A Candle In the Dark

 “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” (Isaiah 40: 1)

Saying “Happy Holidays” out of respect to the many religious traditions that exist in the United States makes some people’s blood boil: “How dare they cancel Christmas!” they exclaim. I wonder how these same individuals feel now that religious leaders in Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Galilee, and Jordan have “canceled” Christmas, stating that this year is not the time for festive celebrations when so many are suffering from the Israeli-Hamas war?

Real life has collided with our often saccharin and sanitized view of Christmas. We want to believe that this really is “the most wonderful time of the year.” That the angels’ song of “Peace on earth goodwill to all” is more than a wish. That children sleep sweetly in a “silent night”, uninterrupted by bombs or gunfire.

But there is no peace in Palestine this Christmas. In the fighting between Israel and Hamas, the number of women and children killed is shocking (the current death toll notes 1,200 Israelis and 17,177 Palestinians). Most of Gaza’s 2.3 million people are now homeless, trapped in the small region with little food, water, medical care, or shelter. This is a major humanitarian crisis.

There is no peace in Bethlehem this year.

Many religious organizations are encouraging those of us living around the world to join in solidarity with Palestinian Christians and forgo the usual festivities of the season. The General Board of Global Ministries of The United Methodist Church has encouraged churches to keep the second Advent candle (known as the Peace, or Bethlehem candle) to remain unlit, as a way for us to keep before us as well as in our hearts and prayers the suffering of those in the midst of war.

I admit I have struggled with this: the Advent wreath is a sign of hopeful waiting. It seems to me that at a time like this, we need to keep the light of Peace burning bright, calling us to seek peace in all actions, times, and places.

But to have the light unlit in the Advent wreath all Advent and into Christmas is a jarring reminder that there is no peace. It is a weekly reminder that millions are suffering from war and violence. Their cries echo silently around the sanctuary.

Rev. Sandy Olewine served for 10 years in the Holy Land. She shared this poem that moved me deeply:

 

As you prepare your breakfast, think of others

(do not forget the pigeon’s food).

As you conduct your wars, think of others

(do not forget those who seek peace).

As you pay your water bill, think of others

(those who are nursed by clouds).

As you return home, to your home, think of others

(do not forget the people of the camps).

As you sleep and count the stars, think of others

(those who have nowhere to sleep).

As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others

(those who have lost the right to speak).

As you think of others far away, think of yourself

(say: “If only I were a candle in the dark”).

— Mahmoud Darwish

 

May we each be a candle in the dark.