Thus far it's been a dark and gloomy December. The sky is invariably grey, and even when the sun rises stupendously, it rarely seems to have the energy to continue shining all day. I find myself switching lights on at around 3pm, only 5 hours or so since I switched them off! It's not surprising that so much of our Advent and Christmas imagery centres on light in darkness - by now in this part of the northern hemisphere, at least, we're longing for light!
And today, of course, is that pivotal point in the calendar: midwinter, the longest night. However gloomy and rainy today and subsequent days might be, we know that the nights will not get any longer; in fact, slowly, imperceptibly, they can only start getting shorter. O joy!!
The other day, as I was switching on lights, it occurred to me that both of the church's major feasts begin in the darkness of the night and centre on light. We begin celebrating Christmas - that silent, holy night - at Midnight Mass, where we are reminded that the people that walked in darkness has seen a great light. Here, in the depths of winter gloom, that light can seem tiny and fragile, just as a baby is... although we also know, as the evangelist John says, that the darkness cannot overpower it. And then, a few months later, we gather around a fire at the Easter Vigil, to proclaim that Christ is our light! Not only has the light not been overpowered by darkness, it has now given us a glorious night truly blessed, when heaven is wedded to earth... which, of course, is what Christmas night is as well!
And as one of my favourite Christmas songs is O Night Divine, all this pondering gives me an excellent excuse to share this version, complete with video clips from The Nativity. A lovely song to sing in the winter darkness, as we prepare for the coming of that Light, both tiny and great, all at once.
And today, of course, is that pivotal point in the calendar: midwinter, the longest night. However gloomy and rainy today and subsequent days might be, we know that the nights will not get any longer; in fact, slowly, imperceptibly, they can only start getting shorter. O joy!!
The other day, as I was switching on lights, it occurred to me that both of the church's major feasts begin in the darkness of the night and centre on light. We begin celebrating Christmas - that silent, holy night - at Midnight Mass, where we are reminded that the people that walked in darkness has seen a great light. Here, in the depths of winter gloom, that light can seem tiny and fragile, just as a baby is... although we also know, as the evangelist John says, that the darkness cannot overpower it. And then, a few months later, we gather around a fire at the Easter Vigil, to proclaim that Christ is our light! Not only has the light not been overpowered by darkness, it has now given us a glorious night truly blessed, when heaven is wedded to earth... which, of course, is what Christmas night is as well!
And as one of my favourite Christmas songs is O Night Divine, all this pondering gives me an excellent excuse to share this version, complete with video clips from The Nativity. A lovely song to sing in the winter darkness, as we prepare for the coming of that Light, both tiny and great, all at once.
Comments
Post a Comment