Reflections on the Solar Eclipse

 

                The thing that really stood out to me about viewing the solar eclipse in my area of the country was just how bright out it still was, even with well over 90% of the sun blocked by the moon. Scientists were quite right that there is a big difference between 99% coverage and full totality.

                It got me thinking about how the sun, or similar images of light or fire, is often used as a metaphor for God in the Bible. In Daniel 7, a stream of fire flowed out from God’s presence. On the Mount of Transfiguration Jesus’ face shone like the sun. Jesus calls himself the light of the world. And in Revelation 21, in an image of the heavenly end times, it is said that there will be no sun, because the glory of the Lord will be the light of the city of God.

                I was thinking about how during the eclipse, we were all so careful not to look directly at the sun, to do so could permanently damage our eyes. It helps us understand passages like Exodus 34 where we’re told that no one can see the face of God and live. There is something so magnificent and bright about God that in our sinful state we cannot bear to glimpse Him in the fullness of his glory and holiness any more than our eyes are prepared to look directly at the sun.

                And yet Moses was allowed to see God’s backside. God is persistent in trying to reveal Himself to us in ways that we are ready for, even if we are not yet ready to see the full glory of God.

I think of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. He describes people who have lived in the darkness of a cave their whole lives, and what it would be like to, for the first time ever, step out of the cave into the fullness of the sun’s rays. Many would find the bright light painful and blinding. Many would walk right back into the cave and prefer to live in the shadows that they are used to rather than take the time to let their eyes gradually adjust to the light. And in so doing, they would miss out on all the joys of the outside world.

I think of the caves of our own making that we live in. How just like the moon blocks the sun during the solar eclipse, we too seek to erect barriers to hide ourselves from God’s glorious light. Perhaps we erect barriers because we cannot dare to sin in the presence of a holy God; we pretend God cannot see us, so that we can sin without as much guilt. Perhaps we erect barriers so that we can pretend that we are masters of our own lives, so that we do not have to live in service and obedience to the ways of God. Or perhaps others have erected the barriers that are obscuring the light from your view. Perhaps there were Christians who were awful ambassadors for God, whose evil actions have made it harder for you to see what God is really and truly like. Perhaps the persistence of death and suffering and evil that we humans have brought into this world make it harder for you to see that there really could be a God of love.

But the good news I keep thinking about as I reflect on the solar eclipse is that it’s really hard to block out the sun. If just 1% of the rays get past the moon, it’s still really bright out. Similarly, it’s really hard to block out the glory of God. If even 1% of God’s glory and goodness gets through all the barriers we humans erect, that is still a powerful thing. Indeed, even for those in the full totality of the eclipse, it was not as dark as night. The sky was not absent of the glory of the sun. No, it still lit up the sky with wonder. You could look all around at what they call a 360-degree sunset made on the horizon during such an event. The sun may set from the sky every night, and yet its rays still reflect to us from the moon, and it is always there to rise anew each morning.

Yes, the good news is that God’s glory and goodness will find you, it cannot be blocked out. As much as you try to avoid it, there are times where God will break through to you. Perhaps in the wonder of a solar eclipse, in the wonder of a world made with such precision that the moon and the sun are at exactly the right distance from the earth that they appear to be the same size as they pass in front of each other. Or perhaps God’s glory will break through to you in the unexpected kindness of a friend, in the beauty of spring flowers, in the emotion of music, in the power of story.

There are many who are pessimistic about the future of religion in our country as secularism continues to rise and expand. But I’m not overly pessimistic about it. Because so long as the slimmest rays of God’s light keep poking through, and they will, that is still a powerful amount of light.

Think of God as infinite majesty. Then think about how 1% of infinity is still infinity. God cannot be blocked out.

In Psalm 139, the psalmist asks, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?” And in so many words, the answer is nowhere. No amount of darkness can shield us from His light.

God is clever in His pursuit of us. God rarely shows up to us in full glory that would overwhelm us or scare us off. But God has ways of little by little shining through the cracks in ways that slowly draw us back to Him. God pursues us in ways that give time for our eyes to adjust to His glory, such that even though now we see as in a mirror dimly, we will one day see Him face to face. That is what gives me optimism and hope that many will yet find their ways back to God, that many will yet be able to declare, “I once was lost, but now I’m found.”

And here’s my last thought. In order to watch the eclipse, many chose to gather together and make it a communal experience. Some hosted watch parties. Others went out to be in public parks. There is something special in thinking about how many millions of people rested from their labors so as to go outside and witness a moment of awe and majesty. There is something extra special about experiencing things of awe, not alone, but in community, of having someone to share the experience with.

It got me thinking of how many people are content to do the faith thing alone. And yet, how cool is it that every Sunday, millions of people rest from their labors to stop and communally witness to the majesty and awe of God in worship at church? There is something special about being a part of a community of faith, of worship as a communal experience, as something to share in, and that is something that those who go it alone miss out on.