Holy darkness. What a strange phrase? How can darkness be holy? Darkness often symbolizes the negative experiences of life, experiences that cause suffering. As a result, we conclude: darkness should not exist. It is light that is most important. It is the positive experiences of life that are good. Our culture teaches us that these experiences of light is what we should seek, treasure, hold on to. Even for Christians with our emphasis on Christ being the “light of the world”, it is tempting to see darkness as bad, but is that the case? We, Christians, forget that this Christ light appeared in what Christmas carols call a holy night, not a bad night that should not have happened but rather a holy night of darkness that made the Christ light possible. Let me explain. Within our culture, darkness and suffering are seen as bad, something that should not exist. We bring many negative interpretations to these times of negative experiences: a sense of failure, weakness, sin, punishment, “I deserve it’, rejection, illness, unworthiness, shame, guilt, isolation, etc. To cope with this suffering, we seek to medicate this darkness in a host of different ways: dismissing our experiences as not significant/wrong, numbing our experiences through alcohol, food, sex, and drugs, distracting ourselves from our experiences through work, relationships, entertainment and reading, blaming others for our experiences, avoiding settings that trigger these negative experiences, etc. The end result of all these strategies is to hide this darkness and focus on anything that brings potential experiences of light. Our culture sees darkness as very unholy. Within the Christian tradition, darkness has a very different meaning. What the medical world labels as depression, our Christian tradition describes as the dark night of the soul. When we look at God’s creation, we see that darkness is a necessary part of life. In fact, it could be seen as a gift. Each evening, as the sun fades, we enter into darkness, a time of rest and sleep. A similar renewal happens with the seasons of fall and winter that makes the growth and new life of spring and summer possible. I think of the cycle of death and rebirth that we see every time a seed sprouts or a caterpillar becomes a moth or butterfly, or the conception of a human being in its mother’s womb. All of these transformations happen in the presence of literal darkness, underground or out of sight in a cocoon, and as every mother knows, the process of birthing is not pain-free. I think of the dark cloudy skies that bring rain as well as the bright sunny days that bring warmth. Both are needed for there to be life. This pattern of darkness and light we see in natural creation we also see within the human soul. One of my favourite songs that describes this pattern is John Michael Talbot’s song “Holy Darkness." Let me provide you the words for I find them quite meaningful. (Chorus) Holy darkness, blessed night Heaven's answer hidden from our sight As we await you, O God of silence We embrace your holy night I have tried you in the fires of affliction I have taught your soul to grieve In the barren soil of your loneliness There I will plant my seed. (Chorus) In the deepest hour of your darkness I will give you wealth untold When the silence stills your spirit Will my riches fill your soul. (Chorus) If you wish to listen to this song, click here. Throughout this song, Talbot highlights the many gifts of darkness within the human soul. He sees darkness as those moments when God’s presence, in all of its many forms (love, truth, grace, joy, strength, peace, intimacy, etc.), is outside our awareness and experience, when heaven’s answer is hidden from our sight. God’s spirit is active in our life; we just cannot sense it. He sees darkness arising in those times when our soul is being purified, mourning for what we have lost, or longing for relationship. It is in these times of darkness when God is able to plant seeds in our soul that allow us someday to experience the different aspects of God’s spirit in our life. But it is in those deepest hours of darkness, when life feels totally out of control, when our minds are totally discombobulated, when we feel lost in our emotional chaos, when all we can do is surrender to our experience expecting to die….that something profound happens within our soul. God’s light breaks into this fertile darkness! Talbot describes these times of crisis as times when we will experience unbelievable spiritual wealth, when our soul becomes totally still and silent, when spiritual riches will nourish our soul. In the Christian tradition, we have two theological words for such profound experiences: incarnation at Christmas and resurrection at Easter. However, just as the Easter light of the resurrection cannot be celebrated without the darkness of Good Friday, neither can the Christ light of Christmas be celebrated without the darkness of Advent. The four week period of Advent before Christmas is time of watching, waiting, hoping, longing, and anticipating, all spiritual practices people do when they are experiencing the dark night of the soul in their life. And what are we watching for? Each Sunday in Advent is focused on one sign of God’s spirit breaking into our darkness: hope, peace, joy, and love. And