May I just say that I want to focus on the light...

May I just say that I want to focus on the light, not the darkness. It’s not easy.

As nearly as I can tell, we’re living in a new and unexpected round of Dark Ages. Science is distrusted. Myth has taken the place of knowledge. Lies are sold as truth, and brutalities are seen as patriotism. Accountability on the part of the kings and princes doesn’t exist. It’s all darkness. As Robert Hubbell says, those who’ve claimed the White House throne and the power to use it know only “one set of guiding principles: unbridled narcissism, greed, vengeance, deceit, and cruelty.” Darkness.

I’m not helped by tuning in to either traditional media or social media. Both sources are filled with reports of outrageous violations of common decency and constitutional democracy. Stories on hope? If they exist, they’re buried under stories of immigrant torture, unjustified arrests and the order to kill survivors of our own military attacks. I do not know this “America.”

But maybe I’m just lazy, accustomed to having someone else sort through the shadows and darkness, handing me a ready-to-swallow report on what’s true and what’s not. I now know that what’s true is bad enough: the slaughter of children by cutting USAID funds, the desecration of the White House and all it has represented, the relentless attacks on anyone who has ever crossed der Fuhrer. The uncertainty about what’s true and what isn’t makes the darkness even darker. The Australian beach runs with the blood of innocents. Rumors of the hatred that fueled the shooters leave us wondering. Every headline makes us ask, “Is it true?”

But it’s Hanukkah. It’s a time to light candles remembering that the darkness does not always overcome. Indeed, one lesson of this holiday is that we need to keep our eyes on the unfading light. But how do we do that when the darkness is so mean, so outrageous, so tragic?

What I’ve come to appreciate most is that it takes only a tiny bit of light to make the darkness recoil. A massive cloud of darkness scurries off at the slightest hint of light.

And it all happens now, as we’re venturing into the winter solstice, the longest and darkest days of the year. What will carry us through to the other side where days become longer and hope returns? Where do we find the little lights that can defeat the huge cloud of darkness?

For me, the little lights are no strangers to my days, if I’m willing to see them. A granddaughter’s hug; that’ll light my world for a week. A message from a friend I’ve not seen this year; she’s such a lovely light. Someone says they’re grateful. A reader says I’ve helped them. I take a nap. Chocolates arrived, or flowers, telling me I’m loved. I stand by a window and see the blue sky or the sliver of a moon. I take a breath, inhaling deeply, or I take a walk, moving slowly enough to see that there really is green grass.

When I look away from the great big darkness and keep my eyes on the light, to my amazement, the darkness begins to fade. The horrors that fill the darkness are held at bay. I need only keep my eyes on the light, the tiny lights, and I will be filled.

In fact, the miracle of the light is that it takes so little, a small fraction of the darkness all around me. A percent or two is enough. If I find it, accept it, really see  it – I’m on my way to locking in on the light.

Come join me. Blink once, then twice, and when you open your eyes keep them focused on the light. It’s enough to sustain us until the days begin to lengthen once more and the scourge of darkness is disciplined by grace.