Lighten our Darkness

This is the title of an Anglican prayer we say during both evening prayers and the service of compline. I find it brings me peace and stillness as I shift from the busyness of daytime to the healing repose of nightfall.

This prayer invites God to enter into our space, to bring us protection and guidance as we slumber. I have prayed it so many times that the words often fall from my lips unthinkingly; my breathing shifts and life feels less complicated. I know this prayer so well that I confess I often reach the Amen without having fully absorbed every word I’ve spoken.

In Anglican and other faith traditions, morning and evening prayers serve as transitions or markers for people in a community, as we shift our focus from rest to awakening, and from activity to slumber.

The season of Autumn is, to me, rather like these prayers. We are shifting from a period of work, growth and abundance to the chill of winter. Nature slows down, then rests. Animals hibernate, trees drop their leaves and go dormant. Sunlight wanes in intensity and daylight is shorter during our waking hours.

The dying light and switch of the seasons bring gusty winds, first snowstorms and water transformed to hard ice. Some say it’s not beautiful, and there’s not much to celebrate. But I believe these are simply a series of changes that give us opportunity to look both backward and forward: reflecting on the past and observing our unfolding life.

The brilliance of sun sparkling on fresh winter snow will transform our landscape. Some of us can’t wait for the white mantle to cover and hide the messiness of decaying autumn leaves. Perhaps like the prayer, we want to rush through to autumn’s Amen so we can rejoice and revel in the beauty of winter?

Regardless of how we experience this season, it is very much a transitional time, and these often bring uncertainty and fear, as well as anticipation. We ask the same old questions:

What will the winter bring?

What’s going to happen next?

Will things be hard?

What about Christmas and New Year?

We’re not the only ones: I see the same themes explored in news headlines and community conversations, and they echo my own inner thoughts as my personal seasons of life slip by.

We mark this transition time through celebration. Early November sees the church and the community celebrating Scares, Saints and Souls. We remember and make light of fearful things. We honour those who have brightened the darkness with the light of their presence, and we give thanks for those souls who are no longer with us.

How do we mark and value transitions where there is uncertainty or fear? Some people find this a morbid or morose time. The reality of transition is the loss of what was, and it can suck us down into cycles of depression, lament, and even death.

However transition, for me, suggests that the darkness is not overwhelming or all-consuming. Darkness shifts as we search for light. This is a time to seek the light within the darkness and between the chaos and tragedy of transition.

The words of two Canadian bards best sum this up for me:

Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight. - Bruce Cockburn

There is a crack, a crack in everything;

That’s how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen

I pray each evening to have the Holy One lighten my darkness. I am thankful that the light persists through my actions, and through God’s presence.

David

The Rev’d David Burrows is the Incumbent Priest of the Anglican Parish of Kokanee, encompassing Nelson, Kaslo, and the North Shore.

This writing is a part of his ‘Mountain Reflections'