Early this morning, when the neighborhood lay asleep and dawn was another two hours away, I dropped a black cigarette lighter on the driveway of the house where I am staying. The darkness and the gray pavement hid the lighter from sight. I ran the toe of one shoe across the pavement, feeling for the lighter, but no luck.
I stood there another minute or two, enjoying the sight of the stars among the clouds in the sky and the crowing of the rooster from a neighbor’s yard, and then looked to the pavement again and spotted the lighter. Another pair of eyes younger and keener than mine might have detected it earlier, but there it was, discernable in outline, visible now because my night vision had kicked in.
I stood there another minute or two, enjoying the sight of the stars among the clouds in the sky and the crowing of the rooster from a neighbor’s yard, and then looked to the pavement again and spotted the lighter. Another pair of eyes younger and keener than mine might have detected it earlier, but there it was, discernable in outline, visible now because my night vision had kicked in.
Soldiers, sailors, hunters, and others are aware of night vision, the ability to see better in the darkness once some time away from light has lapsed. When first coming onto guard duty at midnight, for instance, a private sees that tree line across the cornfield as a black curtain, but as his eyes adjust to the darkness, individual trees and thickets stand out in greater detail. To stand for a time in darkness allows him, and most of us, to see better in that darkness. As our sight sharpens, we slowly discern shapes and objects previously hidden from our sight.
Tonight for some of us is the night when a tiny light illuminated the darkness of the world. Two millennia ago, a few people—some shepherds, three Magi, and a handful of others—had the vision to see into the darkness and find that light.
To discern that light today requires that same vision. All the preparations—the decorating, the buying and wrapping of gifts, the parties, the special feasts with our family—can, like the night, obscure what we are celebrating: the Light that came into the world. The candles we light in our homes and churches on this night represent that Light, flickering beacons of hope shining in the darkness of a broken world.
On this special night, I hope to possess the wherewithal to be as watchful as that solitary private standing midnight guard, to have my night vision, to see and apprehend what the darkness conceals.
Here is wishing all readers and their families, and all my family and friends, a Merry and Blessed Christmas and Christmastide.
Tonight for some of us is the night when a tiny light illuminated the darkness of the world. Two millennia ago, a few people—some shepherds, three Magi, and a handful of others—had the vision to see into the darkness and find that light.
To discern that light today requires that same vision. All the preparations—the decorating, the buying and wrapping of gifts, the parties, the special feasts with our family—can, like the night, obscure what we are celebrating: the Light that came into the world. The candles we light in our homes and churches on this night represent that Light, flickering beacons of hope shining in the darkness of a broken world.
On this special night, I hope to possess the wherewithal to be as watchful as that solitary private standing midnight guard, to have my night vision, to see and apprehend what the darkness conceals.
Here is wishing all readers and their families, and all my family and friends, a Merry and Blessed Christmas and Christmastide.