Advent 1A (Matthew 24:36-44)

​There are many interpretations of Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do not go gentle into that good night.” (Yes, that Dylan whom Bob Zimmerman so admired that he changed his name to Dylan!) Some say it’s a lament for the poet’s dying father; others see it as a universal meditation on how we are to face mortality—urging us not to accept death passively but to resist it fiercely, to live with vitality and presence until the very end.

Do not go gentle into that good night – Dylan Thomas (1914 –1953)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I share this poem in the context of Advent, as Jesus calls us to keep awake—to resist the dying of the light, to stay vigilant against that “good night.” Pay attention to the very entrance of your breath as it moves in and out. Attend to the movement of the Spirit. Remain awake to holiness hidden in the ordinary, and rage against complacency. Do not let a single breath pass unnoticed. Watch. Keep alert. Stay awake. Be ardent. For that breath is the wind in which Christ draws near. We do not know when he will arrive—only that his coming stirs the air around us, drawing closer, nearer, until it reaches the very soul within.