“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John 1:5

For two nights, I have been in the presence of candlelight. On Monday evening, in the midst of yet another snowstorm, I was privileged to gather with friends for a healing circle for a dear man who was to have surgery yesterday. As each person shared a prayer or inspiring words of hope, they lit a small candle to light the way of their words into his heart and into the wisdom of the Universe. We came together in the cold darkness and left in the warm glow of candlelight that held our prayers and our deep hope for this one we love.

Last night was another night of privilege. I attended a service of observance of the Winter Solstice in the beautiful chapel of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet. We entered the chapel in nearly total darkness, led to our seats by the tiny flashlight held by an usher. Seated in my pew, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark space which was lit only by the colored globes of flickering candlelight. Slowly I began to detect familiar parts of this sacred space. As the service evolved through music, the poetry of Rumi and the beautiful reflections of Karen Hering on darkness and light, candles were lit around the sanctuary. More light. It is surprising what light can be shed by many candles all lit at one time in a concentrated area, altars for instance, or birthday cakes. And then finally, we all ringed the beautiful space holding a lit candle in our own hands. The light had spread from one central source, one central Source, and been passed one to the other. (Isn’t this always the case?) These strangers who had come together in darkness, on the darkest night of the year, were now bathed in the beauty of candlelight and one another. We lifted our voices in the chant “Light and Darkness” and carried it into a round. The music of our voices bounced off the walls that have held the prayers of women for at least a hundred years. It was primal and yet held within it a longing for a future yet to be realized.

It is true that we all look better in candlelight. Any one person in either of these situations carried their own inner beauty but, in the pure light of day, are quite ordinary. Flaws exist. The scars of time, worry, and injury mark our faces. But when the light of a glowing candle is held in hopeful hands and lights our eyes and cheeks, mouths and noses, brows and lashes, each of us becomes magical. A thing of pure beauty.

Perhaps, in those moments when candlelight brings life to our watching faces, we connect with our ancestors. Those who first hit stone against stick, saw the flicker of what would change their lives for ever. Perhaps we hold within our faces the gift of fire…..and we cannot help but bask in the hope of a way to tame the darkness that can surround us.

Many of us will have at least one more opportunity to stand in candlelight this week as we gather for celebrations of Christmas Eve. As the flame of the candles are passed from one person to another, I suggest we look, really look at the faces around us. That we look and  hold onto that image for the times when darkness seems to overcome. Hold on and remember, we are the ones who long ago discovered how to bring light out of the dark. Hold on and remember the beauty and the power.