‘Embracing the Darkness, Welcoming the Light’ - Rev Adam Slate

From Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor

‘Darkness’ is shorthand for anything that scares me–that I want no part of–either because I am sure that I do not have the resources to survive it or because I do not want to find out. The absence of God is in there, along with the fear of dementia and the loss of those nearest and dearest to me. So is the melting of the polar ice caps, the suffering of children, and the nagging question of what it will feel like to die. If I had my way, I would eliminate everything from chronic back pain to fear of the devil from my life and the lives of those I love–if I could just find the right night-lights to leave on.

At least I think I would. The problem is this: when, despite all my best efforts, the lights have gone off in my life (literally or figuratively, take your pick), plunging me into the kind of darkness that turns my knees to water, nonetheless I have not died. The monsters have not dragged me out of bed and taken me back to their lair. The witches have not turned me into a bat. Instead, 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.

Introduction

Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. Here in London, we can expect 16 hours of darkness. For several of our congregants on the European continent, you will be without the sun for 16 ½ hours. And for our northern-most member, up in Glasgow, nighttime will be 17 hours long. 

Winter means more darkness and colder weather than other times of year. Many of us lament the shorter days and find ourselves longing for more sunshine. We can struggle to maintain the outdoor routines that we enjoy during warmer weather. For those who suffer from seasonal affective disorder, this time of year can lead to low moods and fatigue, and may require treatment like light therapy, counselling, or changes to diet and exercise regimes.

And then there are some among us who are inclined towards the dark–its quiet and its peacefulness. Dark days and gloomy weather can nurture a desire to draw inward. Nighttime exposes us to a different world than we experience during the day. 

Winter solstice is the moment when the days that have been getting shorter and shorter begin to lengthen again. When the rhythm of our year reverses. The lovely thing about the pagan observance of Winter Solstice is that it invites us to pause at the moment of this turning to reflect on the aspects of darkness and night that earth-centred religions have appreciated for millenia.

Western Preference for Light over Darkness

Lindsay will have more to say about the Winter Solstice and the pagan observances that surround it in a bit, but I want to focus on this relationship between darkness and light and how it has been shaped by Western culture.

Our society has long shown a preference for light over darkness, with light representing goodness, purity, and knowledge and darkness representing evil, the unknown, and ignorance. There are so many examples of this, and I only get half-a-message this morning in order to leave room for Lindsay, but I will point out a few!

In the Jewish and Christian scriptures, the very first thing that God says, right at the beginning… the third sentence of the whole canon: is ‘Let there be light.’ And God judges the light to be good. 

In Plato’s Parable of the Cave, the Greek philosopher depicts people living in relative darkness, thinking the shadows from outside on the cave walls are the only reality, and then turning around to the mouth of the cave and being dazzled by the sun and the three-dimensional outside world… literally becoming ‘enlightened.’

In allegorical stories from literature and film that rely on mythical archetypes, the white is often used to represent the protagonist’s goodness or purity. Like Snow White. Or in the American wild west genre, where a white cowboy hat often denotes the hero. In Lord of the Rings, Galdalf the Gray is reborn as Gandalf the White.

The villain is often depicted in black. The Wicked Witch of the West. Darth Vader. In ‘The Lion King,’ the hyenas live in a dark, shadowy place.

The interesting thing is that the storyteller expects that the audience will understand the significance of white vs black… and we do. Is there anyone raised in Eurocentric culture who would see Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader battling with light sabers for the first time and not know who to root for?

And the reason we know is that this trope mirrors Western societal norms.

Traditionally, we use white clothing to suggest purity. Think of the pope, or how some Christian traditions dress babies for baptism or christenings. Brides wear white at weddings. In our society, lighter hair is often associated with higher social status.

On the other hand, we wear black at funerals. Animal shelters even have a harder time finding homes for black cats than other cats. The connection between black and the unknown has made it a popular clothing choice for some alternative cultural groups.

This preference for light over darkness has been ingrained in Western societies for centuries. Of course, the most tragic consequence of this preference has been the white, Western assumption of superiority over cultures of darker-skinned people whom the West have oppressed, colonised, exploited, and inflicted violence upon for centuries.

There is growing awareness of the damage caused by social assumptions around ‘white equals good’ and ‘black equals bad.’ Some groups are moving away from metaphors built on those assumptions. The Unitarian Universalist Worship Web—a site that contains chalice lightings, meditations, prayers, and other readings that people can use for worship—no longer accepts submissions that rely on those outdated and potentially harmful stereotypes.

This change is particularly important for faith groups. Some predominantly white, Western religious traditions are figuring out what other faiths around the world have known since almost as far back as civilisations have existed on earth: that darkness and light reflect a balance, and each holds a vital place in the world.

The idea is embodied by the taijitu—the Chinese Yin-Yang symbol that illustrates how opposing concepts like dark and light, body and spirit, female and male aren’t hierarchies, but rather are complementary forces necessary for harmony in the universe. We see this philosophical concept formalised in the I Ching and early Taoism a few centuries BCE, but the underlying concept of balance between complementary opposites can be found in Eastern writings at least a thousand years before that.

Learning to Walk in the Dark

Observing the Winter Solstice is a gift from pagan traditions that reminds us of the need for both darkness and light. That rather than darkness being the negative of lightness, it has its own place in the cosmos. It represents dormancy, intimacy, and rest; space for us to change and grow.

It is the womb that protects us. The quiet place where a seed first begins to sprout. The space between musical notes that allows a melody to blossom. The romantic setting where couples might feel the depth of their connection. The loveliness of a stroll in the woods at night, or city streets at 1 a.m. after the throngs of people have gone home.

The Episcopal priest and author Barbara Brown Taylor, whose reading we heard earlier, has written a book—a love letter to the night—called Learning to Walk in the Dark. In it she probes our fears around darkness, and the meanings we have attached to it. She takes us through her journey of unravelling those negative meanings to a place where the night becomes something both beautiful and necessary.

Rev Taylor shows us that darkness and light are both part of us; that the negative constructs we have created around the dark come from a human place of fear and fragility; and that by unwinding them, we can learn to embrace the beauty and wonder that waits for us in the night.

May you experience this year’s Winter Solstice with a renewed sense of peace and awe.