It is amazing the difference the weather makes. Yesterday it rained all day. The people I interacted with in my ventures into the world all seemed down (myself included); no one appeared to have much energy.
Today the sun is shining and it is unseasonably warm and the whole mood of the day is different — full of hope and possibility.
In our small talk, we often fall back on commenting about the weather. Maybe there is more going on here than we realize. We get our bearings from the sun. Is there adequate sunlight? Is the temperature such that I feel invited to go forth and interact with the world?
Botanists tell us that life simply doesn’t happen without light. Our need for light reminds us that we are fragile — creatures dependent on sources of energy much greater than ourselves.
The physicists tell us that when they look closely at the nature of light, there is strange mystery: sometimes light acts like waves, other times like particles; its definitive nature can’t seem to be pinned down.
Those who have approached the boundary between life and death often speak of encountering the presence of an extraordinary light, the brilliance of which cannot be captured into words.
Especially in the Gospel of John, light is a primary metaphor for the ultimate mystery that is God. John tells us at the outset that the Word “was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” That light, John goes on to tell us, is revealed in Jesus.
Come, Lord Jesus, whose light no darkness can diminish. Amen.