"Be not afraid; for behold, I
bring you Good News of a great joy... This day is born the Savior", that
is, he who, as Son of God and Son of the Father, has traveled (in obedience to
the Father) the path that leads away from the Father and into the darkness of
the world. Behind him omnipotence and freedom; before, powerlessness, bonds and
obedience. Behind him the comprehensive divine vision; before him the prospect
of the meaninglessness of death on the Cross between two criminals, Behind him
the bliss of life with the Father; before him, grievous solidarity with all who
do not know the Father, do not want to know him and deny his existence. Rejoice
then, for God himself has passed this way! – Hans Urs Von Balthasar
The musical group Over the Rhine
entitled their 1996 Christmas album TheDarkest Night of the Year. The tone
of the record matches the title. It is
Christmas sung from somewhere near St.
John of the Cross’ Dark
Night of the Soul. Granted, not
everyone will find that appealing, but I have a soft spot for it because anyone
who knows me knows that I have a fascination with darkness. I’m fascinated by our collective instinct in
relation to it. I’m fascinated by the
mystery and unknown quality of the darkness, and the potential it has to reveal
something of the Being and actions of God.
And I’m fascinated to survey a landscape that God promises will be transformed
and imagine what it might look like after that transformation.
It seems to me most folks aren’t
comfortable with the dark, and I include myself in that number. Leave me alone in a dark unknown room, and
the heebie-jeebies that follow have the potential to cause a panic. So we often try to mitigate the dark, and
introduce some level of light into the murk.
I suppose we could ignore it and make due until our eyes adjust. Or we could sit quietly and wait for a light
source to present itself. Some actually
enjoy the dark, and are irritated at any inroads the light might make. It’s rare though that anyone who prefers a
lit room to a pitch black one would be willing to enter a pitch black room and
remain there until given permission to leave it, though that of course is the
heart of the story we celebrate every December 25.
With that in mind, I think I’m going to make it a
Christmas tradition to post a link to the homily below every year on this blog. It is a relatively short, but potent review
of a story we can tend to be overly familiar with. It’s also
the sermon from which this blog takes its title, Into the Dark With God. Enjoy.
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