When your waking thought is ‘I don’t want to live this day’, you know you’re off the map that this world gives, a far cry indeed from the perfection and wonder of shiny present giving and cosy family gatherings, those images that bombard us from every tv, storefront, magazine and web page at this time of year.
Sadly, you also know you’re off the map the mainstream Church provides. Even if you’ve managed to get past the heritage of English Victoriana or the bustle of Bethlehem Square and St Peter’s Square to find an ancient tradition that speaks of quiet and presence, even then, the desolate experience of emptiness remains at such odds with the insistence of Advent truths: new birth and the coming of the One who breaks in again, here and now, today.
Such desolation brings forth the loneliest wail in the universe.
I feel utterly alone, and cut off from any experience of God.
And it does not help at that moment to know that others have also woken this day with the same voice shouting in their mind.
My grief at being dragged into the pain the daylight brings is not something I thank a so-called-God for.
I am told I must get up and face this day. Quelling the rebel yell of my ‘why?’, I obey and swim to some sort of surface, direct myself towards where I am told the light is.
And I remain numb, stumbling through whatever tasks the hours ahead bring, counting down the minutes until I am ‘allowed’ to find escape into the non-being of sleep, the nearest equivalent to death I can find.
Except, of course, that sleep is an elusive gift at these times of deep sadness. And I lie awake through the long reaches of the night, unsuccessful in my attempts to quiet my sobbing brain or find a position to comfort and cocoon my searing aching body. At long last I fall into an uneasy snooze, only to be woken, not an hour later, by the same waking thought: ‘I don’t want to live this day.’
This story has characterised great swathes of my last twenty five years. This waking thought occurred to me again only yesterday.
And yet, somehow, I am still alive to write this. I am living those days, enduring, getting through, waiting them out. Why? Because, somehow, I cling to the belief that this darkness, this cold numbness, this cotton wool veil that clouds and distorts my vision, is not the whole story.
The poets, the painters, the prophets tell me so. And by an act of will that grinds itself out from the base of my being, (that I dumbly glimpse has nothing to do with my feeble strength and everything to do with Grace), I choose to believe them.
And what do they say? As if with one breath: ‘Turn: and face the darkness’. There is no escape, the pain cannot be eluded, so turn, turn and look at what it is that pursues you; and see it true, for there you will find your healing. And their next breath holds the promise: this darkness you look into will not overwhelm you; it too, is not the whole story, but this is where you need to start.
And so I begin again. Deliberately choosing to enter into the place of feeling broken, hurt and exhausted, deliberately opening myself up to exploring the sense of the absence of God, deliberately welcoming the tears as they stream, in the knowledge it is all for my healing. These tears are a gift of joy in the wilderness say the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and again, I choose to believe them, opening my heart to that possibility at the very same time my mind screams this is pure folly.
Time and again I practice: practice being present to the moment that feels like an absence – a universal hole in the fabric of time and space itself – trusting that beyond my conscious knowing, this very same moment is filled with the fragrance of holiness that ushers forth Presence.
Time and again I practice: practice being silent, enduring the silence, quieting my inner wailing, relaxing my straining muscles seeking to hear the beckoning invitation of Love, God-with-us.
Time and again I practice: leaning into the shadows because their very existence speaks paradoxically of the Light, to be revealed at a time not of my choosing, assured of its coming if I will but sit with it and wait in the darkness.
In trust, in obedience, in fear, in courage, healing will come.
This is the Light of the World: that our God desires only our full wellness and our flourishing in abundance. Knowledge of this wondrous truth brings freedom then from all of the tugging into destruction my mind can create. God longs for us to receive the gift of this freedom anew day by day.
Daily, God invites us into a relationship with darkness to find the Light. As Tom Wright says, ”Jesus invites us to walk ahead into the darkness and discover that it, too, belongs to God.”
Knowing this allows me to live with whatever forms my illness may take. Knowing this helps me live just one day more in the hope that the living Light within me will spill over towards all those I encounter this day, for their growth and healing, and mine.
What is it about December that makes us so weary?
It’s like all the months behind are pushing us forward, until we’re falling, fallen over…
What is it about Christmas that makes us so lonely?
As though all the losses have compounded until we’re overloaded….
What is it about this time of year that brings us to our knees?
Is it because we’re still aware of so much to achieve?
Or is it because we are aware of all that we didn’t do right?
