The Journey From Darkness to Light
Rev. Tim Temerson
UU Church of Akron
March 31, 2013
This past Thursday evening, we held what’s called a Tenebrae service here in the sanctuary. I led the service with members of our UUCA Christian Fellowship and our Music Director, Bob Carlyon. I want to thank Bob and the Christian Fellowship for their creativity and commitment in bringing this extraordinary spiritual experience to our community.
For those who may be unfamiliar with the term, Tenebrae is a Latin word meaning darkness or shadow and the purpose of a Tenebrae service is to prepare oneself for the hope and the joy of Easter by acknowledging and experiencing the darkness and despair of the events leading up to it, in this case the story of Jesus of Nazareth’s suffering and death.
Our Tenebrae service began in silence and in near darkness, with minimal lighting and only a few candles burning. As we recounted the story of Jesus suffering and death through readings and music, the candles were extinguished one-by-one until the entire sanctuary was filled with darkness. After a time of silence and prayer, a few lights were turned back and we shared a brief ritual of communion. The service ended as it began, in silence.
As I listened to the story and experienced the darkness of the service, I found myself remembering some of the darkness and the shadows in my life. I remembered moments of pain and brokenness - moments in which I found it so very difficult to have hope or to believe that I would ever find a pathway out of the darkness.
But as I experienced the darkness of the Tenebrae service and remembered those dark moments of my own life, I was also reminded of the rest of the story – of how the darkness and despair Jesus disciples and followers experienced after his death was transformed into the hope and the joy of Easter morning and how, in my own life, darkness and despair have slowly and often times painfully been transformed into light and hope.
In his meditation on the glad surprise, Howard Thurman reminds us of both the beauty and the hardship of the Easter story. Easter, according to Thurman, is the announcement that life cannot ultimately be conquered by death, that there is no road that is at last swallowed up in ultimate darkness, and that life is bottomed, is grounded, in the glad surprise.
But the pathway leading to light and life is often paved with hardship and struggle. As Thurman points out, the glad surprise comes at the end of a long tunnel of tragedy and tribulation – a tunnel in which we can find ourselves stumbling and falling in the dark. But, as Thurman reminds us, in the midst of our stumbling and our falling, we can somehow find our way to the bottom step of a stairway leading out of darkness and towards the glad surprise.
I must say that Thurman’s image of a bottom step really resonates for me. In those times when I’ve struggled with darkness and despair, when I’ve found myself stumbling and falling in that tunnel, that bottom step has found its way into my life. Sometimes it appears suddenly and unexpectedly while at others it seems to emerge so very slowly. But it’s there, offering me hope and a path to the glad surprise.
But there was one particular moment in my own journey – a moment of such darkness and despair that I never thought I’d find my way out. But I did and I’d like to take a few minutes to share that story with you because I think it points to the power of love to heal that which is broken and to bring life even in the midst of death.
This story begins many years ago, during my childhood. I was an only child raised by a single parent, in this case, by my mother. My mom’s name was Mary and for most of my childhood, it was just Mary and Tim, or Timmy as I was known in those days.
My mom and I had a very close relationship. We shared many good times, taking memorable trips together, eating meals at our favorite Italian restaurant, and just having a lot of fun. My Mom and I were close and loved one another very, very much.
Of course, like all relationships, ours had its ups and downs. My mom suffered from depression and struggled with addictions. Her struggles often led to wild and unpredictable emotional swings that were unsettling and hurtful for both of us.
Around the time she turned sixty, long after I was married and had children, my mom’s health began to decline. As she grew sicker, her depression worsened. She often refused to take her medication, to stay on her diet, or even to get out of bed.
Then one day, on one terrible and painful day, my mom attempted to take her own life. I found her unconscious on the floor of her apartment. Fortunately, the paramedics got her to the hospital in time and she survived.
I cannot begin describe how painful my mom’s suicide attempt was. I felt so angry, so betrayed, so guilty. I remember saying to myself over and over again - How could she have done this and how could I have not seen it coming and been able to prevent it?
After my mom’s suicide attempt, our relationship grew more and more distant, more and more strained. I couldn’t get past my anger and my guilt and she never regained her will to live. My mom simply seemed to give up on life and I found it hard not to give up on her.
Then the moment came when my mom’s health took a final turn for the worse. Sitting by her bedside on the day before she died, I didn’t know what to do or what to say. Our relationship had become so strained, strained by her depression and her resignation, and strained by my anger and my frustration.
As I sat with my mom, still feeling both angry and sad, something unexpected began to happen to me. Gradually, my anger and frustration began to melt away and I began to see my mom through different eyes. Rather than seeing the person who had angered and disappointed me, I found myself sitting beside the parent who loved and cared for me. Moments and feelings I hadn’t thought about in years came flooding back. I began to remember the good times, like those memorable vacations and meals we had shared together. I also remembered those things about my mom’s life that filled me with pride, like her passion for social justice and her work as a high school social studies teacher who had done so much to promote racial tolerance and understanding among her students.
I will never forget what happened in that moment. As I began speaking aloud about those memories and told my mom how proud I was of her and how much I loved her, she opened her eyes, looked at me, and simply said, “thank you and I love you too.”
The moment my mom thanked me was a moment of healing, of grace, and of resurrection. It was truly a glad surprise. As I remembered the happy moments and the joys of our life together, I could feel our spirits becoming one and our relationship being healed. For many months, our love had been trapped in a tomb – a tomb of anger and darkness – a tomb in which no light could enter because a large stone had been rolled in front of it. But in that incredible moment, a moment of healing and resurrection that I will never forget, the love my mom and I felt for one another rolled away that stone and walked out of that tomb.
To this day I still don’t know how my mom and I found our way to to healing in the midst of so much darkness. And maybe how or why it happened isn’t as important as the fact that we found our way out of the darkness. But one thing does seem clear. In the midst of the darkness and despair of a relationship that was trapped in a tomb, love proved to be stronger – stronger than my anger, stronger than my mom’s depression – stronger even than death itself.
And that, for me, is the true meaning of Easter. Darkness, despair, and death are part of life and always will be. And there are no easy answers, no easy pathways to healing and hope. But in the midst of our brokenness and our sorrow, there is love and there is light. May they shine brightly and point our lives and the world in directions of healing, wholeness, and peace.
Blessed Be and Happy Easter