Thomas A. Pilgrim

I was only just full-grown when we set out on the journey, but I was strong and eager for adventure. And by the time we returned to our own land after many years, I was older and wiser than my age might have you believe.

Don't get me wrong. I was happy in my home, living in the paddock with my brothers and sisters and the rest of the herd, for we were well looked after. We always had food and water, and the camel master almost never beat us, even when occasionally we'd spit at him, just for fun.

This season, the boundaries of darkness are pushed back. A light shines in the darkness and the darkness is powerless to extinguish it.

Darkness has always been a potent metaphor for those things in life that oppress and enthrall us, frighten and intimidate us, cause us worry and anxiety and leech the joy from our lives.

We know darkness in our physical lives when illness is close at hand, when we lack the basic necessities of life -- food, shelter and clothing.

Early in January in northern Canada the sun peeks above the horizon for the first time after six weeks of hiding. An important dawn for Canada. Imagine how the lives of people in the northern latitudes would be different if they got used to the darkness and never even expected that a dawn would ever lighten their horizon again.

We lived in Florida for a while in the 1980s and it was then that we learned about Tarpon Springs. Not a large city, it has the highest percentage of Greek Americans of any place in the US. This dates back to the 1880s, when Greek immigrants moving into the area were hired as sponge divers, a trade they had plied back in the old country. Today Tarpon Springs' main claim to fame is the Greek Orthodox Church's Epiphany celebration, which is held every January 6, with the blessing of the waters and the boats.

Early January always feels like a fresh start. The Christmas whirlwind has settled down. We still have a fighting chance to keep our resolutions for the new year. Cartoons always depict the New Year as a baby, full of possibilities and innocence. We hope that with a new year we can leave the baggage behind us, stretching toward a brighter future.

Many things are written with all of the excitement of some fresh truth recently received. Other things are written from anger. And there is much these days in any pastorate to make one mad. Still other messages are delivered from depression. I'm convinced that the majority of preachers I know are over the edge into burnout. And what of this particular study? Where am I coming from? Today, I'm writing from a broken heart, a heart shattered by a fallen comrade.

Did you notice that bad things did not stop happening through the holidays? And is any warning necessary that bad things will happen in every season of this year? Surely there is better news than that, but we ought to be honest about the bad news. Not even the holidays generate enough good will to stop people from blowing up airplanes and destroying people's reputations and abusing children and selling drugs to teenagers and gunning down their neighbors.

"So, what's new?" he asked. It happens all the time. You meet someone on the street you have not seen for awhile. "What's new?" "Oh, nothing much, really.

(Myrna and Robert Kysar are the co-authors of "Charting The Course." Myrna is pastor of Christ Lutheran Church [ELCA], Oakwood, Georgia. She holds a Master of Divinity degree from Yale Divinity School and a Doctor of Ministry from Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. She is the co-author with her husband of three books.

These are the longest hours of darkness. Although the winter solstice is passed, the darkness lingers for many more weeks. The season becomes a symbol for the longing of the human spirit to "see the light." It becomes difficult to catch sight of the light, however, when so many shadows lurk at every turn of a corner we make. We claim to be an enlightened people; yet settle for clap-trap on television and spend countless hours absorbing it like a sponge under a dripping faucet. We call athletes heroes for nothing more than being good at what they do.

In many countries, January 6 is a public holiday with parades, parties, and festivities celebrating the visit of the wise men. For some Christian churches, the main celebration of Christ's incarnation occurs on this day. But in the United States, Monday, January 6, 2014, is nothing special in the public sphere. For most of us, this day marks the beginning of our first full week back at work or school after the Christmas and New Year's holidays.