And we’re feeling just too weak to try and rectify it,
to keep up the endless fight.
Yet what if at this time of year, we’re meant to fall to our knees?
Meant to acknowledge what we’ve lost, and what we still hope to see?
Meant to fall to the ground and allow Christmas to come to where we are?
Allow Him to extend to us His grace, which we don’t have to ‘reach’ to achieve?
What if is okay to fear the year ahead, and to wonder when certainty might reappear?
Wonder when conflicts will finally ease, and when our struggles might start to make sense?
Maybe we’re meant to drop it all when we fall? Into hands which can hold it all – and us as well.
Perhaps we confuse His strength with our own flimsy might? Maybe it’s only His strength alone, sufficient for our brokenness,
which will win this fight.
The following creative litany is adapted from a service that was sent to me by Morgan Schmidt, our youth pastor, a couple of years ago.
Welcome
Opening Song: O Come All Ye Faithless
(To the tune of O Come All Ye Faithful. )
O come, all ye faithless, doubtful and disheartened
Oh come ye O come ye just as you are
Come and be honest, come in all your brokenness
O come let us adore him Christ the Lord.
Sing, choirs of sinners, sing of your redemption!
Sing, sing and testify of power from within
Glory to G-d, glory in your presence
O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.
Yea, G-d we greet thee, come this longest evening
Spirit to thee be all glory given
Name of Creation, come in flesh appearing:
O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.
Call to Worship | Psalm 13:3-6
One: Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; lighten my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death; lest my enemy say “I have prevailed over him”; lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
All: We come to you O Lord, seeking answers to our questions.
We come to you O God, because you are the Creator.
One: But I have trusted your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.
All: We come looking for a song to sing;
We wait for your voice to call us from beyond our fear.
Litany of Lament & Song (O God Where Are You Now? – David Crowder)
(v. 1) – O God, hold me now
Come and lament with me.
Let us attend.
Come and let sorrow fill your marrow with such sadness that we are made strong,
so that our legs can bear the weight of our glory.
Come and lament for broken hearts and lives.
for lovers who leave, and for mothers who abandon.
for those who are hungry, & those whose souls starve.
for the teenagers in the back seats of cars.
for cancer and lonely toddlers.
for medical bills and those with no insurance.
for the bus that never comes & for the bills we can’t pay.
for racism and sexism & all the lives those have ruined.
for our bodies and our souls.
For today and most days
All we bring are broken things.
(v. 2) – O God, hold me now
Come and lament with me.
for the food we waste, and for the food that harms.
for those who are starving,
for those who try and find peace by starving themselves.
Come and lament for broken hearts and lives
for those who hate their thighs and for those who have been abused.
for the bones that break and the cancer that spreads.
for blisters and splinters and hairs that split.
for asthma that seizes and for those we love who never get better.
for those who can’t get warm enough to sleep.
for those who wake early to find the dreams of beauty are not real.
for those whose coffee pots break when they need it most.
for hangovers and regrets and nights spent tossing.
Come and lament with me.
Let us attend.
For today and most days
All we bring are broken things.
Reflection & Response
In the midst of a season that often feels frantic, loud, and anything but peaceful, may the next few moments offer you space to reconnect with your soul, reflect, or simply be. We’ve prepared spaces around the sanctuary where we hope you’ll find rest: cozy drinks & a fire, candle lighting, creativity, and healing.
Communion
Post Communion Prayer – “After the Storm”
Reading / Poem
Lines for Winter by Mark Strand
lyrics here http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-for-winter/
Reflection on Darkness & Light
A Liturgy of Remembering
One: The first candle we light is to remember those whom we
have loved and lost. We pause to remember their name, their face, their voice, the memory that binds them to us in this season.
All: May God’s eternal love surround them.
(Pause while the first candle is lit)
One: The second candle we light is to redeem the pain of loss, the loss of someone who was very important to us, part of our lives, part of our own selves. We pause to
gather up the pain of the past and offer it to God, asking that from God’s hands we receive the gift of peace.
All: Refresh, restore, renew us O God, and lead us into your future.
(Pause while the second candle is lit)
One: The third candle we light is to remember ourselves this Christmas time. We pause and remember these past weeks and months, the disbelief, the anger, the down times, the poignancy of reminiscing, the hugs and handshakes of family and friends, all those who stood with us. We give thanks for all the support we have known.
