Homily, The Darkness of the Womb
The Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year C, 2024
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Plant City, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
One of my favorite things when LauraAnn was pregnant was waking up each morning and pulling out my phone and opening this pregnancy app which told us how big our baby was. Have you seen one of those apps? Or perhaps your pregnancy was back when you had to open a book. But whatever the case, whether it was your child or a niece or nephew or friend, do you remember how it tells how big the baby is? “Your baby is as big as a blueberry.” And then a few weeks later, “your baby is as big as an apple.” And then a few more weeks later. “Your baby is as big as a coconut.” Oh, I loved reading those messages, and it told you about all the ways they were developing. “This week their ears begin to form.” “This week they begin to grow finger nails.” “This week their eyes begin to open.” It’s really quite incredible that all of that is happening out of sight, hidden in the darkness of the womb.
This morning our gospel reading is about that. It is about pregnancy. About two women, Mary and Elizabeth, who are miraculously carrying within their bodies life. And how in the darkness of their wombs there is a mysterious, creative force shaping and forming two promises that cannot be physically seen. They didn’t have an app. They probably didn’t have a book. But even so, little by little, the babies were being stitched together within their wombs. Within Elizabeth, John, who would prepare the way of the Lord, and within Mary, Jesus, the Savior of the World.
I wonder what is was like to be God in a womb. To feel yourself small and fragile, slowly knit together piece by piece. What must it have been like to be God and the size of a blueberry? The size of an apple? The size of a coconut? What must it have been like to be God the creator and in darkness to find your body slowly being created: cells dividing, heart thumping, lungs breathing—not air—but amniotic fluid. To be entirely dependent upon the sustenance that comes from someone else’s body. To have little feet that don’t touch the dust of the earth and little autonomy for where you are carried in the world? What must it have been like to be God with lips and a voice that no one can hear? What must it have been like to be the Light of the World in the darkness of the womb?
Here in the season of Advent we talk a lot about darkness. And how the light of God scatters the darkness from our path and pierces the night. But not all darkness is evil. Sometimes darkness is the holy place where the hidden actions of God are stitching together new life that will be birthed into the world. Sometimes, darkness is not evil or something to escape. Sometimes, darkness—even when it is uncomfortable—is holy.
I wonder what dark places you have encountered in your life. Where it feels, perhaps, like you’ve lost your purpose or your autonomy. Where it feels like you’re spinning your wheels but getting nowhere. Or you’re not sure of what direction to go in, or what the next step is. Where you have more questions and doubts than you do answers and convictions. Where you’re just not sure what to feel, or what to think, or what to do. And I wonder how many of those dark places are hollow tombs and I wonder how many of those dark places are holy wombs. Holy wombs where out of sight God is slowly stitching you together and preparing you for what is to come.
What must it have been like to be God in the darkness of a womb? And what might we learn from it in our own darkness? Perhaps to be patient; it takes time to be formed. Perhaps to trust; it happens without our help. Perhaps to listen; we might hear the heartbeat of one who loves us.
Darkness may be uncomfortable, but darkness is the place where the little feet of John leaped in Elizabeth’s womb, and the little hands of Jesus were shaped to heal the world.
So if you feel today like you are wrapped in darkness, trust that the same God who was formed in the darkness of Mary’s womb is lovingly forming you too. Amen.
Questions for Personal Reflection
- In what areas of my life do I currently feel like I am in a state of darkness or uncertainty? How can I embrace this time as an opportunity for growth and transformation?
- Reflecting on my past experiences, can I identify moments when I felt lost or directionless, but later recognized them as times of formation? What insights did I gain from those experiences?
- How can I be more attentive to the ways God might be shaping me in this current season? Are there specific actions I can take to nurture my spiritual well-being during this time?
Resources for Further Reflection
Children’s Book: God’s Holy Darkness by Sharei Green, Beckah Selnick, and Nikki Faison
In this beautifully illustrated book, the authors explore some of the moments in Scripture which present darkness as something holy.
Children’s Book: Silent Night by Lara Hawthorne
In this rendition of the famous Christmas hymn, the illustrations are strikingly dark in color and wonderfully moving.
Poetry: Advent Poems by Tania Runyan
In this collection of poems for Advent, Tania Runyan imagines Jesus speaking to his mother from the womb, each poem from another stage of the journey of pregnancy. Much of the imagery of this homily was inspired by Runyan’s poems, which I encountered throughout this season of Advent.
Thoughts on Faith 