A pastoral word for Thanksgiving and Advent
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness, a light has dawned.
Isaiah 9:2
Beloved,
It seems surreal that we are nearing the end of November. We’ve already fallen back, raked our leaves and begun to pull the sweaters and overcoats out of storage. That means we’re preparing for the holidays. And as we pause for Thanksgiving, I pray that each of you experiences moments of true and authentic gratitude. Gratitude not rooted in ease or abundance alone, but in the enduring presence of God who walks with us in every circumstance.
And for many, the circumstances this year are myriad and stark. In numbers we haven’t seen in recent years, many are navigating economic uncertainty as daily costs continue to escalate and employment is precarious. Others are troubled by the deep fractures in our political landscape. And still others are navigating the grief of death or serious illness. Families are stretched, congregations are discerning their futures, and far too many of our neighbors, whether they are immigrants seeking safety, children going to bed hungry, or elders choosing between food and medicine, are longing for relief.
It is precisely here, at the intersection of gratitude and longing, that Advent meets us.
Advent, which means coming, is the season in which the Church leans forward in holy expectation of the One who has come and is coming. We do not deny the shadows around us; rather, we hold a candle to them. As Bishop Desmon Tutu reminds us, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness.” And some of us right now may find ourselves squinting in search of light. But as people of faith, we watch, we wait, and we witness to the One who enters the world piercing the darkness. As United Methodists, we mark these weeks with a sacred progression of light through the prisms of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Each Sunday adds another flame, another reminder that the Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.
We begin with Hope, not optimism for its own sake, but the defiant spiritual conviction that God is still moving, still redeeming, still calling the Church to be a beacon for those who feel unseen or forgotten. We move toward Peace, longing for God’s shalom to break into a world weary of violence and division and praying that we may become instruments of that peace in our communities. We celebrate Joy, a joy that refuses to be extinguished by scarcity, rhetoric, or fear, because it is rooted in the nearness of Emmanuel, God with us.
We culminate in Love, that love which stretches beyond borders, bias, and barriers, compelling us to welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, and offer compassion without condition. And finally, on Christmas Eve, we light the Christ Candle, proclaiming that the long-awaited One has indeed come, and is still coming, into every place where suffering and hope meet.
And yet, even with all this talk of light, we may still question our own. Does my small light make a difference when the darkness seems so vast? A simple moment in my own home reminded me of the power of a single flame. During one of the intense storms we had during the summer, we lost power. Typically they don’t last long, but on this occasion, we found ourselves without power for quite some time. As the sun set, we knew we needed to find alternative sources of light. Not knowing exactly where the flashlights were, we lit a candle. That one candle illuminated the entire room. We were able to dispel the darkness, navigate without stumbling and walk without fear.
My beloved clergy and laity of the Baltimore-Washington and Peninsula-Delaware Area: Each and every light makes a tremendous difference. Individually we dispel darkness, and collectively we create beacons of light and hope. We who are followers of Christ must muster the courage and the will to be the light. As Howard Thurman so rightly taught, “Your light becomes darkness when you lack the courage and the will to do what you know to be right.” As the world grows colder and more complex, we are called to offer the warmth of love and shine with greater clarity. Let us embody the promise of Advent by continuing to show up for one another with generosity. Let us continue advocating for those pushed to the margins. Let us continue transforming our congregations into centers of spiritual vitality, justice, and compassion. Let us continue praying for and with another, emboldened by God’s dunamis power.
May your Advent be filled with holy expectation as we watch for the Light that is already on its way.
Blessings and peace,
Bishop LaTrelle Miller Easterling