Cathy Zeek 

Around the summer solstice, I visited coastal Maine. I’d heard that sunrise was a must-see event, so very early one morning I found a spot on the shore with an unobstructed view to the east. It was dark, and even in the midst of a heat wave, the air was cool when the spectacle began very low on the horizon: a tentative glow that rapidly grew and strengthened. Suddenly the sun was fully up, a huge, brilliant orb illuminating the waves and the rocky shore and the few of us watching.

Thinking about today’s scripture, I recalled that summer morning when the light transformed a dark, silent seascape into a vibrant space filled with movement and life. The moment that filled me with joy and awe was a very simple, literal image of John’s message.

John’s gospel opens in the beginning, when the world was unformed and covered in darkness. Even then, the Word, Logos, the principle of reason and order, Jesus, existed with God. All creation, all life itself, came into being through the Word. And the light of the world shines, even in the darkness. Today’s solstice marks the year’s longest night, which can seem pretty overwhelming. And the pain that comes from human greed and cruelty and indifference can add to the gloom. But God steps into our world with the extravagant promise of Advent: God so loves the world that he sends Jesus to us, the true light that overcomes the darkness, the promised new beginning.