Author's Note: Several years ago I was asked by the Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross, whose Motherhouse is in Bay Settlement on the eastern side of the Green Bay, to offer reflections on the Canticle of the Creatures by St. Francis. I shared the reflections during an evening gathering that the good sisters call "Silence and Sunset". After a recent call from the community for a copy of the talk, I decided that I would post them as a series in Embers over the next few weeks. I highly encourage you to read St Francis' poem as a foundation, and consider these 'companion pieces' to help you reflect more deeply on what the good Saint has to tell us.
Brother Sun
One could expect that the dawn should be cataclysmic –
the confrontation of darkness by light. But
the fundamental elements of nature speak of the fundamental elements of the
Creator, and when God separated the day from the night, he saw how good it
was. The transition of night to day then
is more of transfiguration than conflict.
Night reveals the vastness and eternity of God; day reveals the nearness
of God. And so, dawn itself comes softly,
rising like a herald in the east far ahead of the sun because sunrise is part
of dawn.
Night thins on the eastern horizon at the first hint
of the coming light. The deep blackness
of night pales first at the very edge as the stars fade quietly from view as if
dissolving - then spreading up and outward, now overhead, now westward. The light takes on a subtle, so subtle
blueness. Everything around begins to
once more take on dimension, texture and detail in the early dimness as if
rediscovered or resurrected.
Now pinks and oranges rise up as a Gloria.
Now, in its destined and perfect timing,
the sun itself appears. “God has pitched there a tent for the
sun; it comes forth like a bridegroom from his chamber, and like an athlete
joyfully runs his course. From the end
of the heavens, it comes forth.” Psalm 19:5-7
The sun crests red, appearing to alight the east on fire, but as
with the burning bush, the earth is not consumed.
Full orbed now as if set free, the sun rises – now orange. That orange, gathered morning light stretches
out across the water to touch the souls that face east and ponder. Then, as the sun rises higher in the sky, now
yellow, now white, the light disperses out across the whole water, as each tiny
ripple catches fire – the entire surface of the water now sparkling brilliantly
in this new morning.
The warming sun now breathes life into the breeze that begins to
stir and move across the earth like the Holy Spirit who moved over the primal
waters and great chaos. Now at zenith,
the wind blows through the tall grasses of late summer and they ripple like
tossing waves across a green sea.
The sun journeys westward, sure and certain of its course and
purpose.
Finally, sunset mirrors dawn.
The sun sinks lower, now yellow, now orange. That orange evening light gathers all of the
sparkling and stretches out across the water to touch the souls that face west
and ponder. It is the times of sunrise
and sunset that lay down a path upon the waters that beckon the soul to gaze,
to dream, to contemplate, and to pray.
As the sun slips beneath the horizon the sky sings in reds and
pinks, oranges, and purples.
Then twilight gathers, the distant trees, lush and green darken
into silhouette, and the
stars make ready.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash
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