Let There Be Light

Radical Reverence and the Solar Eclipse

A few weeks ago, across the country, we were treated to a truly awesome event: A total eclipse of the sun. Here in Vermont, we had the good fortune to be in the totality and the weather was perfect. A friend of mine came from France specifically to see the eclipse, and while we could have stayed on my farm and seen 98% percent of totality, he explained that doing so would be like going to the theater, but watching the play from the street. We would miss the show.

So, we piled some chairs and a cooler with snacks and drinks into the car and headed northeast. We didn’t have a particular destination, but we were looking for a place where he could have the perfect view.

After an hour and a half, we were high in the mountains, still covered in snow.

“There” he pointed. “There is the place.”

He indicated a small turn off, a trailhead parking lot at the summit of Mount Abraham. There were already several cars parked and people milling about waiting for the show to begin. The wind was cold, but the view was indeed perfect.

So, we parked the car and set up our chairs. More people arrived, spreading out chairs and blankets and chatting amiably, sharing snacks. Soon, it felt like a mini festival. Children were excited, adults almost as much. There was a crackling energy of anticipation.

Precisely on time, the eclipse began. For almost an hour, the skies gradually darkened. People stood or sat, protective glasses on, staring up at the sky.

“It’s a quarter dark!”

“Cool!”

When the Western skies over the Adirondack mountains turned crimson and gold, there were cries of “Wow! Sunset!”

As totality approached, Venus lit up, and with her, stars. A mysterious circle of light held center stage.

And then there was a pregnant silence. A hush fell over our little parking lot and the world went quiet.

For three minutes, the universe held its breath. All was still and silent. All faces were turned upwards.

The Navajo say that one should not view an eclipse. It is a time when the world is being born from darkness, and the energy of an eclipse is so powerful that it can bring about everything from miscarriages to great catastrophe. During the darkness, the people are advised to be inside, praying.

And yet, here we were, outside, staring boldly up at the sky, some of us in deep contemplation, others simply in rapturous wonder.

Then suddenly, the moon moved ever so slightly away from the center, and BAM! the world was illuminated by a blinding light that poured forth from the sky.

Yehi Or. Let there be light.

There were gasps, cries, shrieks. It was as if life itself had returned. Or perhaps, had only just begun.

Yehi Or. Let there be light.

It was awesome in the true sense of the word. The immense power of our sun giving birth to life in a single moment sent me to my knees. Like Moses on Sinai, I had to turn my eyes away from it’s light.

No words could ever capture that feeling of reverence and amazement, deep humility, and profound gratitude. But that feeling – that sense of awe – is the essence of spirituality.

No words could ever capture that feeling of reverence and amazement, deep humility, and profound gratitude. But that feeling – that sense of awe – is the essence of spirituality.

In every tradition, there are teachings about moments when we are brought into relationship with awe, or with the unimaginable, indescribable Mystery. Many are creation myths. The origin of existence, itself. The Biblical one begins with Light.

As it says in Genesis: And God said, Yehi Or. Let there be light: and there was light. The first light of creation. The birth of all that is. What could be more mysterious, more awesome than that?

Astrophysicists who study the origins of our Universe talk about the Big Bang. A moment in which from nothing, came something. In an explosion of light – energy – the process that created life started. Though we imagine that there was nothing before this, the truth is that there was still something that preceded the birth of the universe. Something had to “give birth” or manifest what is.

In the Abrahamic religions, we call this something God. Daoists call it The Dao. Hindus refer to Brahman, and while Buddhists do not have a creation myth or deity, they believe that nothing happens without a cause. In other words, there is still something that allows for – or generates the conditions for - creation to occur. Constantly. They call it dependent origination or co-arising.

At the root of all spirituality is the idea that some thing (or more correctly no – thing, because it cannot be named, described or limited. It’s not a noun, but a verb), is the cause of all other things. And that no-thing demands our reverence. It demands amazement. It demands awe.

When we come into contact with that no-thing, it is a moment of great power. In the Bible, when Moses first comes into contact with YHVH, it is through the light of the Burning Bush. Moses notices that though the bush is on fire, it is not consumed by the flames and the fire itself does not burn out. God, it seems, is an inexhaustible, powerful light: pure potential energy so immense that it demands Moses remove his shoes and stand back. In other words, it asks for his humility.

“Be awed,” it says. “For I am the creator of all. Including YOU! I cannot be named, I cannot be contained, but I AM.”

“Be awed,” it says.

If we are to call ourselves spiritual, we must cultivate that sense of awe to I AM. We must stand in Radical Reverence, shoes off, recognizing our own place in relationship to that which is the source of all.

Perhaps that is why all of our traditions emphasize the importance of spiritual practice or worship to remind us that there is something more than our mundane lives which demands reverence. We are asked to turn our faces toward the light and allow ourselves to be awed by it, to allow the world – and our relationship to it - to be born again. Each time.

We are asked to turn our faces toward the light and allow ourselves to be awed by it, to allow the world – and our relationship to it - to be born again. Each time.

The sun hadn’t fully returned before people were packing up their picnics and piling into their cars for the drive home. That awesome moment of en-lightenment and awe had passed. Already, people had turned their faces downwards to their phones, posting photos, texting friends. In a matter of minutes, one of the most illuminating events in the world became an Instagram story – no different than a vacation photo or a snap of a fancy dinner.

Yes, moments of awe, illumination, awakening, or enlightenment are brief. We cannot hold on to them, but we can return to them. We can remember. It doesn’t require anything as dramatic as an eclipse. We can cultivate that sense of awe before a single daffodil, a bird, a tree, or the face of another. The miracle of existence is present in everything and awe is available to us in every moment, if we simply look for it. We only have to open ourselves up to it and allow ourselves to be illuminated.

When we do, the world is born again. And so are we. In the bright light, we remember that simply to be alive is the most awesome thing of all.

Yehi Or.  Let there be light.