It always amazes me that so much that happened in our scriptures, happened in the dark.
God’s brooding over the earth as creation unfolded, happened in the dark.
Half of the desert wandering, happened in the dark.
The Temple’s Holy of Holies, existed in the dark.
The annunciation of Mary, happened in the dark.
The birth and visitation of shepherds, happened in the dark.
The transfiguration and John’s version -the rising of Lazarus – happened in the dark.
The doubts and struggles of Gethsemene, happened in the dark.
The iconic betrayal, happened in the dark.
The last supper of friends, in a secret room, happened in the dark.
The death of Jesus on the cross, happened, suddenly, in the dark.
The emergence from the resurrection tomb, happened in the dark.
The resurrection meal, Jesus hosted on the beach, happened in the morning’s dark.
I also find it interesting that we chose Sunday as the day we would gather for worship. The Sun has always been an object of deep veneration on a planet which would die in seconds without it. We like light because we can see by it and so feel safe. In darkness our amygdala- that kidney bean sized thing in our brain, left over from reptile days – our amygdala fires like a summer sparkler – terrified that something in the darkness will eat us.
And yet, when I gather my closest friends for a dinner in my garden at night and let the candles and the wine melt away in the hours of laughing and crying, meeting and loving, hoping and longing together, I can see why Jesus wanted that last supper. The theologies of the centuries, penned by pasty, pale celibates melts away to reveal friends connecting and telling the story of a humble, kind man in whom God came to be among us.