Candlemas

When I feel my world getting too saturated with troubling news, I return to the gentle book, Blessings of the Daily, A Monastic Book of Days written by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette.  I bought this book at the seminary bookstore when I was studying at San Francisco Theological Seminary. When weary, I would often retreat to that sanctuary where I could rest among poetry, icons, and books of inspiration that reminded me that there was more to the journey than papers and textbooks.     

Brother Victor is a monk who writes books, cooks for his monastery, and tends to the sheep and gardens.  His entry for February 2 explains Candlemas, the feast that celebrates Jesus being presented to the temple forty days after his birth. There waiting, as always, were the elders Simeon and Anna. They immediately see Jesus' light, and they break out in praise at the sight.  That is the gift of learning to wait. It can improve the inner vision if we wait with belief.  

 

Candlemas is also a time when faith communities (including, I understand, some Protestant ones) bless the candles that will be used throughout the year. I thought of Candlemas as I talked to Ruth yesterday. She is in her 80s, and she can neither walk nor stand. I do not know how long she has lived in skilled nursing, but I have been worshiping and visiting with her for almost ten years.  She is from the south and has deep Baptist roots. I admire her tenacity, but more than that. I simply like her very much.   

 

Every once in awhile she despairs at the the lack of faith around her, and yesterday was one of those days. As we talked, I reminded her that regardless, Jesus said we must keep our lamps lit.  This morning, as I light my candles,  I think of her and all of those who need ongoing medical care, but who yearn to be a part of a faith-filled community. True healing runs deeper that just a physical act. It is a spiritual undertaking, regardless of our beliefs. Imagine if skilled nursing communities were really recognized as the sanctuaries they are. What if communal prayer and daily devotions were a part of the daily routine and if medicines were given as a sacrament, not just a pill to be administered once a day? Surely the life of many of the residents would burn brighter.   

 

I appreciate Brother Victor's reflection on candles so I will close with that on this day of Candlemas. As you go into your world today, remember that your light is very much needed. Know that you will be blessed, and you will bless. May you be recognized as one bearing love.     

    

Candles are very expressive of the devotional life of monasteries: there are the four candles of the Advent wreath, the Christmas candle lit on Christmas day, and the Easter candle lit during the whole of Paschaltime. Then there are the everyday candles used during the celebration of the Eucharist and the monastic offices, the candle that accompanies the Eucharist taken to a sick monk in his cell, and the candles and oil lamps lit in front of our ikons. The dancing yet steady flames of the candles in our chapel speak to me of the those intangible realities the monk seeks during long hours of prayer. The comforting, ethereal aura springing from their light affirms the reality of a mysterious presence that can be sensed only with the eyes of faith. Candles are, in a way, messengers of him who is both mystery and the Invisible One.