NOVEMBER’S QUIET PROMISE

Once our Thanksgiving’s celebrations come to an end, most of us turn the page on November.
All eyes focus on December. While we’re still eating leftover turkey sandwiches, outdoor holiday lights are being strung on rooftops. Brightly lit trees are popping up in every window. Crews are busily erecting Menorahs and Nativity scenes on public squares and congregational or synagogue lawns.
Most of us are eager to immerse ourselves in December’s festivities. We’re glad to say good-bye to November – the month that opens the jaws of winter; the month when the time changes and we drive home from work in the dark. Even its name sounds ominous and sad: No-vem-ber.

In his poem, My November Guest, New England poet Robert Frost says of his guest that “she loves the bare, the withered tree . . . she’s glad her simple worsted gray is silver now with clinging mist.” The 19th-century poet Thomas Hood describes November as the month of “NO.”
No sun—no moon!
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—
No sky—no earthly view—
No distance looking blue— . . .
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

The 10th-century Book of Exeter, the oldest book of English literature, includes a saying or maxim that gloomily describes November’s falling leaves. It reads: “A tree on the earth must lose its leaves; the branches mourn. ((Maxims I, 26-7)

If we exclude Thanksgiving’s parades and Halloween’s sugar rush, most of our popular culture’s attitude toward November sounds eerily similar to the opinion expressed in Thomas Hood’s poem. A quick internet search turns up the following: No-Shave November/ No-Excuse November/ No-Spend November/ No Leaves November.

November simply cannot compete with December’s colorful wrapping paper and pretty bows, its candlelight and carols. December’s magic depends upon extravagant feasts for eye and ear, both religious and secular. November, on the other hand, has no such magic. Its energies are subdued, subtle, and quiet. The first snowfall quietly surprises us. Water droplets are transformed into intricate six-pointed crystals that fall onto our mittens and coat sleeves. Newly fallen snow softly blankets the unraked leaf litter and frost-bitten squash plants, transmuting dull brown into purest white. November quietly reminds us that a hidden energy still stirs beneath the freezing soil and bare trees – like the holy child stirring within Mary’s womb. November’s knowledge speaks of a beauty that lies just on the edge of bleakness. November’s gift is to instill in us a confidence that deep within the growing cold a secret warmth is always pulsing.

Christmas proclaims boldly that light and love have overcome the shadows and the cold. But, at least for me, November announces this same truth but in a more subdued way. We have to look beyond November’s dreary days and leafless branches to discern its confident declaration that light triumphs over shadows, even as the earth’s axis is slowly turning away from the sun. November signals quietly to us that beauty and grace are still to be found around the fringes of our desolate, war-torn, and violent world if only we open ourselves to discover them.

November may be a hard month to love; but it offers us a simple truth. May it nonetheless prepare us for December’s journey to Bethlehem where we will celebrate that God’s own creative energies have taken flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. And this. God’s Word, is the light of all people – A light that shines in the darkness; and the darkness cannot overcome it.” (John 1:1-5)

With prayer, Pastor Thomas

Share