the light that shines in the darkness

All the way back in January, I participated in a small group – only about 5 or 6 – who got together weekly to practice contemplative prayer. One week the passage we meditated on was from John 1. It was verses 1 to 5, but the printed passage was in a version I had never read before.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. All things were created through him, and apart from him not one thing was created that has been created. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness did not overcome it.

As I worked through the passage in my thoughts, in the silence, I was struck by the word “life.” Verse 4 talks about the life being the light of men. As I sat in silence, I wondered what it was talking about. What was the “life” that was in him? And how was it the light of humanity? Earlier, it says that he was with God in the beginning and that all things were created through him. Was he the life that was breathed into all creation by the Spirit that hovered? What does this life look like? How has it become the light? What light still shines that the darkness has not overcome?

When I thought of this word – life – I was overwhelmed by the simplicity of what could be being said here. What is life? It is the mundane and the beautiful. It is the loud and the gentle. Life is the practical, like pumping gas, watching the numbers go up as I wait for the click that indicates the tank is full. It is the lump that rises in my throat as I catch a glimpse of the ocean; waves crashing and moaning. Life is the taste of apple pie, fresh from the oven. It is the smell of my neighbour’s woodstove, wafting on the breeze. Life is walking up to my front door after a long day at work, sighing with weary gratitude at another day done. It is the sudsy bubbles and warm water on my hands as I rub a cloth over the supper dishes. Life is another basket full of dirty laundry, carried down to the laundry room. It’s the cold cement floor freezing my feet, reminding me that I left my slippers upstairs.

And truly, this is the life that is the light of the world. The darkness has not overcome this light. When we become so intent on ideas and ambition and accumulation, we are in danger of missing out on this light, this life that comes from the One who was breathed into creation. Our lofty initiatives and enterprises can cause us to lose sight of this Life. But the light that shines in the darkness is as close as our 5 senses. The sound of our breathing, the smell of coffee, the daylight streaming through the window, clicking keyboard keys beneath our fingertips as we type, and the lingering taste of our afternoon snack.

Today, March 24th, is a different world than when I sat in contemplative prayer, considering John 1, last January. Today we are mostly inside. Isolated. Scared. Today our future feels more uncertain. And yet, the light shines in the darkness. The darkness has not overcome it.

As I struggle with feelings of fear, I am reminded to notice the Life that has been here from the beginning. Today I begin a daily ritual of naming the life, the light, that I am receiving with my senses. I see remnants of snow dropping from the branches outside my window as the wind blows and blows. I hear my children excitedly chattering in another room, sharing some funny video or picture with each other. I smell the freshly made doughnuts cooling on the counter – a fun distraction from the daily barrage of bad news flooding my newsfeed. I taste… well, I think I need another snack so I can complete this one – the donut holes are delicious. I feel the dry, cracking skin on my hands from washing them so many times a day.

Such a simple ritual, and yet powerful. I feel a connection with all of you, my friends. We are all seeing and hearing and feeling similar things. We are experiencing this life together. We are one. This life – this daily life filled with ordinary sights and smells and tastes – is the light of the world. This light reminds us that we are human. This light reminds us of what is important and valuable and good. The economy, although it affects us all, isn’t the light. The political state of things, although it contributes to much of our worry, isn’t the light. This life is the light of the world. And the darkness has not overcome it.

So join me if you like. Join me in noticing the life that is all around. See it and taste it. Smell and hear it. Touch it. It is the light of the world.