He who has come to men dwells where we cannot tell nor sight reveal him, until the hour has struck when the small heart does break with hunger for him;
those who do merit least, those whom no tongue does praise the first to know him, and on the face of the earth the poorest village street blossoming for him. ~Jane Tyson Clement
In the somber dark of a near-solstice morning, when there appears no hope for sun or warmth, I hunger for solace only He can bring.
He calls me forth from my hiding place, buried face down from the troubles of the world, burrowed deep in quilt and pillows, fearing the news of the day.
Only God glues together what evil has shattered. We must hand Him the shards of our broken hearts.
His offered hand bloodied by lifting us from the darkness~ into a growing light, where together we burst
into untimely blossom.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
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…we are faced with the shocking reality: Jesus stands at the door and knocks, in complete reality. He asks you for help in the form of a beggar, in the form of a ruined human being in torn clothing. He confronts you in every person that you meet.
Christ walks on the earth as your neighbor as long as there are people. He walks on the earth as the one through whom God calls you, speaks to you and makes his demands. That is the greatest seriousness and the greatest blessedness of the Advent message. Christ stands at the door. Will you keep the door locked or open it to him? ~Dietrich Bonhoeffer from his Advent Sermon “The Coming of Jesus into our Midst”from God is in the Manger
Upon the darkish, thin, half-broken ice There seemed to lie a barrel-sized, heart-shaped snowball, Frozen hard, its white identical with the untrodden white of the lake shore. Closer, its somber face— Mask and beak—came clear, the neck’s Long cylinder, and the splayed feet, balanced, Weary, immobile. Black water traced, behind it, An abandoned gesture. Soft in still air, snowflakes Fell and fell. Silence Deepened, deepened. The short day Suspended itself, endless. ~Denise Levertov “Swan in Falling Snow”
When we witness suffering, when the stranger in ragged clothes approaches and asks for help, how do we respond?
I too easily forget: I am also the least of these, desperate for rescue, suspended, immobile, in a darkening quiet, waiting, waiting.
He patiently stands at the closed door. His tender mercy lifts our deepening state, waits for us to open up, gives us wings to the eternal, endlessly forgiven, endlessly loved, endlessly endless.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
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The whole of Christ’s life was a continual passion; others die martyrs, but Christ was born a martyr. He found a Golgotha, where he was crucified, even in Bethlehem, where he was born; for to his tenderness then the straws were almost as sharp as the thorns after, and the manger as uneasy at first as the cross at last. His birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas Day and his Good Friday are but the evening and the morning of one and the same day. From the creche to the cross is an inseparable line. Christmas only points forward to Good Friday and Easter. It can have no meaning apart from that, where the Son of God displayed his glory by his death. ~John Donne, opening words in his sermon on Christmas Day 1626
O dying souls! behold your living spring! O dazzled eyes! behold your sun of grace! Dull ears attend what word this word doth bring! Up, heavy hearts, with joy your joy embrace! From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs, This life, this light, this word, this joy repairs.
Man altered by sin from man to beast; Beast’s food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh. Now God is flesh and lies in manger pressed As hay, the brutish sinner to refresh. O happy field wherein this fodder grew, Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew. ~Robert Southwell from The Nativity of the Christ,Jesuit poet (1561-1595)
Our neighborhood hay crew
remembered on
frosty mornings before dawn
when bales are broken for feed
and fragrant summer spills forth.
In the dead of winter
during the darkest blowing icy nights
the bales open like a picture book
illustrating how life once was,
and will be again~
Rainy spring nights’ hay
becomes bedding
for new foals’ sleep
to guarantee sunshine
in the uneasy manger
on the darkest of days:
Communion.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
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As once a Child was planted in a womb (and later, erected on a hill, a wooden cross) one year we dug a hole to plant a tree. Our choice, a Cornus Kousa with its fine, pink, four-petaled bracts, each curving lip touched with a red as deep as human blood. It rooted well, and every year it grows more glorious, bursting free in Spring—bud into full flower, flame-colored, flushed as wine. Even the slim sapling’s roughened bark speaks of that tree, nail-pierced and dark. Now, each new year, fresh blossoms shine radiant, and each cross-blessed, as if all love and loveliness has been compressed into a flower’s face, fresh as the Son’s new-born presence, a life only just begun.