All: Let us remember that dawn defeats darkness, life overcomes death.
(Pause while the third candle is lit)
One: The fourth candle is lit to remember our faith and the gift of hope which the Christmas story offers to us. We remember that God, who shares our life, promises us a place and time of no more pain and suffering.
All: Let us remember the One Who shows the way, who brings the truth and Who bears the light.
(Pause while the fourth candle is lit. The Christ candle will re-main unlit as a sign of waiting for a future that is yet unknown to us, from which God beckons us)
Lingering Benediction
O Come O Come Emmanuel
For more Blue Christmas resources, check out Acknowledging Our Pain – Resources for a Blue Christmas Service:
A couple of years ago I attended the O Antiphon service at St Marks Cathedral. It was my first experience of the O Antiphons and to be honest I did not really enjoy it as much as I should have because I really had no idea what the O Antiphons were.
Many of us are not familiar with this tradition which is best known in Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican churches and so I thought that a little repetition and a little more detail might be appreciated. You may even like to find an O Antiphon service to attend in the last week of Advent this year.
Most familiar today from the Advent hymn,O come, O come, Emmanuel (in Latin, Veni Emmanuel) which is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons, the seven traditional “O Antiphons” are actually more than a thousand years old. They have long been used at the very end of Advent (Dec. 17-23) in the liturgical prayer of the Church, as Antiphons for the “Magnificat” sung or recited during Vespers (the Evening Prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours). They are referred to as the “O Antiphons” because the title of each one begins with the interjection “O”. Each antiphon is a name of Christ, one of his attributes mentioned in Scripture.
The first letters of the titles are taken backwards form a Latin acrostic of “Ero Cras” which translates to “Tomorrow, I will be there”, mirroring the theme of the antiphons.
Saying the O Antiphons as a family, whether during grace at meals, in front of the manger scene, or in front of the Christmas tree, is a wonderful Advent devotion. Listen to the appropriate chant below and spend some time in silence drinking in its beauty and the wonder of Christ’s presence within it. To make the devotion even more fruitful, read and meditate together on the Scripture texts on which the antiphons are based.
December 17: O Sapientia (Is. 11:2-3; 28:29): “O Wisdom, you come forth from the mouth of the Most High. You fill the universe and hold all things together in a strong yet gentle manner. O come to teach us the way of truth.”
December 18: O Adonai (Is. 11:4-5; 33:22): “O Adonai and leader of Israel, you appeared to Moses in a burning bush and you gave him the Law on Sinai. O come and save us with your mighty power.”
December 19: O Radix Jesse (Is. 11:1, 10): “O stock of Jesse, you stand as a signal for the nations; kings fall silent before you whom the peoples acclaim. O come to deliver us, and do not delay.”
December 20: O Clavis David (Is. 9:6; 22:22): “O key of David and scepter of Israel, what you open no one else can close again; what you close no one can open. O come to lead the captive from prison; free those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”
December 21: O Oriens (Is. 9:1): “O Rising Sun, you are the splendor of eternal light and the sun of justice. O come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”
December 22: O Rex Gentium (Is. 2:4; 9:5): “O King whom all the peoples desire, you are the cornerstone which makes all one. O come and save man whom you made from clay.”
December 23:O Emmanuel (Is. 7:14) : “O Emmanuel, you are our king and judge, the One whom the peoples await and their Savior. O come and save us, Lord, our God.”
Kathy Schiffer provides a good introduction in her article He is Coming The Great O Antiphons.
And Catholic Culture suggests some helpful activities to incorporate in the celebration of the O Antiphons.
Or if you are looking for colouring pages of the O Antiphons check out these great ones that Michele Quigley has produced.
The Roman Catholic Lectionary website spells out the O Antiphons and provides Biblical readings for each of them.
Shop at St Marks – the cathedral shop at St Marks in Seattle where I first heard the O Antiphons has a beautiful O Antiphon CD. You can also listen to the on Youtube starting with the first O Antiphon O Sapientia
Fisheaters has mp3s of the O antiphons
You may also like to download this O Antiphon companion booklet.
Dank dark, down and delving
Devilling into the depths
Maybe here we shall find refuge
Away from the sun’s burning light.
