Hope
When I was growing up, for a number of years we’d always go to the Christmas Midnight Mass. Hundreds of people would cram into that 19th century Church, the stale air radiating the remnant of a blistering Campbelltown summer’s day. It was hot and uncomfortable, but there was always something special, almost mystical about it. Finally, after weeks and months of waiting, here we were in the middle of the night, the darkness all around was punctuated by the light shining from the Church. Finally, after all the hope and anticipation we were finally celebrating Jesus coming into the world at Christmas.
In the midst of the night’s darkness, light and hope had come into the world.
“The light shines in the darkness” (John 1:5a)
As I write this, I am on my annual silent retreat – something all priests and religious do every year. The truth is I wanted to write this weeks and months ago, and I had promised to write this weeks and months ago. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Why? Because in the darkness of Lockdown, I struggled to find this hope within me.
This year hasn’t been easy; it has been difficult and confronting. At time, in the midst of lockdowns and isolation from friends and family, it has seemed like hope was fading and distant, that the darkness was beginning to overcome.
In the middle of Melbourne’s long lockdown, I knew this reality. Separated from family and friends, tired of endless hours of zoom classes and meetings, hope felt a world away. In times of struggle and difficulty, temptation and suffering, hope can seem faint or even impossible.
The people of Israel in the first century knew this reality, too. Under the cruel oppression of the Roman Empire, the people of Israel held out hope for the long-promised messiah. In the midst of the oppression, suffering and darkness, they held tightly to the light, feint flicker of hope.
It was in the midst of this darkness that the light entered the world. It was in the midst of this world that the Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us. Christ did not cling to his equality with God, but became one of us, and “dwelt amongst us,” bringing light and hope into the darkness of the human experience.
It is this same light, this same Word, Jesus Christ, that has come and made his home in us, who has come to be light for us in the midst of our darkness.
This is why we are people of hope. This is why, in the midst of the oppressive darkness, when we can no longer see the light and all seems lost, we can hope in that thing we cannot see; because “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
So, wherever you find yourself as the year comes to a close, whether you’re doing well or you’re struggling or you’re somewhere in between, whether you experience the light of Christ shining brightly or you’ve lost sight of Him in the midst of the darkness, whether you are aware of the closeness of the Lord or you feel like you’ve lost your faith; now, more than ever we can cling to hope. Because no matter where you find yourself, no matter how distant you feel, Jesus is the Word become flesh, dwelling in that very place with us. No matter how dark, Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome him.
As we come to Christmas, my hope and my prayer for you is that, no matter where you find yourself, Jesus will be born in your heart in a new and deeper way this Christmas.
Be assured of my prayers. Love and peace.