The dogwood leaves turn iron red in Fall, their centers fully ripening—into small seeded balls, each one a fruit vivid as Mary’s love, and edible. The sciontree, once sprung from Jesse’s root, speaks pain and life and love compressed and taken in, eye, mouth, heart. Incredible that now all Eucharists in our year suggest the living Jesus is our Christmas guest. ~Luci Shaw “Dogwood Tree” from Eye of the Beholder
Tree, we take leave of you; you’re on your own. Put down your taproot with its probing hairs that sluice the darkness and create unseen the tree that mirrors you below the ground. For when we plant a tree, two trees take root: the one that lifts its leaves into the air, and the inverted one that cleaves the soil to find the runnel’s sweet, dull silver trace and spreads not up but down, each drop a leaf in the eternal blackness of that sky. The leaves you show uncurl like tiny fists and bear small button blossoms, greenish white, that quicken you. Now put your roots down deep; draw light from shadow, break in on earth’s sleep. ~Roy Scheele “Planting a Dogwood”
For every leaf and blossom unfolding to the Light above, there is a root with tendrils surging deep to conquer the underground darkness.
Christ is born as our deep root of salvation.
He nourishes so we might flourish; we bloom because of Light drawn from shadow.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
Light beyond shadow, Joy beyond tears, Love that is greater when darkest our fears; deeper the Peace when the storm is around, nearer the Hope to the lost who is found.
Light of the world, ever shining, shining! Hope in our pain and our dying. in our darkness, there is Light, in our crying, there is Love, in the noise of life imparting Peace that passes understanding.
Light beyond shadow, Joy beyond tears, Love that is greater when darkest our fears; deeper the Peace when the storm is around, nearer the Hope to the lost who is found. -Paul Wigmore
My love and tender one are you My sweet and lovely son are you You are my love and darling you Unworthy, I of you
Haleluia, haleluia, haleluia, haleluia.
Your mild and gentle eyes proclaim The loving heart with which you came A tiny tender hapless bairn With boundless grace of face
Haleluia, haleluia, haleluia, haleluia.
King of Kings, most holy one Gone the sun eternal one You are my god and helpless son High ruler of mankind
Haleluia, haleluia, haleluia, haleluia.
My love and tender one are you My sweet and lovely son are you You are my love and darling you Unworthy, I of you
Haleluia, haleluia, haleluia, haleluia. ~Traditional Gaelic carol Taladh Chriosda (Christ Child Lullaby) from the Hebrides
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He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted . . . and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat. ~J.R.R. Tolkien from The Lord of the Rings
It is only 10 days before we bid farewell to autumn and accept the arrival of the winter solstice, signaling the long slow climb back to daylight. This giving-way to the darkness has felt like a defeat we may never recover from.
Yet the sunset becomes a startling send-off for fall, coloring Mt. Baker and surrounding an almost full moon with purple in the eastern sky. Our farm, for a deceptive few minutes, appears rosy and warm in crisp subfreezing weather. Then all becomes gray again, and within an hour we are shrouded in thick fog which ices the asphalt as darkness fell. It becomes a challenge to avoid the deep ditches along our country roads, with the white fog line being the critical marker preventing potential disaster.
The ever present fog this time of year cloaks and smothers in the darkness, not unlike the respiratory and gastrointestinal viruses that have hit many households hard this week. Plenty of people have been feverish, coughing and snuffling, unable to see past the ends of their swollen noses, as if the fog descended upon them in an impenetrable gray cloud. It is an unwelcome reminder of our vulnerability to microscopic organisms that can defeat us and lay us low in a matter of hours, just as a sudden freezing fog can lure us to the ditch.
We are forced to stay put, our immune systems fighting back at a time when there are dozens of responsibilities vying for attention in preparation for the holidays. Little gets accomplished other than our slow wait for healing and clarity–at some point the viral fog will dissipate and we can try climbing back into life and navigating without needing the fog lines as guides.
Ditches have been very deep for some folks recently, with unexpected deaths of loved ones, the diagnosis of cancers with difficult treatment options swallowing up their light and joy. Despite profound losses and pain, people courageously continue to fight, climbing their way out of the darkness to the light.
The day’s transition to night becomes bittersweet: these bright flames of color herald our uneasy future sleep after fighting the long defeat on this soil.
