Revd Chris McDermott, Lead Chaplain for the University of Sussex

In the closing months and weeks of the year, a number of holidays take place in close succession; Diwali, the Hindu festival of light; Bodhi Day (8^th December) celebrated by some Buddhists as a day to mark the enlightenment of the Buddha; Chanukah, a Jewish holiday, also known as a festival of light and includes the theme of liberation marking the cleansing and re-dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem after its desecration under the tyranny of Antiochus IV Epiphanes; and the feast of Christmas, marking the birth of Christ and like the aforementioned holidays, lays stress on the theme of light in darkness.

As the days grow shorter and darkness lingers these occasions bear the welcome note of light and hope. At the end of a year that has held much darkness for many, also exacerbated by anxieties stirred by different political discourses and toxic energy around the globe, we welcome the note of light and peace sounded by different faith traditions. And, of course, one hopes that the recent development and plans to distribute a vaccine against Covid 19 is a kind of light at the end of a long tunnel for many.

Whatever your particular beliefs that inform your observances – or lack thereof – for this holiday season of light, I trust that you will find some measure of peace and respite from what has been a challenging year. Sadly, for me, the year has been capped by news of the unexpected death of a dear friend, Emeritus Professor Peter Abbs.

Peter had been a regular at our meditation sessions over the years and an accomplished poet who was writing up to the end - you will find his collections of poetry and other writing available in bookshops. Peter’s poetry often captured something of doubt and an ambivalence around matters of faith.

But somehow an optimism, accompanied by ambiguity, shone through his verse. To mark this season of light and hope - and to honour my friend’s memory - I finish with one of Peter’s poems. As is often the case with his poetry, this one carries the atmospherics of the Greek Islands, where he frequently spent extended periods:

IRRESOLUTION

This morning, almost in spite of myself,

hearing church bells riding

the Meltemi,

I wondered for how many centuries the chimes

had enchanted this place,

christened the land,

and hearing the plainchant between gusts of wind

I felt time become timeless:

hypnotic priests

intoning their triune God, for hours and hours,

with prolonged Amens

and longer silences:

the island’s olives and pines, white-washed walls

and dark blue blinds threaded

with the purple syntax

of perpetual psalms and, for one moment, I who doubt

the power of prayer, half yielded

to an ancient scale,

breathed in the baptised air, half whispered Lord,

half on my knees,

half ashamed.