Into the Darkness

Advent I

Perhaps it’s because Nebraska has had several snowy, wintry days already this year, or perhaps it’s because of the weight of the news about climate change. Perhaps it’s because the level of corruption, incompetence, and willful ignorance among some of our top elected officials is taking us farther from addressing global warming instead of bringing us closer to the sort of large-scale all-in effort needed to mitigate climate change and adapt to a warming world. Perhaps it’s that the scientific reports seem less abstract when we see photos of places destroyed by fires, floods, and sea level rise. Whatever the reason, as this Advent season begins, I feel more keenly than I ever have at Advent that we are journeying into darkness. 

We pray “Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light…” in our Collect for the First Sunday of Advent, and we use phrases like “dark times” to describe a difficult point of our personal or collective history. But non-metaphorical darkness, real darkness, can be a welcome time of sleep. It’s when we dream and re-energize our bodies for another day. Clear, starry skies on the darkest and coldest nights pull us into a world of wonder. Darkness is neither bad nor good, it simply is. 

However, when we aren’t safely tucked away in our beds or purposely star-gazing, darkness can be scary because we can’t see what is around us and may be disoriented. That’s when we long for a light in the darkness. A small flashlight on a walk back from star-gazing in an open field or seeing a farmstead’s yard light ahead when driving on a dark night can make a big difference. 

As we enter Advent this year, I’m keeping an image in mind of entering a quiet, restful darkness while knowing where to find some light when I need it. Maybe in the darkness, even if it's sometimes uncomfortable, we will learn something, dream something, that will help us see and participate in a new thing. In Advent, we contemplate the mystery of Christ as the one who was, who is, and who is to come again, the one that John’s Gospel describes as the Word who was from the beginning. “What has come into being in him was life,” writes John, “and the life was the light of all people.” We know where to find the light, and we also know that it’s both a necessity and a joy to pass through the darkness of Advent in order to more fully receive the light that always shines in the darkness, the light of Christ we celebrate at Christmas. 

This year, our spiritual journey into darkness seems an especially good fit for what we are experiencing in our daily lives, in this unique moment in the intertwined history of humankind and planet Earth, and in our current political situation. In the Gospel for the First Sunday of Advent, Jesus talks about our ability to see the signs of the season such as the sprouting of green leaves telling us when summer is near. We can read the signs of our times if we pay attention. Reports of daily eco-disasters and scientific reports show us different kinds of signs of the same reality. As we pay attention, the darkness can seem overwhelming. It’s disorienting because we are in an unfamiliar place. However, as we allow ourselves to see the signs and enter the darkness of our current situation, we are also entering the more familiar darkness of Advent, that darkness that is meant to help us see the Light more clearly. Even though humankind has never before been in this same place, we know how to do this because we know how to journey through Advent and we know the Light is near. 

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For a daily dose of wonder to help us reflect on our place in the vastness of creation, check out the 2018 Hubble Space Telescope Advent Calendar.

Hope: Prayer and Reflection for the First Week of Advent

The light outside us grows dimmer; the light within us grows brighter. 

Collect for the First Sunday of Advent (p. 211, The Book of Common Prayer)

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Outdoors it's late fall. The days grow shorter and the sun lies low in the sky. We know with certainty, though, both that longer days and brighter light lie ahead and exactly when the winter solstice will bring the gradual return of the light, but still sometimes the weeks of darkness seem unending. 

Our situation with climate change caused by global warming can seem hopeless when we look at the scientific data and the global and national political situation. Unlike our knowledge of the returning natural light, we have no certain knowledge that better days lie ahead. Any genuine hope in this case is deep hope, hope that something better and brighter than the most likely outcome -- and perhaps something even better and brighter than anything we can imagine -- will come to pass. In these waning days, we pray a prayer of hope:

O God of all power and all goodness, the days are dark and our future seems uncertain. Send us in this season of Advent deep hope and the will to do what we must to help that hope become a real possibility. We ask that even when it seems foolish, you give us wisdom to put on the armor of light so all can live in hope of a future when humankind and all living things both not only live, but flourish. In the name of Jesus, the true light of the world who is not overcome by the darkness. Amen.

