by Joann Neuroth
My meeting has had an extended wrestling period in which we’ve explored our use of the powerful Light metaphor that has meant so much to Quakers. A beloved Friend of Color among us shared his distress at terms such as “blacklist,” “blackball,” and “blackmail,” which deepen our association of white as good and black as bad and thus cause racial wounding. Someone offered me the searing image of a young, black child asking innocently and urgently, “Can I ever be good?” It’s enough to spur real efforts on my part to learn synonyms and break habits.
Using “Light” as a synonym for Spirit could do much the same thing; but many among us have mystical experiences with Light that shouldn’t be banned from worship and messages. The Meeting has written an Advice to each other which advocates thoughtful, careful use of Light language: resisting using it as one side of a dichotomy, saving it for use as a metaphor for insight, illumination, connection, healing, piercing and surrounding, or Presence… for “showing and discovering.” And … we urged ourselves … let us look for and share ways to celebrate Darkness with equal reverence and appreciation at the same time.
A huge step forward in this capacity has come recently for me as I’ve been introduced to a celebration of the “Seven Sacred Pauses” that constitute the church’s daily offices: Matins, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline. Velma Frye in her album “Seven Sacred Pauses” has set to chant the poems and reflections of Macrina Wiederkehr (1939-2020), whose 2010 book, Seven Sacred Pauses begins in the dark of Matins and walks through dawn, morning, noon, afternoon, twilight before returning to the blessing of darkness. Many of them speak to my soul; I tried to get my Apple alarm to wake me with “O Living Breath of God” (to no avail). In fact there are several that reframe darkness as holy: “Sacred Darkness” and “Keeping Vigil With The Holy.” And I’m enjoying greeting the morning by “setting the clock of my heart” and closing the day by “clothing myself in twilight” as well.
But for me, the gem at the center of this discovery is the chant, “O Beautiful Darkness.” With a slow pace and deliberate cadence that evokes waiting patiently in darkness, the chant enumerates some of the wondrous ways that darkness works in us: enfolding, holding, informing, transforming… “holding our light” as the sky does a star. It sparks my own list of other gifts darkness can offer: germinating, incubating, whispering, waiting, stilling, teaching trust. I’m looking forward to spending holy time in the darkness (after retiring, before arising) with some of these melodies encouraging me to linger appreciatively there. . . not flinching away or reflexively turning on a light. And perhaps to sharing some of my discoveries from darkness in Meeting for Worship if messages come.
Check out Velma Frye’s chant, “O Beautiful Darkness” here.
Thank you, Joann, for sharing Macrina Wiederkehr’s book, Seven Sacred Pauses, and Velma Frye’s chanted versions of some of Macrina’s prayers. I sense that these may open some doors for me.
Delighted to become a fellow “fan” with you. To quote her Oh Living Breath of God: “Open the windows of our souls. Open the walls of our minds. Open the doors of our hearts.” May it be so!
Thank you Joann. I had a similar experience when I was teaching. Two young men questioned my use of “dark” and “darkness” as negative qualities. This usage just reinforces racism, they told me, and I had to admit they were right. It took “Participating in God’s Power” to help me learn that darkness/light, crucifixion/resurrection are one. Important lesson for me, in the ways you describe.
How great that your two students felt able to call it to your attention, Julia! They intuited (or you’d agreed) that you’d set aside defensiveness and matter-of-factly consider a correction. That’s how we learn!
Welcome to the clock of the Heart! Grateful for your continuing faithfulness and your Meeting’s discernment. A much-loved late Friend in New England used the word Mist as his language, the Holy Mist, related, in part to Mystery and the place of unknowing and yet, believing.
Yup. “Raise high the chalice of your life. Taste the joy — the joy of being awake!” I love these chants!