Christmas Dark

photo by Iain Buchanan / flickr 

That first Christmas came in the dark. We often forget that. It was a mean and cruel time for the subjects of Augustus Caesar. Rome could be especially cruel for those that broke their laws. And underneath the terrible cruelty the baby was born in a stable. Remember the fear of Joseph and Mary as they fled with their tiny child. We cosmetize the story wonderfully. Cute kids donning bathrobes and wandering down the aisle while the congregation sings: “We Three Kings…:

And out there in the darkness, looking at the lighted stage, many of those that gather have forgotten or ignored the basic truth of our faith. The dark is very real. And all the hoopla of Christmas—silver bells, lighted houses, Santa Claus and those endless trips to the store cannot really hold back the darkness.

We worry about many things. Our kids, our grandchildren. Health or aching joints. A country so divided we wonder if it can ever be not perfect but a United States, a Union—where liberty and justice really do fall down on us all.

And we turn back to the old book. The Bible is realistic. It never cosmetizes the darkness. Adam and Eve cast from the Garden. Cain slaying Abel. A flood that swept almost every thing away. Egypt and slavery and God’s people crying far into the night. David’s peccadillos. Solomon’s stupidity. And Israel wandering, wandering in a wilderness. A journey that should have lasted only months took years and years. Later Exile. And cruelty beyond belief. It’s all there—on almost every page sin, evil, wrongdoing—greed and injustice. Dark.

But that’s only part of the story. For from the beginning there was another word on those gloomy pages. Light. Not blinding light. Just tiny glimpses that let us know that despite whatever we face or do—there is this other word: light. John Henry Newman called it “a kindly light that would shine amid the flickering gloom.”

We all know about the flickering groom. Cardinal Newman knew it well yet he saw something that lifted his head and kept him going. That kindly light. This is no “whistle while you work.” This is no “everything will get better…” There is a tiny incredible hope. The three kings saw its beams as they marched from place to place bumping into furniture, not sure exactly where they would wind up. And yet they kept at it. And we know the rest of that story.

It is no different for us. John began his gospel reminding us that “the light still shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot put it out.”And even when they nailed the best and brightest that ever was to that terrible tree it was not the end. Though it seemed so. 

And so there at the end, another John wrote about hope across the terrible persecutions of his time. Amidst his own darkness he wrote: “And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.”

Is it so much to believe that that light still shines in our darkness? Some days we wonder. No. It is still here.

William Inge wrote a play called: “The Dark at the Top of the Stairs.” Toward the end of the play Cora, the mother tells her little boy to go on up to bed. He just sits there. “Sonny”, she says “I thought I told you to go upstairs.’ She sees that he terrified. She says; “Sonny why are you afraid of the dark?”“Cause”, he says, “you can’t see what’s in front of you. And it might be something awful.” Tenderly she says: “You mustn’t be afraid. “Sonny says: “I’m not afraid if someone’s with me.” And Cora walks over to her son, takes his hand and says: “Come, boy. We’ll go up together.”

The tom-tom beat of the Scriptures is: “Do not be afraid.” Not because there is no dark. It is because amid it all there is this tiny light with will lead us all. 

I share Langston Hughes' poweful poem that keeps me going. You might find it helpful too. --RL) 

"Well, son, I'll tell you:

Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

It's had tacks in it,

And splinters, 

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor--

Bare.

But all the time 

I'se been a-climbin' on,

And reachin' landin's,

And turnin' corners,

And sometimes goin' in the dark 

Where there ain't been no light.

So, boy, don't you turn back. 

Don't you set down on the steps

'Cause you find it 's kinder hard.

Don't you fall down now--

For I'se still goin', honey,

I'se still climbin'

And life for me ain't been no crystal stair."

--from "Mother to Son"

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com