The sun “settles” upon the earth and so must we.
Be at ease, put down the heavy burden and rest. We can celebrate, with chorus and gifts, the arrival of brilliant light in our lives. Instead of darkness overcoming us, our lives become illuminated in glory, peace, and grace.
The Son has settled among us and so shall we be comforted.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
Sure on this shining night of star-made shadows round, kindness must watch for me this side the ground, on this shining night, this shining night
The late year lies down the north All is healed, all is health High summer holds the earth, hearts all whole The late year lies down the north All is healed, all is health High summer holds the earth, hearts all whole Sure on this shining night, sure on this shining, shining night
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand’ring far alone Of shadows on the stars Sure on this shining night, this shining night On this shining night, this shining night Sure on this shining night ~from James Agee’s poem
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In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawns day after day, eager to be shared… I need more of the night before I open eyes and heart to illumination. I must still grow in the dark like a root not ready, not ready at all. ~Denise Levertov from “Eye Mask”
photo by Joel DeWaard
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. ~Isaiah 9:2
photo by Joel DeWaard
Take heart… There is a power here in the bowels of the earth, a “deeper magic,” as C.S. Lewis called it. Death is not given the final word. Christ doesn’t need to turn east to greet the sunrise: he is himself the Dawn by whose light we see light (Psalm 36:9). The sun will not set again. That was our last night. Ever. ~Sarah Arthur from Introduction to Between Midnight and Dawn
Over this past week of gray rainy days that begin and end in an all-encompassing and, in some ways, comforting darkness, I am feeling quite “hunkered down.”
I’m seeking shelter right now, surrounded like a root yet to sprout, needing time to ready myself for the power of the Light soon to come.
In the fullness of time, I’ll be called forth to merge with the Dawn.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life: Such a Way, as gives us breath: Such a Truth, as ends all strife: Such a Life, as killeth death.
Come, My Light, my Feast, my Strength: Such a Light, as shows a feast: Such a Feast, as mends in length: Such a Strength, as makes his guest.
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart: Such a Joy, as none can move: Such a Love, as none can part: Such a Heart, as joys in love. ~George Herbert “The Call”
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Some days, words simply don’t come. I am stilled and plain – silent in darkness. God is in the depth of these empty hours. He is there – waiting alongside me.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
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The night after she returned from the hospital the uneven rumbly liquid breathing of one soon
to go under kept me at the surface of thoughts I couldn’t escape. Clonazepam, Lorazepam,
not even Ambien could pull or sink me. And in the morning, sure enough, we couldn’t coax or shake her awake
except for a few seconds when someone or thing wrenched her eyes open and let her answer no
to every question in a scornful voice we’d never heard before before pulling her down to that rocky undertow.
Through the morning and afternoon every breath, a grunt, a rattling that soaked the bedclothes and pillows in sweat.
Then at 3 pm, she returned—recognizing her two daughters speaking her own name and the name of the president.
The hospice nurse put a line through the word “Comatose” scrawled at the top of her chart and for the next few hours
a light or absence seemed to emanate from her almost emptied irises. No sentences. No speech as the white
nimbus of hair, thick and lively around her head nodded yes to sitting up and getting dressed—
to sweet potatoes and Jeopardy! as though part of her remained in that rheumy underwater place
that took her breath away and wiped out the syntax of explanation and inquiry, leaving only
no I won’t and certainly not and don’t ever wake me up again. ~Lisa Sewell “The Land of Nod”
Vigil at my mother’s bedside
Where do your dreams take you? At times you wake in your childhood home of Rolling wheat fields, boundless days of freedom. Other naps take you to your student and teaching days Grammar and drama, speech and essays. Yesterday you were a young mother again Juggling babies, farm and your wistful dreams.
Today you looked about your empty nest Disguised as hospital bed, Wondering aloud about Children grown, flown. You still control through worry and tell me: It’s foggy out there Travel safe through the dark Call me when you get there Take time to eat Sleep sound, ready to wake fresh tomorrow
I dress you as you dressed me I clean you as you cleaned me I love you as you loved me You try my patience as I tried yours. I wonder if I have the strength to Mother my mother For as long as she needs.
