HELLO DARKNESS…MY OLD FRIEND
THOUGHTS FOR CHRISTMAS TIME

      I saw my first Rembrandt at the Los Angeles County Museum. The first thing I noticed was how dark the painting was. It seemed to me that Rembrandt began all his work by painting the canvas black. Then he began to bring forth the life and the light.

      We may not like this metaphor for life, but I think that is the way it is. And that is the Christmas story in a nutshell.

      Both the poets of Genesis and the astronomer's of today talk about the time when there was only darkness, then suddenly, light.

      From the darkness of the womb we are born into light.

      From birth until death we paint our existence against the canvas of darkness.

      This sounds a bit grim, but a fact of life.

      No matter what our disposition, life keeps painting darkness over the canvass of life. It may be the weather, like the hurricanes out of the Caribbean. It may be the horrible turn of history in which warfare with all its sorrow and brutality dominate lives. It may be the bad luck of the draw in which some are born in terribly poor 3rd world countries, or into homes where addiction of one kind or another assures the children of poverty, sickness and abuse. Or it may be the turn of life in which a relationship is broken or job lost. It might be that in the abundance and rush to have it all, all is too much, and the canvass is painted black again.

      The main thing is not to leave the canvass black.

      One of my favorite Christmas texts over the years is this one, from Luke's poem that we call the "Benedictus."

"And you [John] will be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord…to prepare his ways when the day shall dawn from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death."
      The reason I like that text is because as a minister I knew how many out there were having a hard time with Christmas. It was not all twinkling lights and merry gentlemen. Gertrude Jordan, for instance, would be there. How could I forget that one Christmas Eve her daughter died in a car accident, and on another her husband died? Her canvass was painted black. She sat in darkness and the shadow of death. And so did many others.

      Dr. Dwayne Dyer wrote a book called Your Erroneous Zones. He talked about the shadow of death that hangs over life. I changed his word, "death" to "darkness."

Look over your shoulder. You will notice a constant companion. For want of a better name, call him 'darkness.' You can fear this visitor or use him for your personal gain. The choice is up to you. With 'darkness' so endless a proposition, and life so breathtakingly brief, ask yourself: Should I avoid doing the things I really want to do? Should I live my life as others want me to? Are things important to accumulate? You can fear darkness, ineffectually, or you can use it to help you to learn to live effectively.  (Dwayne Dyer, Your Erroneous Zones, p. 17)
      This has been a great week in which to greet the Christmas season. I can't remember it so dark and dreary and rainy. That's the way it should be. We begin to paint against the darkness. Depression, the dark cloud. Grief, the valley of the dark shadow. Sin, the dark blot. Tragedy, the shadow always with us.

      Then we receive the promise of the day that shall dawn from on high. We take up our brush and paint in a bit of color, a bit of light, some glow. Candles and icicle lights until they fill our house and overflow our neighborhood. Hello, darkness…my old friend. In the Christian Advent we look forward with a great hope. The same creation that gave light and life to the universe is born into our world and dwells in us.

Art Morgan, Christmas 1997