January in Minnesota is not for the faint of heart. I have distinct memories of my first January as a student at St. Olaf, having moved there from my home state of South Carolina, wholly unprepared for the bitter cold, early sunsets, and long nights that January would bring. As unprepared as I may have been, I eventually came to love aspects of the January darkness. There was something magical about emerging from a day of January-term intensives and choir rehearsal to behold the deep darkness of the snow-blanketed path to the dining hall. Bundled up in layers of fleece and wool, a silent nod communicated solidarity between peers in the quiet walk between buildings. The darkness and cold made the indoor warmth and light even cozier. Such is the unusual beauty of winter in the Midwest!
We are in a season of the Church year, Time after Epiphany, where we hear scripture readings and sing hymns that speak to the coming of light into the world. The imagery is especially strong on and around Epiphany, celebrated each year on January 6. On our January 4 program of Sing For Joy, we'll hear a setting of "Brightest and Best," which reminds us of the star's light that guided the magi to the infant Jesus. Later in that program, we'll hear the Keith Hampton choral anthem, "True Light,"" which reminds us that Jesus himself is the light of the world, shining forth into the darkness.
This light imagery stands in stark contrast to the darkness of deep winter where I live. I hear those readings in January and February and think, "I wish the light would emerge a bit more quickly!" In those moments, I am also challenged to remember that the presence of Christ is with us even in the darkness of winter and the shadows that surround us. In Barbara Brown Taylor's book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she writes, "I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light." This rings true; indeed, in the darkness of a Minnesota winter, there are lessons to be learned.
As you move through this season, however darkness appears for you, may it come with the assurance that God is there, too. May it come gently and with beauty, and may you open yourself to receive the presence of the divine in the dark as well as in the light.
Peace be with you,
