Light for This Darkness

Today is the First Sunday in Advent, and the 6 inches of snow that fell on Saturday have now made it rather difficult to put up my outside Christmas lights. You need to know how surprising it is for me even to have this thought, because for a long time I have been a purist about Advent and Christmas: save the lights and the celebration for the 12 days of Christmas and keep the Advent “decorating” to a minimum. But I’ve found that as I get older, I’m much less zealous about certain things (and I pray for the grace to discern the things about which I must remain zealous!) One of the things that have shifted in my mind has to do with lights in Advent. Life is filled with much night: the loss of those we love, the death of dreams, the persistent sinfulness that permeates our hearts and minds, the needs and troubles of people we meet or know. The lights of Advent are a powerful statement of hope and trust that the light of Jesus Christ will continue to shine to overcome the nighttime of our spirits and of our world. And when we light those lights in our yards, in our homes, or in worship, it is a powerful statement that we are siding with the Light and taking up the call to shine Christ’s Light for all we’re worth.

Tonight Bethlehem hosted a fabulous concert by the Great River Chorale, Cantabile Girls’ Chorus, and the Central Minnesota Youth Chorale. Because Saturday’s concert was snowed out, it was a packed house with 650 people welcomed to this event; and I wish that many, many more might have experienced our sanctuary during the last song. The room was darkened, but shining in the night were the 4 candles on stands in the front, the first candle high on the Advent wreath, and the hand candles of nearly 200 singers in every aisle, their song coming to us in “surround sound.” Their song is my prayer as this Advent season begins:


"Night of Silence" by Dan Kantor, arr. John Ferguson
Cold are the people, winter of life; we tremble in shadows this cold endless night.
Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping, flowers that will echo the sunrise.
Fire of hope is our only warmth; weary, its flame will be dying soon.

Voice in the distance, call in the night, on wind you enfold us, you speak of the light.
Gentle on the ear you whisper softly, rumors of a dawn so embracing,
breathless love awaits darkened souls, soon will we know of the morning.

Spirit among us, shine like the Star, your light that guides shepherds & kings from afar.
Shimmer in the sky so empty, lonely, rising in the warmth of your Son’s love,
Star unknowing of night and day, Spirit we wait for your loving Son.