These mountain peaks are also known for separating the
village from the sun’s rays. As winter approaches, the village’s daily
allotment of direct sunlight shrinks smaller and smaller until the residents
only have a tiny, 30-minute window when the low-lying sun peeks out and briefly
smiles on them all.
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| Brief sunlight in a Washington village |
I had the chance to be in this little village last January,
and it didn’t take long for me to crave those short moments of sunlight. The
whole village was on high alert for high noon, and when the mountain’s shadow
began retreating across the valley, we’d all run outside, leaving our coats
behind to bask in our daily ration of radiant warmth.
Of course, one doesn’t have to go to a tiny mountain village
in order to notice the stinginess of sunlight in winter. Our drives to
and from work right now are in twilight, if not total darkness. When we eat
dinner, the moon is shining bright. For the most part, every day in Advent is a
little darker than the one before it. We begin to crave sunlight. Darkness
seeps into us, weighing us down and making us wonder, however irrational it may
sound, if the light will ever return.
This is why we light candles. It’s why we cover our trees
and our homes in strings of little electric bulbs. And, it’s why we fill our
ears with the warm and joyous songs of the season. It’s why, during the darkest
time of the year, we wait with great anticipation for the one we call The Light
of the World. The Gospel of John writes about this light, Jesus Christ, in
this way, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light
of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not
overcome it.”
As Christmas day approaches, the shadow of darkness is
retreating across the world. It won’t be long before our anticipation gets the
best of us and we run to bask in the radiant, life-giving light of Jesus
Christ.
Chad McKenna is a pastor-in-residency at St. Paul.
