Shadows of the Night

“O come, O Bright and Morning Star, and bring us comfort from afar! Dispel the shadows of the night and turn our darkness into light.” – O Come, O Come Emmanuel, translated by J.M. Neale, 1851.

The first Sunday of Advent brings back early memories of attending church with my family. The familiar advent wreath with candles lit each week were a countdown to Christmas, anticipatory then for reasons much different than now – writing letters to Santa, time off school, Christmas morning revalations under the tree. While my early focus was clearly secular, I did begin to fall in love with the music of the season.

Every first week of Advent, we sang O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Its melody and lyrics stood out for their somberness and longing. Israel as captive? Mourning in exile? Not your typical festive hymn.

My son was born in September. That winter, in a cozy apartment late at night, I would listen to music from Kings College and other choirs, rocking him in the warm glow of a tiny Christmas tree, in a cocoon created by the music of treasured songs. It was a time of rest and peace no matter the frenzy of the day.

With this song especially, I sat for a few moments with its plaintiveness, and I still do every season. Its meaning is different now. I understand mourning and longing in a way I could not as a child. I’m coming to understand the comfort that is inherently there, even in dark, shadowy night, when anxiety and fear tend to come calling.

It helps greatly to think that this promise, this comfort and protection, all meet us where we are, even (especially) in grief. Grief isolates, loss unmoors and sets us adrift. The words of this hymn offer wisdom and knowledge as a path, victory over the grave, light in the dark.

How could I not be drawn to its promise of a heavenly home, one I imagine as a reuniting of those we’ve loved, called by the one from which love originates? There is hope in these verses, there is hope in a season of waiting. Maybe this is why I tend to come back to the glow created by soft lights late at night, even (especially) as I wait.

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