Shadows Can Bring Illumination

 The poppies send up their / orange flares; swaying / in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation / of bright dust, of thin / and lacy leaves. / There isn’t a place
in this world that doesn’t / sooner or later drown / in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while, / the roughage / shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything / with its yellow hair. / Of course nothing stops the cold,
black, curved blade / from hooking forward— / of course / loss is the great lesson.
But I also say this: that light / is an invitation / to happiness, / and that happiness,
when it’s done right, / is a kind of holiness, / palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields, / touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed / in the river / of earthly delight—
and what are you going to do— / what can you do / about it— / deep, blue night?
     —“Poppies” by Mary Oliver

Throughout Lent, we have used images as metaphors for the kinds of illumination we are called to embody in the world: Beacon. Prism. Inner light. Lantern. Candle. Shadow. Yes, even our shadows can bring illumination—to ourselves, others, and the world around us. They are a necessary response to light; they reflect, for better or worse, our deepest longings and sincerest desires. Just ask Peter Pan, who lost his shadow and was desperate for Wendy to sew it back on.  He needed his shadow; it reflected an essential part of himself—perhaps the part of him that never wanted to grow up. . . .  Kaleidoscopes, also, require both light and shadow to create their beautiful and mesmerizing patterns of color and shape. Without shadow, light would blend together, distinguishing nothing. Everything would become “bright fields touched by their rough and spongy gold” without the deep, blue “indigos of darkness.” We require them both to recognize either. They both hold lessons for us to learn. What are your shadows teaching you?  How do your shadows inform your light—especially the light you are called to offer the world?  As we move into the hope and promise of Eastertide—with each passing day bringing daylight longer than the day before—I hope we will continue to glean instructions from the spectrum of illumination.

See you in church,
Christy