This is the time of year when it feels as if it is the absolute darkest in the natural world and yes, sometimes in the human world too. Even though winter solstice was two weeks ago, the 24 hour period in this part of the world that is longest night of the year, still, right now just seems to feel darker somehow, at least for me. Maybe you too.
The holidays are fully ended and as we pack up the lights and take down the tree, as we put away the wrapping paper and the greeting cards and the menorah and the nativity set, it’s kind of like we say to winter, “Ok. You are absolutely here, and right now. No more celebratory December distractions. It’s cold. It’s dark.”
But then there are the stars, the amazing, miraculous, blazing January stars. These seem to twinkle more brightly right now. We stop on a long walk in the woods just past dusk, or we stand in the driveway after getting home from work, feet crunching the snow or we gaze out the window after we’ve put the lights out for bed and then we look out and we look up and….
STARS!
Scores of stars on a frigid evening, dotting the heavens, twinkling and set like diamonds in an ink black winter sky. A sky that that looks so sharp and clear, it takes our breath away. A January sky somehow that embodies the chill and shadows of this sometimes bleak “what’s next?” time of year. The calendar can feel oh so empty. Loved ones have returned home. And though many love this time of year for its outdoor pastimes, so many of us might instead feel tempted to just curl up in a ball under the blanket on the couch and declare….
“Wake me up when it’s spring!”
The world feels shadow filled and cold right now too. As if two wars weren’t enough, now Creation’s got a third in Venezuela. Just three days ago, millions of people saw their health insurance premiums, once subsidized by Uncle Sam, wither away like melting snow. Food benefits too. To heat the house or to feed the family?
If I had to assign a temperature to the last year in our civic and national political life, I’d say it’s been unmerciful and bone chilling, especially for the poor, and so much of this chill is courtesy of our bullying, bombastic, ice cold commander in chief. The command by Jesus that we are to care for these, the least of our brothers and sisters, seems to have been forgotten by many of my fellow “religious” folk. For that I am sorry. But still, 2026 beckons.
It is here and we must carry on.
We must continue in faith to look for the stars and yes, especially in the depths of winter. In a way it is so much easier to live within the promise of spring or the warmth of summer. It takes courage to push back against the winter cold and to push back against winters of our discontent and yet, this is where many of us find ourselves.
So how to live?
The only path and life I see is to carry on with courage. Godly courage. Gritty courage. Surprising courage. Personal courage. Communal courage. Prayerful courage, remembering the words of one wise soul, Dorothy Bernanrd, who said that courage is finally just fear that has said tis prayers.
So, just as the stars shine so brightly right now, so too must people of goodwill and people with good hearts shine as well. Pray without ceasing and act for the good without ceasing. We need some light and we need some illumination and we need to be the people who have the guts to light that one candle instead of cursing the darkness.
Williams is right in her poetic courage, and especially in January as the stars come out bright and bold. Look up into heavens and remember and trust…
“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
Courage, my friends. Courage to see the stars.
(The views expressed in this essay do not necessarily reflect the views of the people and church I serve nor the United Church of Christ.)
The Reverend John F. Hudson is Senior Pastor of the Pilgrim Church, United Church of Christ, in Sherborn, Massachusetts (pilgrimsherborn.org). He blogs at sherbornpastor.blogspot.com and is a resident scholar at the Collegeville Institute at Saint John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota. For twenty-five years he was a columnist whose essays appeared in newspapers throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He has served churches in New England since 1989. For comments, please be in touch: pastorjohn@pilgrimsherborn.org.
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