At the grave side of his brother, the agnostic Robert Ingersoll, said, In the darkest night hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing. After twenty-four Sundays of summer and fall light with out lovely tapestry hangings, we can see a dramatic change in the church. By simply using our eyes, we can see something has changed. The colors are somber because Advent is a season of preparation. It s the kind of preparation many of us have experienced in our lives that include a kind of quiet waiting and watching that is often accompanied by a certain amount of uneasiness.
Love creates that kind of preparation.
You know what an ordeal she is going through, you re convinced everything will be fine and the baby will be healthy, but there is that uneasiness that will not be satisfied until you see the doctor coming with a smile on his face. Our Gospel today is not about the birth of babies. It s not even about the birth of Jesus. It describes the second coming with the light splitting the darkness of a worn out creation. This passage is so dark, we must somehow look deep into it to see the stars.