I grew up in a family that loved to spend time outdoors. Each summer growing up, I would attend summer camp. I remember there was one camp that I started going to around the time I entered middle school. The first night at camp, we slept in whatever dwellings our groups were assigned to, for some that was accommodations in a refurbished farm buildings, for others it was tents. But for the rest of the nights, provided that the weather was cooperative, we slept under the stars. There’s something awe-inspiring when you’re isolated from what most of us deem “civil society” and its conveniences, and you’re confronted with the immenseness of the night sky before you fall asleep.
When I first heard that we would be sleeping outside, without any sort of tents, I was nervous at first. There was a significant amount of vulnerability involved in this act, being in unfamiliar surroundings, with people I didn’t know, and completely exposed to the elements. However, as the week progressed, I found myself looking forward to the time that I could roll out my sleeping bag and drift off to sleep under the watch of the stars. In the end, it turned out to be one of the most exhilarating parts of my week at camp.
A few months ago, I read Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, and I still find myself mulling over the book from time to time. Not only did I find the subject matter fascinating, but Taylor’s prose were absolutely beautiful. Throughout the book, she wrestles with a common fear that most of us have shared at one time or another: the dark.
The book points out how the church has often demonized the dark and night, by drawing parallels between ungodly people, actions, and beliefs. Whereas, the Trinity is most often associated with light, and objects like the sun. These distinctions are called “lunar spirituality” and “full solar spirituality.”
From my own experience, what Taylor writes about is true. We do tend to dramatize the dark as something evil. What is ironic is that the creation story in Genesis tells us that God created the sun and moon, and separated the day from the night. Darkness is just another park of God’s created order. In fact, we need darkness in order to survive. Not only does darkness help regulate our circadian clocks, but it also prompts us when to rest.
There are also times when a “lunar faith” is healthy for us as well. It is near impossible to sustain a “full solar faith” at all times throughout your life. Not only is it unrealistic, but we are bound to wear ourselves out if we try to stay in the light at all times. At some point, our faith will need to rest, or we will face some trial or tribulation. It is important for us to acknowledge that both of these types of faith are natural, and come in cycles, much like our days and nights. As a community, we need to open ourselves up to expressing this darker side of faith, and foster a healthy dialog for those who are experiencing a dark time.
Melissa Arnston 