I was hoping to offer you charming pictures of snow-covered Boston, but alas, it is just as warm here as it is in Berkeley.
There is no snow.
But there is still beautiful sky. So I will offer you that instead.
And there is time to relax and soak in the goodness of rest. I am so grateful to be in the warm company of family for a week.
A few days ago, we passed the winter solstice, which means the darkness is receding now.
How deep and powerful that solstice shift is in the midst of Advent, when we practice waiting for the light.
On the evening of the longest night of the year, I went for a run along the Charles River in the gathering dark. I thought about how the light will seep so slowly back into the world over the next few months… so gradually it will be hard to notice.
But the nights will be shortening faithfully, steadily, as the sun regains its summer strength.
I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever;
with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.
I declare that your steadfast love is established forever;
your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.
We, the people who wait, the sheep of God’s pasture, can neither hurry nor hinder the coming of the light. We can simply trust that the heavens will take their course and that the light will return in its time.
And that is the measure of God’s faithfulness — inexorable and everlasting. We can neither hurry nor hinder God’s loving mercy: it is there always, consistent as the lengthening and shortening of days.