Do not remain content with
Just under the surface of things
For here is where the seedlings sprout
And the good nuts crack
No! Do not stay here for pity’s sake
But work your way, writhe and bellow
Puff and blow, strive and muster
Further and further away from that
Damnable light that will
Change everything!
Stay the same, stay the same,
Keep things as they are.
If it aint broke don’t fix it.
I’m fine.
Really. Leave me alone.
I am happy here in the cold, rocky heart
Of the chasm, the abyss where not one chink
Of that blasted light can reach me.
What’s that you say?
The sun is in the soil?
Caught between the rocks?
Soaked into every molecule?
Full of nutrients and goodness?
A living water table?
Trickling through everything?
Light-infested world!
Where then shall we go?
* * * *
If it is the destiny of everything
To be bathed in light, as seems
To be the truth making itself known
In every crevice, each dark corner
Where the presence of shadow
Is only temporary, merely fleeting –
A curtain that must part to make way
For the pouring down and shining through –
Then, we may as well give up the game
Lay down the arms, lift hands up waving white,
Surrendering temporal to eternal
Ego to glorious Eternal- Self-in-God
Mask to imperfect smile, unchecked tears,
And step aside,
To let the divine pour.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015
Today’s video is not really a Christmas song but I have been listening to it this morning and have been profoundly impacted by both the lyrics and the images. It is very much in keeping with our theme Lean Towards the Light. In this season of Advent may we remember that Christ is indeed our guiding light.
Welcoming the Light – photo from Pixabay
by Joy Lenton
Our souls unfurl like flowers to the sun, warmed by the healing benediction of its welcoming rays.
Our eyes cannot tolerate gazing long at such brazen brightness but we appreciate the way heat seeps into our skin like a sweet embrace.
We yearn for the reassurance of holy radiance, the comfort of Presence which sun represents.
And on cold, wintry days our senses fight against diminishing hours of daylight and encroaching darkness.
We watch morning rise slow and sun stretch like an arthritic-limbed lady flexing hesitant fingers toward a new day.
Witness her glow reflected in sparkle of snow and twinkling ice etching unique patterns on the ground.
Our spirits lift to see a darkening world made pure-white.
Our hearts lean toward the light of Advent as we reflect on Light Himself shining in our darkness.
So we light a candle to remind ourselves again of why Jesus came.
Watch it flicker and grow steady, just as our faith flourishes strong when rooted in the reality of His coming.
We meditate on wonder wrapped up in life’s seemingly mundane moments.
Here lies holy Mystery. Here lies a joy-gift to the human race.
Here lies our history invaded and pervaded by His story of grace.
How to put words to the way the Word Himself has come to abide among us?
It’s not easy for finite minds to fathom the Incarnate Christ.
The poem below arose from an attempt to sit with these thoughts a while, to contemplate their magnitude.
candle – welcoming the Light photo by Joy Lenton
Welcoming Jesus…
We imagine you as helpless babe, held tight, warmly at rest
in human arms against the chill of Bethlehem’s night
Cocooned from the world’s gaze, your light’s fiery
rays lie concealed within folds of swaddled cloth
But your birth signals our new birth to come as the only
Way we can return to our heavenly Home
Your lungs cry out Life in abundance, fullness
now given to restore us to heaven’s wholeness
You battled your way into an earthly frame
to bring us freedom, respite from guilt and shame
Heaven came down as Mary bore you in blood, sweat and tears,
no doubt feeling the strain of those achingly silent years
when no discernible heavenly voice was heard
and hearts were hungry for a holy word
Then joy breaking through in exultant angelic
song as you broke through to where we belong
Light streamed into our darkness deep, Hope of
years rose strong from earth’s dust and ashes heap
Deceptively, outwardly mild and meek, you hold the strength
of the universe in your voice, the call of creation in your soul
the power of change for our hearts as you seek
to transform, redeem and make us whole
Blinding Light of ages blazes from your eyes,
causing men to avert their guilty faces
Because your gaze penetrates barriers we erect
within as your piercing sight sears our sin
And you see into the depths of our despair
with a tenderness at once unknown and rare
There is wisdom in the words you speak and
discernment into every heart you meet
You are diviner and divider, eternal
provider and bringer of peace
You are Alpha and Omega, beginning
and ending where all wars will cease
You are Truth and abundant Life revealing
You are open Word and hidden treasure concealing
You are Love beyond all human knowing
Our deepest need that keeps on growing
©JoyLenton2015
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