O everlasting God, you are the one who knows hidden things, who knows all things before their genesis. – Susanna 31:42 (as translated in A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church: Year W)
One of the more terrifying aspects of the dark is just how disorienting it is. In complete darkness—if we’re sighted—even our own hands are beyond our perception. Darkness also presents directional challenges; without a light source, we have no idea where to go.
We can experience states of spiritual disorientation, too. Often, though not exclusively, sparked by the incredibly difficult moments of our lives, it can feel like our prayers reach out to a darkened void.
Here in the northern hemisphere, these longest of December nights put a cosmic rhythm to this spiritual state. When we cannot see where to go on these long nights, our cries to God become all the more urgent. We need our orientation. We need our Star of Bethlehem.
Susanna was in a moment of darkness. Everywhere she turned, she faced an unthinkable void.
Bereft and betrayed, Susanna made her final appeal. This was it: life or death. And in that moment, she cried out to the God who “knows hidden things.”
Our God sees in the dark. Genesis happens in the dark.
When I am in the dark: I give it a hug. I open my arms and let the darkness respond to my other senses. When I can’t see, I feel instead.
Prayer
How resplendent it is to experience reliable embrace. I come to you, O Genesis, I come.
