 |
| The dawn from on high will break upon us.... |
I got up the past few mornings early, unable to sleep. The
night seemed heavy and impenetrable. Memories of yet another massacre hung in
my head as I settled in to do my morning prayers. As I read the Lord’s Prayer,
I closed my eyes and said those words slowly and deliberately, holding in my
heart all those on my prayer list, especially the families in San Bernardino
who have had a new identity thrust open them: that of victims of violence and
mass murder. I opened my eyes, and saw that the sun had miraculously risen
again, suddenly and stealthily, and in that roseate light my eyes fell upon
these words in the Prayer Book from the Song of Zechariah:
In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
To shine on those who dwell in darkness and the
shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
We will hear these words again as the canticle for this
upcoming second Sunday in Advent. We will say together the words of hope and
anticipation, words that express the joy of longing almost within reach. A
prayer of thanks for God’s care and concern over us even in the midst of
turmoil, and that calls us to turn, to repent, to change our orientation from
darkness and toward light.
Even in the chill of approaching winter, in the shadow of
terror that hangs over our world, it
seems all to easy to respond to violence with violence , to meet fear with
fear. In a time that seems all too enmeshed in aggression, in rejection, in
hate, the Song of Zechariah holds out the hope that we can be led back to paths
of peace from darkness and the shadow of death—that same terrible place
mentioned in the 23rd Psalm, the place where hope seems the dimmest,
when all life and hope hangs by a thread. But that is also where God waits with
us, sending forth light in the darkness to allow us to change our orientation
toward death and fear, and toward light and hope.
Singer/songwriter Tracy Chapman has a beautiful song, called
“Change,” that ends with this repeated question: “If you saw the face of God
and Love, would you change?” Advent is a time that reminds us that change is
coming, but that change requires our agency, if only through being willing to
persevere, to hope and then to act. Chapman’s song asks, “What chain reaction,
what cause and effect makes you turn around, makes you forgive and forget?” Too
often we are told that nothing will change. But what if Zechariah’s song points
us toward an answer? What if we turn away from the darkness and hopelessness
that weighs us down, and instead turn our eyes toward the shattering light of
hope, and then put our feet on the path of peace instead? The light of God is
not just comfort but strength, strength to envision a better world for
ourselves, and to act to bring it to birth.
Have we ever needed words such as these more? Zechariah’s
song is full of hope, anticipating a victory for those who have been afraid for
far too long. Zechariah sings of freedom—freedom from fear, from the hands of
those who hate us. If you remember the last time that you felt gripped by fear,
you remember how it may have felt like a vise, like bands across your chest,
making it hard to breathe, to move, to speak.
Our way out of the darkness starts with opening our eyes to
hope—hope strengthened by the knowledge that we are called to change, to turn
our feet from paths of fear to paths of peace.
Blessed be God, indeed, for God has come to the people and
set them free—free to worship without fear. And fear seems the biggest enemy of
all for us—fear of the sudden darkness and cold that steals upon us when we
turn our eyes from the light we hope is just over the horizon. The Song of
Zechariah reminds us that it is fear that binds us, but God is there to give us
the strength to break free, and once free to determine for ourselves to put our
feet on a different path.
(This was first published on Episcopal Cafe's Speaking to the Soul for December 4, 2015.)
No comments:
Post a Comment