The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor. . .
You will bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. . . .
For nothing will be impossible with God.” (LUKE 1:30-31, 37)
TODAY IS THE 4th SUNDAY OF ADVENT. And for people in the northern hemisphere, it is also the eve of the Winter Solstice, when the days are shortest and the nights are longest. Before us lies the darkness and the winter, and in this particular year, the reality that a deadly virus is afoot in the land. Because of recent advances in medicine, we have a hope. But as we have a considerable distance yet from getting a handle on it, we also have a wait.
Waiting and hoping. Precisely the prescribed posture for faith during Advent. Because…
Into the darkest night, Christ came
Therefore, don’t lose hope. Hold to the wisdom that darkness is deepest before the dawn. Hopeful hearts draw meaning from the skies just before morning. The world is about to turn. The sun is coming.
Into a desperate time,
in an occupied land,
to a disinherited people,
in the dark of night,
a couple of travelers
found no accommodation
amidst harsh circumstances.
And the woman gave birth to
a Savior, Emmanuel. God With Us.
Into the darkest night, Christ came.
Thank God for Mary, the mother, whose courage and trust in the face of the unknown is an inspiration to our faith. Because of her openness to the impossible, we too can be open. Here’s something you can say (or read) in your prayers during dark nights.
Litany for dark nights
THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN
As night deepens let us open to prayer.
The night is for stillness,
when the quiet of stars descend,
when the ebb-tide comes to all striving,
and the busy world is hushed;
Let us be still in the presence of God.
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
the past is behind,
the glass has been drained,
and what has not been done has not been done;
Let us release the past into the care of God.
The night is dark now.
The shades of evening are drawn.
The spread of darkness advances.
The shape of the unknown is vague,
and the mystery of what’s next emerges.
Let our fears of the darkness rest in God.
The night is quiet.
The listening ear searches out sounds —
of the approach of movement,
of the wind at the window,
of the announcement of hope.
Let us listen for the presence of God.
The night heralds the dawn.
The morning brings light —
of the promise of peace,
of the presence of joy,
of the birth of the Child.
We look expectantly to a new day.
We look for the coming of promise,
for the coming of love.
How can this be?
Nothing is impossible with God.
Prayer
I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever;
. . .with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.
Come, Lord Jesus, bring your light . . .
◆ For all those who have no home, tonight:
◆ For those who in isolation, fear, desperation or sorrow wait:
◆ For the disinherited ones who long for justice:
◆ For those in the darkness of war and persecution:
◆ For those who are sick and dying, and those who care for them:
◆ For expectant mothers, parents, guardians, and children:
◆ For government leaders seeking wisdom and guidance:
◆ For our world, that it know the light of your peace, we pray. Amen.
I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever;
. . .with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.
✚ ✚ ✚
LORD OF LOVE,
We look for the coming of promise,
for the coming of love.
Your promise. Your love.
How can this be?
Nothing is impossible with You.
Amen.
This liturgy is inspired by Luke 1:26-38 and an anonymous prayer from Pocket Prayers For Pilgrims, compiled by John Prichard, © 2011, Church House Publishing. “I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever; . . . with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.” (Psalm 89:1)