12/23/2021

12/23/2021

Dear Friends in Christ, 

The days are getting longer… Yes, I know it doesn’t feel like it, with the grim state of the world, and the coronavirus numbers rising, and our holiday celebrations once more reduced by this darn pandemic… but the days are getting longer. The light is coming back into the world. And in just two short days, we will celebrate the birth of the Light of the World that never really leaves us - Jesus the Christ, Son of God, Lord Most High. Immanuel – God with us, always, even when we can’t see the light for the darkness. And so for this pre-Christmas reflection I offer you this poem by Jan Richardson, who lost her husband during Advent some years ago and knows what it’s like to struggle to find the hope and Good News at this time of year, but intentionally looks for it, because she, like us, knows it is there, but sometimes  has a hard time seeing it, especially when all around us it is dark.  

BLESSING FOR THE LONGEST NIGHT 

All throughout these months, 

as the shadows 

have lengthened, 

this blessing has been 

gathering itself, 

making ready, 

preparing for 

this night. 

It has practiced 

walking in the dark, 

traveling with 

its eyes closed, 

feeling its way 

by memory, 

by touch, 

by the pull of the moon 

even as it wanes. 

So believe me 

when I tell you 

this blessing will 

reach you, 

even if you 

have not light enough 

to read it; 

it will find you, 

even though you cannot 

see it coming. 

You will know 

the moment of its 

arriving 

by your release 

of the breath 

you have held 

so long; 

a loosening 

of the clenching 

in your hands, 

of the clutch 

around your heart; 

a thinning 

of the darkness 

that had drawn itself 

around you. 

This blessing 

does not mean 

to take the night away, 

but it knows 

its hidden roads, 

knows the resting spots 

along the path, 

knows what it means 

to travel 

in the company 

of a friend. 

So when 

this blessing comes, 

take its hand. 

Get up. 

Set out on the road 

you cannot see. 

This is the night 

when you can trust 

that any direction 

you go, 

you will be walking 

toward the dawn. 

—Jan Richardson 

from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief