A day or two ago, after a sleepless night, I looked out the window and saw the moon shining through a gap in the clouds. Still the moon, coming through the bare branches of the trees. Everything was quiet. Beautiful.
The moon, a symbol of Mary, reflecting the light of Christ.
I think of all the saints we know and all the saints we don’t, serving in famines and serving in wars and serving in plagues. The courage that comes from faith, and the calm. I think of Our Lord on the cross, and Our Lord in the tomb, and the joy of Mary Magdalene when he calls out her name.
Even during the total eclipse last year, when the moon blotted out the sun, all that happened was the coming of the prettiest violet light. A few soft stars. It was like a quiet summer evening. We sat in our lawn chairs in the front yard drinking our second cup of coffee.
And then it was morning again. An ordinary summer morning. The dishes to do. The lawn to mow.
Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. Nothing. Neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers. What has come into being in him is life, and the life is the light of all people, and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will never overcome it.