S.A.D. Lights and Advent Candles: What is the purpose of religion?

I occasionally suffer from situational depression, and it is called life. In its simplest clinical terms, situational depression is a form of deep sadness that often follows a traumatic life event such as the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a divorce, a move, etc. The symptoms can be similar in severity to clinical depression and last for months depending on how the suffering person perceives the trigger event. This form of depression can be very serious, and what is especially unnerving is that it is so common.

Defined by these terms, it is fair to say that we probably all have suffered or will suffer from situational depression at some point. Why? Well, let’s be frank: sometimes life sucks. Despite our different religious traditions we can all affirm that death is inevitable, loss is frequent, and life can be unspeakably painful. No one’s rituals or faith can save her from that darkness, and if a theology claims to do so, it does so disingenuously. In other words, the purpose of religion is to not spare us from despair.

Instead, I suspect the purpose of religion is a bit more ineffable, intimate, and honest. Earlier I mentioned that I occasionally suffer from situational depression. One example is that every winter that same “situation” seems to manifest itself: seemingly impenetrable darkness. Since I have moved to England where the sun sets at 3 PM in December, my Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.) has been at its all time worst. (I must be careful to clarify here that S.A.D. is not necessarily a form of situational depression but rather is a specifier of general depression; this distinction is incredibly important for diagnosis and treatment, but the distinction between the two is not as important for the theological metaphor I am about to entertain).

One of the most popularized treatments for S.A.D. is light therapy, a treatment option in which the sufferer exposes herself to a special light for a period of time daily. The light, when exposed to the retina, helps manipulate the brain’s production of melatonin, which has been linked to sleep patterns and to some extent mood disorders. While I need not go into the science of S.A.D. and its treatments, I’m curious to discover that light is a popular treatment for sadness that is triggered by darkness.

One might say that religion has been prescribing this treatment plan for centuries. The Jewish celebration of Hanukkah (the Festival of Lights), the Hindu celebration of Diwali (the Festival of Lights), the Scandinavian, Australian, and New Zealand celebration of Yuletide, the Christian celebration of Advent and Christmas, and many more are examples of ways in which religion has sought to not only name the power of evil and darkness in life but also celebrate that light still shines. In other words, there seems to be a fascinating diversity of tradition around the celebration of light in the midst of seemingly impenetrable darkness.

As a Christian, I am currently celebrating the season of Advent. Advent is the period of approximately four weeks prior to Christmas in which we focus on themes of waiting and preparation. Each Sunday of Advent we light a candle to remind us that there is hope in darkness, promise in despair, and new life after loss. Advent recognizes that we are not spared from darkness, but have a light in it; though we inevitably suffer from situational depression, we have hope that there is purpose, meaning, and final reconciliation in and after life.

So what then is the purpose of religion? British writer Ruth Jolly defines what the purpose of religion has been in her life in her autobiographical work Something Absolute: “Religion isn't really about giving intellectual assent to things that other people proclaim to be true; it's about awareness of a spiritual dimension to existence. It's about the way this awareness affects the life you lead, with others and for others. And it's about shaping this life through our fleeting experiences of the divine."

Jolly’s words for me touch on the heart of not only the Advent season and all celebrations of light, but also my calling into ordained ministry. I understand my goal as a pastor is not to force people to find meaning and purpose in a certain ritual or tradition, but if the resources of my faith can provide someone with hope and new life in their personal winter darkness, it is my task to help foster that hope. Ultimately no religion has the power to spare us from despair, but it does provide us with tools to help us more deeply express our grief and give us language with which to name hope. With this view I see religion not as a bully but as an important life aid, one that seeks to comfort, not convert. I only hope that I can continue to live into my calling into a ministry of intense honesty and be a light for others.

Originally written on December 10, 2010.