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Out
of the Darkness The
First Reading: Jeremiah 33:14-16 Today the Church around the globe turns a corner- we start the preparation for the annual celebration of the birth of Jesus. In the wisdom of our church parents many centuries ago, a season of preparation was designed to put Christians in mind of the momentous event in 4 B.C. – God became human. Advent is that season of hopefulness, of light, of holy preparation. Advent is also a time when Christians have reflected on what it means to live in darkness and anticipate the light breaking in. The lessons call us to face the darkness in our souls and our world, and prepare for the light to shine anew. “God, give us grace to cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life when Jesus came to visit us in great humility.” So says the collect. In Jeremiah God says: “The days are coming when I will fulfill the promise I made to Israel- I will cause a righteous branch to spring up for David: and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come,” says Mark’s gospel. One common mistake lots of us make is to deny the darkness has spread so far. We try to spend our time among people who are amiable and light-hearted. We do our best to avoid depressing topics in holiday parties. Often we stuff our schedules with busy-ness to stave off the reality that we’re lonely and slightly depressed. We often pull out the tinsel, ornaments and Christmas tree lights and never stop to think what they represent: the triumph of light over darkness, the overwhelming love of God for us humans, and the loving warmth of neighbor for neighbor. It seems there is little to be pleased about these days. I often feel there’s a dark abyss into which life as we know it is sliding. I feel the darkness most strongly when I see the unhappy faces of almost everyone in the supermarket, or on the sidewalk. Unhappiness is so big a part of so many people’s lives that darkness and unhappiness have come the mean the same thing. Is Advent only building false hope? Do we really think God comes to us, that Jesus lives now? Maybe those of us who talk about light, hope, promise and being alert are just whacky and naïve. I’d like to tell you a story about a woman I knew who’d been claimed by darkness. Maybe she’s like you and me. When I was growing up in the church in Knoxville, a woman named Audrey was an active, older member. Audrey was married to a nice old man who’d been a friend of my grandfather. Audrey was tall and large, and used to scare me a little with her angry face. She used to make things difficult for many people in the church because she always complained and argued. She had definite opinions about everything and was easily upset. When I left for college Audrey was still kicking, unhappy and sour as ever. During my first semester, my parent’s car was dented in the church parking lot, and no note was left. One of the ushers that Sunday had seen the accident and recorded the license number as the car drove off. When my father checked, it was Audrey’s car. My brother went to their house to talk with Audrey and her husband, and Audrey wouldn’t open the door at first. Then she denied having hit the car. Finally, my brother cajoled the truth from her and she agreed to pay the repair bill. My brother said she was pitiful in her denials of denting the car. All I’d ever known of Audrey was her unhappiness. In the ensuing years, I learned more about Audrey. She came from an abusive family, and always felt herself to be unattractive. She grew up and married, only to have that marriage end in divorce. Her only son died tragically, and Audrey was alone much of her life. She remarried a nice old man, the husband I knew, and she always felt he’d married her just to have a housekeeper. Audrey bossed him around, even shoved him in and out of the pew on Sundays. Her husband died. Audrey was grief-stricken. She felt guilty about how she’d treated her husband. She began to hang around the church office, asking for work to do. She joined a group of church people who met monthly in different homes in small groups to pray and talk about their faith. The first group nearly disbanded because of her presence, and when new groups formed, many asked specifically not to be in a group with Audrey. The group she finally was placed in was of mature, long-suffering people who had weathered Audrey’s storms over the years. They tried to give love to Audrey, but with little receptiveness on her part. Audrey was stricken with cancer, and she began to lose her strength. She despaired of any reason to live. She was old, dying, alone, and knew how much people disliked her. There was no light at all in her life. She was like many of our neighbors who are totally dejected and have given up in their unhappiness. What does Advent mean for people who live in such darkness? Their future is hopeless, and they feel we, and God, have deserted them. Their promise is just of more despair. Well, Audrey is a symbol of hope for us. Let me tell you why. A group of women in the congregation who’d known Audrey for over 20 years decided to do something. They decided to fight the darkness that had overtaken Audrey. Those women, of different ages and backgrounds, put their hearts and heads together and began a system of 24-hour care in her time of dying. They fed her, read to her, kept house, comforted her, and prayed with her. They gave her her meds, and sat beside her when she slept, so someone would be there when she woke. They helped her in a way Audrey had never known before. Audrey began to tell them her story, and bit by bit, the women began to understand Audrey in her unhappiness. When she was close to death, those with her heard her say that the time of greatest happiness in her life was after she developed cancer. She said she learned then the true meaning of Christian love of neighbor for neighbor, and through that, the love of God for her. She died happier than she’d ever been in life. Audrey proclaims
the triumph of light over darkness. She was transformed by love.
I now can only recall her through the voices of those women
who came to love her. She was living proof of God breaking through
with promise, unlooked for, to love God’s children. This is the
God for whom we wait: One who does indeed cast off the works of darkness
and bathes us in the armor of light. For you and me, that armor is
love. Let’s not wait too long, though. God is all around us,
waiting to be uncovered. Copyright 2003 Calvary Episcopal Church The
First Reading:
Jeremiah
33:14-16 |
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