“From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani’—which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” Matthew 27:45-46
A painting I saw once has stuck in my mind. It was a painting of a door to a house which was a bit ajar. Light came streaming from the crack in the door as well as from some windows of the house. It left the observer feeling as if one was in the darkness and the light beckoned any who would venture to do so to enter. There was a sense of mystery of what may lie beyond the door if one was to enter. Would the door remain safely ajar for an exit if whatever was beyond the door was found to be too mysterious or if the light led to places that the observer wished not to enter after all. It was a kind of light that seemed welcoming and inviting. I think often of that painting when I feel like I do not really know what lies ahead but there is a compelling force drawing me into the promises of safety, warmth and inclusion.
People who have had near death experiences or who are dying sometimes speak of such a light to which they seem to be drawn.
Light can be a compelling and forceful invitation. But what about darkness? Is there anything about darkness which is as compelling as the light? What do we do when we are bidden to enter the darkness?
Darkness is not inviting. It seems to cry out of danger. An invitation into darkness asks us to become vulnerable; to enter the unknown; to enter isolation. Who wants to do that? Yet, there are dark places that afford us those very opportunities. They are certainly not as compelling as the promise of the light.
There are personal issues of darkness. These are places within ourselves we would rather not admit existed and by no means delve into. These dark places are our failures and faults. They are our guilt; our complacency and disregard. We would rather ignore these places as if they did not exist. We want no light brought there. We want to acknowledge them in no way whatsoever.
There are interpersonal issues which are dark places. There are conflicts and differences with others. Some of these are as fresh as our most recent encounters, others are festering secrets which have been harbored and hidden for years.
There are social issues of prejudice, oppression, injustice and poverty. Who really enters these? Oh, there are some who talk about them on the surface, but who opens them up to see the real issues honestly and in such a way that personal responsibility surfaces? Who does more than search for analysis or assign blame? These issues are issues of darkness…because of the pain, guilt and sometimes just the overwhelming magnitude of the problem they remain in the dark without any light penetrating the thick darkness that allows the evil to be protected and to grow.
When, or if, we become aware of these dark places we seldom feel compelled to enter in. The usual response is avoidance. There are feelings which range from sadness to fear to pain to guilt. None of which are pleasant and all of which we make every effort possible to avoid by denial and distraction.
When we fail to acknowledge or enter these dark places we are only partially living. We are excising from ourselves a great part of reality. We are denying who we are and where we are. We are leaving the truths and horrors of life out of our realm of exploring and learning.
We are also drastically limiting our experience with and knowledge of God. By avoiding the dark places we never really come to know the depth of God’s love and presence. We fail to realize that in spite of the darkness within us God loves us with an abiding presence. We fail to reap the benefits of relationships made whole and restored. We fail to see the Kingdom ordering of the world which we absently pray for in the words, “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” We fail to go where Christ went—into the darkness.
Entering the darkness was not inviting for Christ. The darkness for Christ brought extreme physical pain and even greater anguish of soul. He cried there. He felt as though God had abandoned him. He was alone there. Yet, he entered in the darkness.
Were we to follow Christ, were we to enter the darkness, what might happen? When Christ entered the darkness there was defeat of the darkness. There was an awareness of the depth of God’s love and presence. There was a working of the Divine plan. Darkness was overcome.
Were we to enter into the darkness we too would see the darkness defeated. We could begin to see the barriers fall. We could be loosed from the paralysis which has kept us bound and only half alive. We could begin to realize both the depth of God’s love for us and begin to imagine the world as God intends it to be. Were we to enter the darkness we would better be able to appreciate the coming light.
Light shall break forth again. But for this hour, we honor and enter the darkness, finding that all we fear—the horrors and terrors –can be and are defeated.
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