The Longest
Night
5:2 But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little
clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel,
whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.
5:3 Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is
in labor has brought forth; then the rest of his kindred shall return to the
people of
5:4 And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the
LORD, in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God. And they shall live
secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth;
5:5 and he shall be the one of peace.
When I think of the public image of
Christmas, I think of the malls, of Santa Claus and lots of Christmas
lights. Everyone is supposed to be
smiling, or sitting by a warm fire with hot cider. I’ve realized, this year in particular, the
glitter and glamour is really meant to distract us from reality— for months
now, the nights have been getting longer and the air has been getting colder. Another year is almost over and I wonder:
“Did I get everything done I meant to?
What comes next?” Despite the Gap
commercials filled with singing and dancing, despite all the red and the green,
this isn’t always a happy season.
At the beginning of this month we sang
the song O Come, O come, Emanuel.
Held ransom and captive
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night… and
Please,
Emanuel, put death’s dark shadows to flight…
Advent is a dark time. Tonight is the longest night of the
year. As if we were moving through a
tunnel, we are in darkness. We feel
isolated and lonely. With all the trees
and lights we’re expected to be happy.
We’re supposed spend all month shopping for gifts, hours preparing food,
we travel great distances to be with family. All the malls, and all the
Christmas carols all say that this a happy time! But our private Christmas, those feelings we
hold inside, aren’t always happy. We are
afraid to share our pain. We don’t think
we’re allowed to disturb the holiday cheer.
And so we walk around, hiding the parts of ourselves that hurt.
That’s what darkness is. Being alone and in pain. When you can’t talk about how the holidays
are really hard. And that’s why we’re
here. We bring all of ourselves to the table;
we bring all of our joy and all of our pain; we bring our complete selves to
God. We are here to listen, to lift each
other up, and to be in the darkness together.
My family has a long-standing tradition
of singing Christmas carols, including acting out all 12 days of Christmas, and
casting roles for We Three Kings.
It’s a time of the day when we all get to laugh and let it all loose.
But this Christmas will be especially
hard for my family. Two weeks before
Thanksgiving Esther, one of the grandmothers in my family, got very sick. After three weeks of ups and downs, shortly
after Thanksgiving Esther died.
I realize now that I didn’t know Esther
very well. But my sister reminded me,
that my mom met Esther when she was 12; Esther was a second mother to my
mom. When we eat dinner this year, there
will be an empty place at the table. We
will feel Esther’s absence, we will feel empty.
Advent is a dark and lonely time, a time
of waiting and hoping.
We wait for something to come along and
rescue us from the darkness. We wait for
some sense to be made of our suffering and our pain. We wait for something new to happen that will
revive and rejuvenate us for another year.
In the book of Matthew, Jesus tells the
parable of the lost sheep. I imagine it
happened like this:
A shepherd has 100 sheep. He spends all day with them; he knows them
all by name. One morning he wakes up to
find one missing. The shepherd knows
exactly which one is missing; it’s a small and quiet little sheep that always
stays at the fray. The shepherd dashes
into the fields and hills to find the lost lamb. The little lamb spent the entire night under
a tree, unsure that anyone would ever come looking for him. The shepherd finds the lamb curled up under
the tree, shivering in the cold and shaking with fear. The shepherd is so happy and relieved; he
takes the lamb into his arms. He hugs
the lamb and comforts him. And when they
return together, the little lamb is very happy to be with his flock again.
We are that lost lamb. Somehow when we weren’t paying attention and
we got separated from our flock. Whether
we are mourning, hiding, suffering from depression or something else all
together, we are lost and scared. In the
darkness of night we wonder if anyone is looking for us.
Micah tells us today:
And he,
who shall come from a small town to rule
all of
shall stand and feed his flock in the strength
of the LORD…
And he shall be the one of peace.
Advent is a time of waiting and
hoping. We are waiting and hoping in
this darkness for Jesus.
There is a shepherd out there anxiously
looking for us. And he will not give up
looking for us until we are found. That
shepherd is Jesus, and he can reach us, he can find us, in whatever darkness we
are in. He will find my family, and help
us through this Christmas. Each of us
will, throughout the day, have a quiet moment, when we stop and realize that
Esther is gone. But we will come back
from that quiet and lonely place.
Brought back to a family who, still, after all these years can’t
remember what move to make for “two turtle doves” and “three French hens.”
We celebrate Advent to remember what is
important to us, to lift up the pain of darkness, and to remember that there is
hope in light. For some of us the
candles of joy and hope may not be easy to light, this year. Joy may not be waiting for us at the end of
Advent. For some, our own Advent season
may take much longer. But there is hope.
After tonight, the days begin to get
longer, and the light begins to grow, and the dark begins to recede. With the birth of Jesus, we find a light at
the end of the tunnel, a beacon in the darkness. We find a lamp unto our feet, and a light
unto our paths. God has not abandoned us
in our time of darkness, God has heard our prayers and sent to earth a
son. He shall be called Wonderful,
Counselor, Prince of Peace.
Our shepherd has found us. We are no longer lost. Like a shepherd, God curls us up into his
arms and cradles us, comforts us, reassures us, loves us. God rejoices that we have been found.
Thanks be to God.