Crashing in The Darkness

Waves, picture by Sr Donna Smith, 2021

Have you ever sat and just listened to waves lapping against the shoreline? “Yes”, what about on a very cold winter’s night and the water is meeting the ice cap that has formed along the shoreline? Imagine the sound of geese off to the west and a distant train echoing through town, but what I hear the most is the unique sound of water splashing over the ice along the banks of Lake Ontario.

It is like an unfolding roll of thunder, not an unpleasant noise, but a sound that is intriguing and mysterious to listen to. It is quiet then suddenly a wave hits the ice cap, sprays over it, and ebbs back into the lake. Isn’t that how our mind works some days? Our minds are quiet then without prelude we are awash with a flood of thoughts and emotions disquieting our stillness, awakening us from our darkness, or maybe even bringing the darkness with it.

How do we cope with this intrusion in our minds? Do we accept it and carry on or do we meander over each new thought and emotion? Each time we experience this differently, but we must never let these moments overwhelm us. We are invited to sift out what is good and carry that forward, perhaps especially these days of isolation. It is in these moments that God speaks to us if we are truly listening with the heart. It is in this darkness that we may crash about but we are never if open, beaten. Rather, in these moments we are offered opportunities to draw us closer to what really matters in life: our families, our friends, our contacts, but most of all the beauty of creation, faith, and values of God.

So, let’s take the time and listen to the darkness and what is crashing about, we will never know what God wants us to hear when we cannot see it in the light of day.

 - Sister Donna Smith, CSJ | Feb 17, 2021 Cobourg, Ontario

Little Pieces of Light

The terrible chaos, the violence, the destruction of the insurrection in Washington draped a further layer of darkness over the darkness of the pandemic. Suddenly, everything became even darker, more desolate. It all seemed so surreal, nightmarish. What unfolded on Capitol Hill was like something we might see unfold in a movie but not in real life.

“One of the darkest days in the history of our nation” was how president-elect Joe Biden described these events of January 6. This darkness was far-reaching, and I reached for a small book on my bookshelf, Joyce Rupp’s Little Pieces of Light.  Amidst the devastating darkness, I longed for light, even if they were just little pieces of light to brighten my day and lighten my heart.  You might wonder why I did not turn to the One who said, “I am the light of the world.” I think I did and was led to pick up the little book.  As I flipped through the pages, the first couple of lines in the introduction caught my eye. I read what I did not want to hear! “We need light for our journey, but we also need darkness.” Darkness for transformation, it went on to tell me. Well, yes, I know that.  Did I want to be reminded?  Certainly not.  I was looking for words of comfort, consolation, encouragement.  I was searching for little pieces of light to penetrate the darkness to give me courage, to go on, even a glimmer, some sparse light would help to lift a corner of the darkness. Just enough light in that moment of darkness, so I might hear that small, still voice within whispering, “I am with you, always.”

If I felt overwhelmed by the darkness, safely ensconced in my lockdown space far away from the devastation in the Capitol Building in Washington, how would those women and men have been feeling while hiding from the stampede of the hordes ravaging the Capitol. I doubt many were praying, “In the shadow of your wings, I take refuge until the destruction passes.” (Ps 57) When we are afraid, wrapped in darkness it is hard to keep the spark of hope alive in the empty places of our hearts.  Yet if, though it be hard, we “keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head bent low with patience … The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish.”  (Rabindranath Tagore)

On Wednesday of this week, ‘morning’ did come, and it came early.  It came on Tuesday evening with a somber sundown ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial where the glow of 400 lights were illuminated along the edges of the Lincoln Reflecting Pool.  Between sundown and dusk, these lights shone in the darkness along the pool of reflection, foreshadowing even brighter light about to break through - and break through it did. 

““Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness” Desmond Tutu ”

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness" Desmond Tutu wrote years ago during those dark times in South Africa.  Joe Biden, inaugurated on Wednesday as the 46th President of the United States of America, also believes there can be light despite all the darkness of recent times. On the steps of the Capitol Building, where just two weeks earlier chaos and terror had reigned, a luminous event unfolded peacefully.  Calm descended upon the Capitol, the city, the State.  Far-reaching calm and peace spread out, as beautiful, reassuring words were spoken eloquently with conviction and dedication.  Soothing balm for many, these light-filled moments echoed throughout the day.  Little pieces of light were scattered everywhere throughout that momentous, memorable day.

This is what stood out for me: Joe Biden’s radiant face, his smile, and the infectious smile of Kamala Harris, his delightful Vice President.  Furthermore, there was the beautiful, luminous Amanda Gorman, the young poet laureate.  She most certainly was far more than a little piece of light. Poised and self-assured, she scattered glowing pieces of light as she eloquently shared her poem The Hill We Climb.  This enormously gifted young African American woman is the embodiment of Desmond Tutu’s words, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” In a country where such profound darkness has been experienced by so many and where the slogan, Black Lives Matter, has echoed throughout the land, there on the steps of the Capitol Building at this momentous occasion, this young woman’s light shone brightly for all to see. There is hope for the future, for, as Amanda put it, “There is always light.  If only we’re brave enough to SEE it, if only we’re brave enough to BE it.”

Did we not experience on this momentous, historical day, that “God cannot be limited by any human concept or prediction. [That] He is greater than our mind and heart and perfectly free to reveal himself where and when he wants”? (Henri Nouwen; You are the Beloved)

-Sister Magdalena Vogt, cps