A note about these Advent offerings:

The focus of the Diocese of Nebraska’s Creation Community this year is to create and pray daily prayers appropriate to each liturgical season that remember the natural environment. Our intention is not only to add these prayers to our own regular daily prayers so we know that others in our little community are praying with us, but also to offer them for use by others in the diocese in their daily prayers. For each week of Advent, we are offering a short reflection and prayer.

It seems especially important this year to remember both the firm and proven expectation that the natural light will indeed grow brighter and also our deeper hope that metaphorically brighter days will return at a time we can’t pinpoint. Because we live in Christian hope, even as the light outside us grows dimmer, our inner light shines brighter against the darkness.

Advent 1: Interpreting the Signs

The Gospel lesson yesterday for the First Sunday of Advent was Luke 21: 25-36. In this passage, Jesus is talking about the signs of the coming of the Son of Man. He tells a parable, pointing out that when the fig trees and other trees begin to get new young leaves in the spring, people know that summer is near; in the same way, if people pay attention to the signs around them and know how to interpret them, they will know when Christ is there among them. Being aware of the signs – really seeing them – will help us know what is happening. In describing this time, Jesus talks about the fear and distress that people will experience, but he also tells his followers to stand up and raise their heads high, because all of these things mean that their redemption is near. There’s nothing to fear for the people who recognize Christ and have chosen to follow him, nothing to fear for people who yearn to live into the reign of God.

As a Deacon, I’m prepared to proclaim the Gospel on Sunday mornings. As part of that preparation, I read the Gospel lesson at least a day ahead, both to catch any names I might want to check for pronunciation ahead of time and also to get a sense of the lesson so that I proclaim it in a way that makes its meaning as plain as possible. Because of the Thanksgiving holiday, I hadn't spent as much time thinking about yesterday’s lesson as I usually do, but I had looked it over a couple of days before. It must have been completely out of my thoughts, though, early yesterday morning when I got up and went downstairs to breakfast. I was checking the New York Times headlines online and saw a link to a set of four articles by writers from four different places -- Denmark, South Africa, Brazil, and Japan -- describing the climate changes they have experienced where they live. I had time to read the report from Japan and skim the others before leaving for church.

When I got to church and again looked over the Gospel lesson, I was struck by the concurrence of what I had read about the signs of climate change and the message of our Gospel passage for the day. We have signs of a coming time that will, if our failure to act allows it to come, produce fear and distress throughout the world, with floods, famines, droughts, and outbreaks of diseases. The signs are there; these four writers talk about climate phenomena that anyone living in these places can observe. Because they often happen gradually and over the course of a lifetime, it is easy to ignore the signs right around us. For my part, I have childhood memories of wanting to be excused from the dinner table on Thanksgiving as quickly as possible so that I could get bundled up and go out and play Fox and Geese in the snow with my brother and cousins. When I was home in Ohio this Thanksgiving, there was a wet snowfall that lasted half a day. There also was a lily outside the entrance to my mother’s apartment building that looked like it was ready to bloom; other people told me about pussy willows coming into bud and roses still blooming. When I went into the woods, there were many green plants still growing through this year’s leaf layer on the forest floor.

Besides these anecdotal signs, of course, we have statistical analysis from climate scientists. (A recent Associate Press article found on the Forecast Earth section of The Weather Channel’s website summarizes some of the scientific findings nicely.) The Copenhagen conference is approaching with some encouraging signs that some progress might be made, but also with the knowledge that even the best of what look like the politically possible scenarios won’t bring about enough of a reduction of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere to prevent further warming.
We Christians can bring a different perspective to this situation, one of hope. There is the hope that if we pay attention to the signs, if we open our eyes to the reality unfolding right now and have compassion for those who stand to suffer the most from the effects of climate change, if we do all we can to live more responsibly and advocate for more responsible decisions from those in power, that we can live through this time with courage and hope, standing up with our heads raised high. Recognizing the profound severity of the problem is not the same as living without hope; our faith in the healing power of God’s love can empower us to find a way through this. When we learn to live in a way that makes life sustainable for all people and for all the living things that share this planet, we will find ourselves “further up and further in” as we journey into the reign of God.

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What are the expected effects of climate change on Nebraska and its wildlife? The Nebraska Wildlife Federation is holding a public forum tomorrow evening, December 1, at 6:30 on UNL’s East Campus to talk about the effect of climate change on wildlife and agriculture. More information is available from this article from the Lincoln Journal Star.