this dark time of year

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On a recent conference call, I was led in a meditation of arrival; instead of picturing a conference room, where we were all seated around a table, the facilitator walked us into his home, and painted a mental image of his living room, where we all gathered around the fireplace with Mr. and Mrs. Claus on the mantle. I settled into a comfortable chair, accepted a mug of eggnog, and became comfortablly present for a conversation about the Collaborative Operating System. Once fully present, the facilitator talked about this cross-cultural festival time.

I've been trying to pay attention to the universal experience of this more-dark-than-light time of year (in
the Norther Hemisphere) for the past several years. He reminded us of the Scandinavian Yule Log traditions, many of which include taking a piece of the log for next year's kindling or scattering the ashes in a garden for next year's fertilizer. I was drawn once-again to the Advent Wreath, the light of which grows the four weeks leading up to Christmas, even while the natural light grows less and less as we approach the solstice.

This Sunday, December 21st brings us to the "Longest Night" of the year. It also brings us to the lighting of the fourth candle on the wreath. (We reserve the quintessential, or fifth candle for the coming of Christ in Christmas.)

I recently met someone who tries to ignore Christmas because, "Jesus was not born on December 25, and it's not real." Ok, Jesus was probably not born on December 25, but Christmas is very real. What better time to celebrate the birth of God into the world, than the Winter Solstice? If we Christians look to Jesus to be our light, then when it gets dark, let's look for his birth and Incarnation.

It's no wonder so many people experience a blue Christmas. Culturally, we try to ignore the darkness with interior AND exterior illumination, or at least hours of shopping in the year-round-controlled-weather in the mall, but too much light this time of year misses the experience. The darkness invites our memories, even the sad ones. Ignoring the wounds and losses that return to us this time of year only delays the healing process.

As the (northern) world begins bringing lights out, lighting fires in the fire-place, and lighting candles (eight or four), remember to notice the darkness outside, and honor the darkness inside. Do not be afraid of the dark, but invite it in before moving toward the light of the wreath or the tree. Notice the healing that you are invited to this season, and there, find little manger in your heart where Christ can be born. That is the opportunity for his birthday and a re-birthday for each of us who carry these dark places inside us.

Honor the longest night; it is precisely the darkest part of our world that we remember God choses to enter again and again.

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