What a week! I had wondered
if the fear, grief and depression which followed the election would have abated
somewhat by this weekend. Yet, it still remains but for many it has turned to
activism. That sometimes takes the form of large protests but mostly it is in the
small deeds of kindness and support.
This week the lectionary
offers two choices of gospel passage. I read them both, the phrase that stayed
with me was, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break
upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78-79).
I particularly liked the phrase “the dawn from on high will
break upon us”. It had a real Celtic feel about it. The reality of the cycle of
life. After darkness there is always light. It is inevitable. The dawn will
come. It is bigger than us, it is bigger than our lifespan.
As many of you know, part of our lifestyle is to start the day
in the hot tub. We often watch the dawn arriving. We get into the tub in the
dark (we don’t put lights on). As we sit and sip our morning cup of tea light
starts to penetrate the darkness. It is not a sudden thing, there is not a
moment when we switch from darkness to light. It is almost imperceptible. Trees
start to become recognizable shapes, the outline of a deer can be made out, shadowy
objects become garden furniture and the stars recede as light overtakes
darkness.
For me, that picture really summed up the atmosphere of the last
two weeks. The darkness has remained. Yet, I think now glimmers of light are
starting to show through. These are the stories that are emerging of ordinary people
helping and supporting those most at risk.
I have read or been told many
stories of people showing kindness to strangers. They are committed to making
sure those in their immediate sphere are cared for and supported in the face of
persecution. These are glimmers of light ushering in the dawn.
Others have been writing or
phoning their political representatives. Their phone calls are not about fiscal
policies or educational reforms but about the way human beings are being
treated. They are to advocate for people who should be afforded protection by
the country they live in. These, too, are glimmers of light.
Still others are supporting
organisations which stand up for human rights. They are using their personal
resources to help to ensure that legal protection will be available for those
who need it. More glimmers of light.
I am sure that each person
reading this could add a story about a glimmer of light.
Yet as I write this, things
still feel fairly dark. The only thing I can be sure of is that the dawn will
arrive. I have no idea how long it will take. I don’t know what energies will
be expended in ushering it in. I don’t even know that it will get fully light
in my lifetime. But ultimately light will overcome the darkness . . . it always
does.
(Photographs: Dawn breaking over Broadkill Beach, Delaware. November 2015. © Jane Hall Fitz-Gibbon)