When I tell you the truth of where you are Your brow furrows as it used to do When I disappointed you~ This cannot be A bed in a room in a sterile place Waiting Waiting for death, Waiting for heaven, Waiting for the light
And I tell you: It’s foggy Travel safe through the darkness Eat something, please eat Sleep sound, ready to wake fresh tomorrow Call me when you get there.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
Wake, Awake for Night is Flying Let the shadows be forsaken, The time has come for us to waken, And to the Day our lives entrust. Search the sky for heaven’s portal: The clouds shall rain the Light Immortal, And earth will soon bud forth the Just.
Of one pearl each shining portal, where, dwelling with the choir immortal, we gather ’round Your dazzling light. No eye has seen, no ear has yet been trained to hear what joy is ours! ~Philipp Nicolai
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The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. ~Isaiah 9:2
Advent is the season that, when properly understood, does not flinch from the darkness that stalks us all in this world. Advent begins in the dark and moves toward the light—but the season should not move too quickly or too glibly, lest we fail to acknowledge the depth of the darkness.
As our Lord Jesus tells us, unless we see the light of God clearly, what we call light is actually darkness: “how great is that darkness!” (Matt. 6:23). Advent bids us take a fearless inventory of the darkness: the darkness without and the darkness within.
Advent is designed to show that the meaning of Christmas is diminished to the vanishing point if we are not willing to take a fearless inventory of the darkness. ~Fleming Rutledge from Advent- The Once & Future Coming of Jesus Christ
It is this great absence that is like a presence, that compels me to address it without hope of a reply. It is a room I enter
from which someone has just gone, the vestibule for the arrival of one who has not yet come. I modernise the anachronism
of my language, but he is no more here than before. Genes and molecules have no more power to call him up than the incense of the Hebrews
at their altars. My equations fail as my words do. What resources have I other than the emptiness without him of my whole being, a vacuum he may not abhor? ~R.S. Thomas “The Absence”
There is no light in the incarnation without witnessing the empty darkness that precedes His arrival; His reason for entering our world is to fill our increasing spiritual void, our hollow hearts, our growing deficit of hope and faith.
God abhors a vacuum.
We find our God most when we keenly feel His absence, hearing no reply to our prayers, our faith shaken, not knowing if such unanswered prayers are heard.
In response, He has answered. He comes to walk beside us. He comes to be present among us, to ransom us from our self-captivity by offering up Himself instead.
He fills the vacuum completely and forever.
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
O come, thou Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here; dispel the shadows of the night, and turn our darkness into light.
The people that in darkness sat a glorious light have seen; the Light has shined on them who long in shades of death have been.
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…to bear in her womb Infinite weight and lightness; to carry in hidden, finite inwardness, nine months of Eternity; to contain in slender vase of being, the sum of power – in narrow flesh, the sum of light.
Then bring to birth, push out into air, a Man-child needing, like any other, milk and love –
What could a baby know of gold ornaments or frankincense and myrrh, of priestly robes and devout genuflections?
But the imagination knows all stories before they are told and knows the truth of this one past all defection
The rich gifts so unsuitable for a child though devoutly proffered, stood for all that love can bring.
The men were old how could they know of a mother’s needs or a child’s appetite?
But as they kneeled the child was fed. They saw it and gave praise!
A miracle had taken place, hard gold to love, a mother’s milk! before their wondering eyes.
The ass brayed the cattle lowed. It was their nature.
All men by their nature give praise. It is all they can do.
The very devils by their flight give praise. What is death, beside this?
Nothing. The wise men came with gifts and bowed down to worship this perfection. ~William Carlos Williams “The Gift”
The uncontained contained infinite made finite humble made worthy a Deliverer delivered hungry sated on mother’s milk unsuitable made perfect darkness illuminated with possibilities the eternal here and now
How can you measure the love of a mother, Or how can you write down a baby’s first cry? Candlelight, angel light, firelight and starglow Shine on his cradle till breaking of dawn. Gloria, gloria in excelsis Deo! Angels are singing; the Christ child is born. Shepherds and wise men will kneel and adore him, Seraphim round him their vigil will keep; Nations proclaim him their Lord and their Saviour, But Mary will hold him and sing him to sleep. Find him at Bethlehem laid in a manger: Christ our Redeemer asleep in the hay. Godhead incarnate and hope of salvation: A child with his mother that first Christmas Day. ~John Rutter – words and music
Advent 2023 theme …because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song
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