In church this past Sunday, we sang a hymn with the lyrics, In him there is no darkness at all, the night and the day are both alike. I have sung these words innumerable times over the years, but this is the first time I was taken aback. As in, I wanted to stop singing and have an argument with somebody.
Side note: I have often tuned out the words recited/sung/preached at church. However, I have been actively trying to pay more attention, as I’ve been exploring my connection to the church and what is important to me. It isn’t that I feel that I have to agree with everything that is said, but I want to be aware so that I can push back when necessary.
In any case … why would perpetual day, constant light, be a good thing? For one, I’d never sleep. When I visited Norway in May of 1999, there were very few hours of full dark. I was sleep-deprived the entire time. And don’t tell me that sleep won’t be necessary in the afterlife*, that’s not a selling point. Sleep is AMAZING y’all.
*That comment was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, not sure what I believe about “afterlife.”
Darkness is necessary for some of the best things in life: stargazing and viewing the Northern Lights (can’t see them in daylight), fireworks on the 4th of July (ask any parent of a kid who is running around with sparklers in full light what it is like trying to wait for it to get dark at 9pm), and all the best backyard games (Hide-and-Seek, Ghosts in the Graveyard, etc.). Also, you know, bedroom stuff. *wiggles eyebrows*
If I examine this from a non-literal angle — which I probably should, since we’re talking about religious writing and imagery — we still can’t be without darkness. I think the real issue here is that society has long associated “darkness” with “badness,” when darkness is simply the inverse of light. Who exactly decided that darkness equalled evil?
There are gobs of intelligent, academic discussions of how lightness equates to whiteness and darkness equates to blackness in our cultural vocabulary. Here is a particularly pithy one, in my opinion. I’m not going to rehash what someone else has said more eloquently, but I will ask you this: why do we fear the dark?
In the light, all is clear. We can see all the angles, there are no shadows or layers or unanswerable questions. Dark is complex, and we dislike complexity. In the dark, there might be aspects we can’t see, but must consider anyway. In the darkness, there are open job positions but also people who are unemployed. In the darkness, there are trans women who are women and trans men who are men, but also athletics that are separated by gender. In the darkness, we must decide between an old, white man who is educated and intelligent and compassionate, and an old white man who is a traitor and a bigot and a liar.
I know that when I am sent wishes of “love and light” in hard times, what is meant is that friends want me to feel surrounded by warmth and energy. I appreciate this imagery, and the compassionate intent behind it, in the same way I appreciate people offering prayers. It comes down to people keeping me in their minds and hearts during challenging times.
I also value those who present the image of “sitting in the dark” with me. Darkness is representative of work, of preparation, of hibernation. Winter, between the solstices, is time for humans and animals alike to hunker down, insulate ourselves with food, and sleep as much as we can. Caterpillars wrap themselves in darkness to do the work of transforming themselves into butterflies. Light is one of the last aspects added to a theater production — the actors have rehearsed and memorized lines, costumes and sets have been built, and only THEN do stage lights illuminate the work of art.
I don’t think it is a coincidence that “light” is also the inverse of “heavy,” another word we associate with negativity. We talk about weight on our shoulders, on our minds, literally on our bodies. However, a weighted blanket can calm us down, and lifting weights make us strong. Perspective is so vital.
We need shelter to retreat from exposure. We need rest to prepare for rebirth. We need the dark to balance the light. Dark is not inherently bad, light is not inherently good. It is unhelpful, and probably harmful, for us to continue suggesting otherwise through our words and actions, through our art and media.
Now please excuse me as I sit next to my sleeping husband in the darkness of our room, drinking a glass of wine and playing Solitaire on my phone as I listen to an audiobook. It is the most peaceful time of my day, and I treasure it.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Susie
P.S. Here is a bonus.
Hhmm. Metaphysical darkness is a bugger...is all I can say about this essay. Now I'm not sure I can use my sermon for this weekend. Thanks for that. :)
This is my favorite essay of yours yet, Susie.