Tuesday, December 18, 2007 at 2:02am
Try to leave the light on
Column: Life at First Sight
A little over a year ago, I was asked to choose a name for this column. Since, as a Baha'i, I've always been attracted to the light that truth sheds on any kind of spiritual path, and the indivisible oneness of that, "light" and "lamp" each seemed fitting.
Over the past year, as though I opened a door wider for it, light, together with its spiritual implications, has continued to assert itself within my days. I am repeatedly drawn to any reference I find about it, and there have been many.
Baha'u'llah addresses the nature and power of this light repeatedly, especially in a collection of His writings called The Hidden Words:
"O Son of Being! With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of might I created thee; and within thee have I placed the essence of My light."
"O Son of Being! Thou art My lamp and My light is in thee. Get thou from it thy radiance and seek none other than Me. For I have created thee rich and have bountifully shed my favor upon thee."
Physically speaking, I seek out the light a lot lately, too. I draw closer to it for warmth, especially as it becomes a scarcer commodity during these winter days. I seek it out as my eyes, at midcentury, experience almost monthly changes in the quality of their sight. And, of course, in this season of holidays and holy events during the year's shortest days, there is much focus on light, both material and spiritual.
Every once in a while, a piece of truth that's been looking me in the face for years - certainly making no attempt to hide itself — stops me in my tracks. Usually, it's some kind of coincidence with recent life experience that sounds an inner chord, of course, and makes words that I think I've heard and known for a long time suddenly come through with new implications as loud as a siren.
An experience I had in the dark a few weeks ago gave me a whole new appreciation for light and lamps — any purveyor of light in general.
My husband and I had rented a small and delightful "Ferienwohnung," or vacation apartment, in Germany, close to where friends of ours live. The kind landlord had shown us around the place briefly before he headed away on business. His English was limited, as is our German. What I later realized that he had cautioned us about as he brought an extra key around was, roughly translated, "Remember the light."
When we returned home later that night, it quickly became obvious why he'd said this. We had neglected to put on the exterior light. And on this overcast night, the narrow old-town streets, most of which are also hills, were incredibly dark. The uneven, irregularly spaced steps down into the tiny alley on which our quarters' front door was situated were treacherous. We groped our way down very slowly and carefully in the thick blackness, as the cobbles were also quite slippery underfoot from the cold rain. We were relieved to finally step inside without any sprains or falls.
The very next morning, I read those two Hidden Words. The angels definitely have their fun with me that way sometimes.
And to launch my reflection further, there was a third piece of guidance to go with them: "The good pleasure of God is love for His creatures. The will and plan of God is that each individual member of humankind shall become illumined like unto a lamp, radiant with all the destined virtues of humanity, leading his fellow creatures out of natural darkness into the heavenly light. Therein rests the virtue and glory of the world of humanity."
One light, and so very many lamps — each and every member of humankind. That's quite a supply. How might we feed our own lamp to special brightness in this season of particular darkness? Just what kind of brilliant light might all of those "destined virtues of humanity" provide that makes it bright enough to lead us from the "natural darkness" of a sore-tried world into the safe, joyful freedom of "heavenly light"?
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
Over the past year, as though I opened a door wider for it, light, together with its spiritual implications, has continued to assert itself within my days. I am repeatedly drawn to any reference I find about it, and there have been many.
Baha'u'llah addresses the nature and power of this light repeatedly, especially in a collection of His writings called The Hidden Words:
"O Son of Being! With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of might I created thee; and within thee have I placed the essence of My light."
"O Son of Being! Thou art My lamp and My light is in thee. Get thou from it thy radiance and seek none other than Me. For I have created thee rich and have bountifully shed my favor upon thee."
Physically speaking, I seek out the light a lot lately, too. I draw closer to it for warmth, especially as it becomes a scarcer commodity during these winter days. I seek it out as my eyes, at midcentury, experience almost monthly changes in the quality of their sight. And, of course, in this season of holidays and holy events during the year's shortest days, there is much focus on light, both material and spiritual.
Every once in a while, a piece of truth that's been looking me in the face for years - certainly making no attempt to hide itself — stops me in my tracks. Usually, it's some kind of coincidence with recent life experience that sounds an inner chord, of course, and makes words that I think I've heard and known for a long time suddenly come through with new implications as loud as a siren.
An experience I had in the dark a few weeks ago gave me a whole new appreciation for light and lamps — any purveyor of light in general.
My husband and I had rented a small and delightful "Ferienwohnung," or vacation apartment, in Germany, close to where friends of ours live. The kind landlord had shown us around the place briefly before he headed away on business. His English was limited, as is our German. What I later realized that he had cautioned us about as he brought an extra key around was, roughly translated, "Remember the light."
When we returned home later that night, it quickly became obvious why he'd said this. We had neglected to put on the exterior light. And on this overcast night, the narrow old-town streets, most of which are also hills, were incredibly dark. The uneven, irregularly spaced steps down into the tiny alley on which our quarters' front door was situated were treacherous. We groped our way down very slowly and carefully in the thick blackness, as the cobbles were also quite slippery underfoot from the cold rain. We were relieved to finally step inside without any sprains or falls.
The very next morning, I read those two Hidden Words. The angels definitely have their fun with me that way sometimes.
And to launch my reflection further, there was a third piece of guidance to go with them: "The good pleasure of God is love for His creatures. The will and plan of God is that each individual member of humankind shall become illumined like unto a lamp, radiant with all the destined virtues of humanity, leading his fellow creatures out of natural darkness into the heavenly light. Therein rests the virtue and glory of the world of humanity."
One light, and so very many lamps — each and every member of humankind. That's quite a supply. How might we feed our own lamp to special brightness in this season of particular darkness? Just what kind of brilliant light might all of those "destined virtues of humanity" provide that makes it bright enough to lead us from the "natural darkness" of a sore-tried world into the safe, joyful freedom of "heavenly light"?
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © Copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.