Today and next Tuesday Dr Andrew Kania invites us to spend time reflecting on the nature of Epiphany in our lives. This week the reflection is based on the Old Testament scriptural passage from Isaiah reproduced below. Next week he takes a passage from John in the New Testament.

The people that walked in darkness
has seen a great light;
on those who live in a land of deep shadow
a light has shone.
You have made their gladness greater,
you have made their joy increase;
they rejoice in your presence
as people rejoice at harvest time,
as people are happy when they are dividing the spoils. [Isaiah 9:1-2]

Imagine a world without light for a moment...

Imagine a world, where a rustic, rural life although not devoid of hardship — offers you the reward of contentment at the close of each day. Imagine this life; where although not wealthy in material goods, you are rich in things that are eternal: a close family, a reasonable annual harvest, and a loving spouse.

Now let us remove but one factor from this idyllic scene — but one. The sun sets — and it does not rise the next day. When you awake earlier than usual the next morning, because you are bitterly cold — you are shrouded in darkness; you hear the cry of your child to be fed — but you stumble tripping over your furniture. You hear the voice of your fearful spouse — but you can only trace the angle of her beauty with your finger tips. You look for matches and candles, and finding them, you set a fire in the hearth. Outside it is freezing — crops and animals are dying. This is the first day.

On the second — you begin to imagine that evil lurks outside the confines of your cottage; you are unsure of what or who has entered your property. When darkness comes — the imagination dreams up so many illusory anxieties. Where will food come from, if there is no sun?

On the third day — you begin to doubt your very life — am I dead; is this what death is? Is there a God? If I am dead, then all there is — is darkness. As the Circadian rhythm starts to fragment — you start to think ever deeper: I cannot be dead — for I can still hear the beating of my heart, and I am conscious of my own breathing; I am hungry. I shake and shudder — for devoid of the sun — the world has become frozen — and the clothes that I am wearing are not adequate to sustain heat; and I fumble through my wardrobe, feeling the various fibres for something warm. I sit and wait — in the hope that the sun returns. Miraculously it does.

Now when you look at the world — everything seems unrecognizable — it is as if you are seeing the world for the very first time. That broken fence that infuriated you — is so quaint in its breakage. Your courage returns as you now see that there were no wild animals or sinister strangers. Your zest for life returns. Where before you stumbled — now you walk with confidence. As the day begins to warm — you bask in the sunlight — invigorated by the energy that radiates upon your skin. Your eyes are closed — so that you can concentrate on feeling the goodness of the sun; you feel the life returning within your very being. Never have you been so happy as at this moment — for once deprived of the sun — you rejoice and appreciate it the more. You even begin to speak with estranged neighbours. All the disputes you have had, have vanished in the light of this new dawn. Like the phoenix that rises from out of its own ash, so this dawn has resurrected a spirit that had been too unappreciative of the simple gifts that are offered each day. The gift of light that you have taken for granted, you begin to realize is that which gives life. Where there is no light and only darkness — life begins to dim. For light enters the world not only to dispel darkness — but also to give life. (cf. John 1: 4).

Now equipped with this new realization you sit each evening on your porch — looking out at the sun disappearing beneath the tall branches of the forest. Each morning you eat breakfast from the same vantage point from which you closed the day before. You are the same man physically — and no passerby could speak any different of your appearance; it is only that within you a new Light is burning — and when you speak this Light radiates.

Light — the first form of creation!

Natural light gives meaning to the world: days are divided between darkness and light; seasons are created by the angle of the light that comes to the earth from the sun. Robert Grosseteste would write that light is the first form of creation, for it is so vital. Yet if this created light, is so life-giving; how much greater is that Light from Light, the uncreated Light, that sculpted not only our sun, but all the suns throughout the entire universe.

Pseudo-Dionysius calls the Highest Good, the 'spiritual Light', for the entire visible universe "is an unfolding from this Light in which it participates". (Cullen, 2006, p. 48). This Light is in Dionysius' words, that which: "contributes to the generation of sensible bodies, and moves them to life, and nourishes, and increases, and perfects, and purifies and renews". (Cullen, 2006, p. 48)

Natural light is real inasmuch as it is an analogy of the greater 'spiritual Light'. Of its own — natural light is not eternal — one can conceive for instance that it is possible for our sun to be destroyed; in fact, the tenuous nature of the sun as a provider of light is often emphasized when dark clouds roll in, or during an eclipse, or when one is in a room. Natural light testifies to the 'spiritual light' as the Holy Forerunner, St. John the Baptist — to something greater. Like all of creation, natural light stems from a greater Luminosity than even itself. This is a difficult concept, for human beings can only draw comparisons to that which they have seen or experienced — but humanity in itself, is far greater in potential purity, than the purest natural light on this planet is to Divine Light.

The need for an epiphany in the life of each of us...

The Damascene teaches us about the need for an epiphany in the life of each of us, in order to come to the fullness of our humanity. This 'epiphany' in its truest sense is a mystical self-realization, a response to an event, or a discovery on introspection. It is as if a dawn breaks in which all that was dark, has now become clear; as if meaning has come so as to transform existence into living. In a beautiful epiphonema the Damascene sings:

St John of Damascus (676-749)

"God therefore made human kind
free of evil, upright, virtuous,
free from grief and anxiety,
adorned with every virtue,
decked in everything good,
a kind of second cosmos,
little in great,
another angel,
a worshipper of mixed parts,
contemplator of the visible creation,
initiate of the intelligible,
king of those on earth,
ruled over from above,
earthly and heavenly,
passing away and immortal,
visible and intelligible,
a mean between greatness and lowliness,
the same both spirit and flesh,
flesh on account of pride,
spirit on account of grace,
the one that he might suffer and when suffering remember and be chastened,
the other that he might abide and glorify his benefactor, aspiring to greatness,
a living being guided in this life and transformed in the age to come,
and — the furthest reach of mystery — by his inclination to God deified:
deified, however, by participation in the divine radiance
and not transformed into the divine being."
(Expos. 26. 24-36). (Louth, 2002, pp. 133-134)

That the majority of humans who inhabit the globe do not see their natures in this light — does not make the Truth of St. John's words less True — but attests to the lack of Light in human existence.

Each life experience builds upon another...

Over time layers upon layers of sand and soil settle. Archaeologists dig into the ground to find generation upon generation of communities — one life built upon the remains of another. So it is with the individual. Each life experience builds upon another; each portion of learning rests on that which has been learned previously. We are in fact like the trunk of trees — layered inside but from the outside we appear as a single façade. That which we really are, is too sensitive to be shared with an impervious outside world. We offer the world what the world wants or expects of us — and in time this expectancy becomes us; by becoming mono-dimensional to the world, we lose the sense of the mystery of the human person. We spend so much time appeasing the world — that we cease feeding the universe within. By so doing, the Light within, flickers, then fades, then eventually sleeps as a spark. We have become self-limited, by rejecting the possibility of humanity being made God.

LINK TO PART II>>

Image Credits:
The title image is of a sunrise over the city of Sydney taken by Brian Coyne. Clicking on the image of St John Damascene in the commentary will take you to the original source and the Wikipedia page on St John Damascene.

Dr. Andrew Thomas Kania

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©2010Dr Andrew Thomas Kania

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