2nd week of Lent

The Lord is my Light and my Salvation
Light plays such an important role in the Bible. Beginning with the creation account itself in Genesis: in Genesis 1:2, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep’ when God first created it. God then spoke, saying: “Let there be light!” And upon God’s command, there was light. This had to be the second step after the creation of the formless earth, for only then could all the rest of creation, and life, exist: with sunlight, to see their way, allow plants and trees grow and transform light into chemical energy by the process of photosynthesis.
In the Psalms, as in Psalm 27 in today’s readings, we pray with the Psalmist “The Lord is my light and my salvation”. Isaiah 9:2 tells us: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”
In the Gospels, Jesus very often uses the image of light and enlightening in a spiritual / intellectual sense. Christ says of himself “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
In the opening of the Gospel of John (1:5), the evangelist stresses: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it”. Matthew in turn urges us: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (5:16)
In today’s Gospel, which is about the Transfiguration of Jesus (Luke 9:28-36), we read that when Jesus went up the mountain with Peter, John and James to pray, he was suddenly surrounded by light and “his face changed in appearance”. The voice of God then came down and said “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” This was a profoundly transformative experience for Jesus’ companions - they were so overcome by awe that Peter suggested they erect tents and stay on that mountain top.
And St Paul reminds the Corinthians: “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:6)
As spring gradually makes its appearance, it seems like we can almost watch the crocuses and daffodils grow, so quickly do they push up under some heat from the sun and water from the rain. The days grow longer (and will do so much more when we also ‘spring forward’ to daylight savings
time at the end of March) and so we can do so much more during the day, enjoy the outdoors so much more, when it stays light longer.
Why is light so obvious a metaphor for intellectual and spiritual ‘enlightenment’? Far beyond the Scriptures, historians have long spoken (sometimes simplistically, it must be said) of the ‘Dark Ages’, that is, the early medieval period, when much of classical learning was neglected or forgotten, and of the age of Enlightenment, in the 17-18th century, when great philosophers like Descartes, Voltaire, Hobbes, Locke, Newton, Hume, Adam Smith, Kant, Thomas Paine, etc. began to revive the study of the ancient classics, engage in serious scientific research, and write treatises of speculative as well as political and economic philosophy.
Other religious traditions speak of ‘Enlightenment’ as well, as a personal experience of true reality, an ‘awakening’ or sudden insight: notably in Buddhism. The Buddha is said to have spent his life in meditation and other spiritual and mental exercises and would not stop until he could find supreme enlightenment.
The Christian tradition of the Quakers (officially known as the Society of Friends), founded in the 17th century in Britain and known for their prayer services where everyone sits in silence waiting for the Holy Spirit to inspire someone to speak, talk about the ‘inward light’ as the presence of God, the light of Christ, “that of God” that is in each of us.
In medieval and Renaissance paintings, the use of light to convey contemplation and holiness, is especially prominent in the art of the Low Countries and of Italy.
One artistic theme in which light played an especially important role is that of the Annunciation – the classic pose is the angel Gabriel visiting the Blessed Virgin and announcing that she would bear a son. In many of the paintings, the artist wishes to represent the moment of conception at the same time as the angel’s message (again, as in Creation, one word – let it be done according to his will, Mary’s acceptance – is sufficient for God’s action to take place. In the Annunciation by the Italian Dominican friar and artist Fra Angelico (d. 1445) and in that of the painter Carlo Crivelli (1486-), the angel sends beams of light to Mary – in Fra Angelico, to her heart; in Crivelli, to her head, to represent the divine action.
A wonderful poem, which then became a hymn, by the English churchman and cardinal St John Henry Newman, invokes the ‘kindly light’ to lead us during times of confusion and uncertainty. Clearly, this is a prayer and addressed to ‘light’ as a metaphor for God’s help, wisdom, guidance and grace.
Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead Thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will; remember not past years.
So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on.
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.