then on Christmas, we celebrate the actual incarnation, the Christ Child, the manifestation of God’s spirit breaking fully into our darkness. This year as I travel the Advent journey with my congregation, I am seeing in new ways how Mary and Joseph and the Jewish people found themselves in this place of the Dark Night of the Soul. There are so many events in this nativity story that would trigger profound darkness: the unexpected pregnancy, the rejection of community and isolation because of this mysterious pregnancy, the census requiring the long trip to Bethlehem close to the baby’s delivery date, etc. This is not a story of the light getting brighter and brighter…where Mary’s and Joseph’s faith is getting stronger and they are getting closer to God. In fact, when we look at their story through the Dark Night of the Soul lens, the very opposite is happening: their darkness is getting darker and darker. Imagine with me the last scene in their story: Mary is fully and uncomfortably pregnant, tired and exhausted after riding on a donkey all day long as Joseph tries to get them to Bethlehem for the governor’s census. Joseph is very aware of her condition, the need to stop for she may go into labour any hour now. You can imagine the relief when they finally see the town of Bethlehem in the distant. But then, “O No!” One inn after the other indicates they are full due to the crowds of people returning to their hometown for the census. Can you imagine the fear, the dread, the panic that would settled upon them? I certainly can. I remember the day that my middle son David was born on January 14, 1992. It was a stormy morning. My wife had called me at work saying she was going into labour. I rushed home but I never made it for on the way, I lost control of my car and found myself stuck in the ditch. I remember trudging a half kilometer to a gas station and making that difficult call home informing my wife what had happened. I felt totally powerless and full of fear and panic. How would I get my wife to the hospital? Would my wife and baby be OK? My life was in total chaos, out of my control. When you are in this place of profound darkness, what can you do? Absolutely nothing except surrender… surrender to the experience that is happening to you and see what happens. I am certain that Joseph and Mary had a similar experience that day as they encountered one innkeeper after another repeating to them, “Sorry, we have no room!” These moments are those “deep hours of darkness” that Talbot sings about when we experience “untold wealth.” It is in those moments of profound darkness that we experience the incarnation breaking into our midst in profound ways. For my wife and I, our incarnation was an angel with a four-wheel truck who my father-in-law met by chance as he was trying to get his car out the driveway. That man drove my wife and her father to the hospital that morning. Later that evening, with me finally by Valerie’s side, our son David was born. For Joseph and Mary, that incarnation began with an innkeeper who, seeing their predicament, suggested they can stay in the animal stable attached to the inn. This was better than nothing. It was there that Joseph and Mary set up a bed for Mary to deliver her baby. Later that evening, a healthy baby Jesus was born. I suspect that only then, when they were holding their baby, could they begin to relax and experience thanksgiving to God for what had amazingly happened that day. Then unexpectedly, later that night, the Bible tells us that some lowly shepherds came sharing stories about what they had witnessed in the skies, stories of seeing visions of angels proclaiming that their baby Jesus would someday become a future Messiah, a savior to God’s people. The Bible story ends with Mary and Joseph treasuring these shepherds’ words and pondering them in their hearts.
Every time a sacred incarnation happens into the profound darkness in our life, we are in awe. How did this happen? How can this be? And we treasure these experiences all the days of life and ponder their meaning in our hearts. This Advent and Christmas season, and other times too, I invite you to hold your darkness differently than how our culture does. Rather than see your times of darkness as unholy, consider them as potentially holy experiences, times when “Heaven's answer”…is there but…”hidden from your sight.” Questions to Ponder: 1. When have you experienced times of darkness in your life? What were they like? What gifts eventually emerge for you from that darkness? How did those times of darkness transform you into a more gracious, loving, truthful, compassionate person? 2. Who were the people (the lowly shepherds and wise foreigners) and experiences (angels) that ministered to you in your darkness? What did you learn from them? How did they support you? 3. The incarnation arises in those moments when we allow ourselves to surrender to the present moment and see what happens. Sometimes we practice these moments of surrender as a spiritual practice (dying to self) but more often these moments of surrender are forced on us by life circumstances. When have you experienced these moments of surrender? How have sacred incarnations happen during these moments of “letting go”?
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