"Lux Aeterna "

The title of today’s presentation, “Lux Aeterna”, is a Latin phrase from the Catholic liturgy which means “Eternal Light”. This morning I’m going to talk about different kinds of light - literal and symbolic, the light of the divine, the light of artistic expression, the light we bring to each other.

Here in southern California in August, the days are filled with the heat and power of the summer sun. During the summer, time seems to move a bit more slowly as we enjoy golden languid afternoons, the bounty of fresh ripe fruit, and the sparkle of sunlight on the ocean. This time has a richness and beauty all its own.

As we reach the end of August and look ahead to the fall, the light will start to change, becoming softer as the days grow shorter, and filtering through the autumn leaves to cast shadows in the dusk.

Each season has its own quality of light, each equally beautiful and unique. I can remember a January morning a few years ago when I was up quite early, which is rare for me since I’m usually a night person. The sky was a stunning color, such a deep clear blue I felt I could disappear into it. The air was crisp, and while the warmth of the sun seemed like a distant memory, the radiance of the early morning felt like a blessing. On my way home in the evening, the sun’s light was already beginning to fade, setting the sky ablaze with crimson, and turning the clouds to silver. I was working at a job I didn't really like, so at that point I was especially aware of drawing strength from the beauty of the world around me. At home, I watched as over the course of a few weeks the amaryllis bulb in a pot on our windowsill responded to the light with a graceful shoot that looked like a dancer reaching her arms up to heaven. 

As the weeks went by, the plant produced an incredible cluster of red flowers that made me think about how light and color are related. Light appears to us as a spectrum of color, the rainbow of hues that we see all around us. Sunlight is obviously an essential life force, making the plants grow, bringing us heat and energy. But color is also essential, in an aesthetic sense. Think of how different our world would be if there were only black, grey and white, or if even one of the colors we see, say that deep sky blue, were not visible to us. We know that the colors we can see are limited by our human perception, part of a continuum of energy that extends beyond the visible spectrum. Imagine for a moment what colors might exist in the universe that we can’t see! Light and color are vital, not only to sustain our bodies but also to nourish our spirits.

Many cathedrals, churches and chapels are graced with beautiful stained glass windows that seem to me to celebrate the beauty and richness of pure, intense color. I haven’t seen the famous cathedral at Chartres, but I have been to Grace Cathedral in San Francisco and to the National Cathedral in Washington D.C. My favorite windows at the National Cathedral are abstract mosaics of reds, greens and blues. Instead of portraying a specific event, they speak of a universal and eternal light, the joy of life and the wonder of the infinite. One represents a flame, the fire of the life force. Another shows stars and sky, and was created as a tribute to the human spirit of exploration. The light pouring in through these windows during the day literally illuminates the images and presents the array of colors in their full brilliance.

Variations in light are specific not only to time, but also to place. Artists have often spoken of, and tried to capture, the quality of light in particular places. For instance, Georgia O’Keefe spent many years of her life in New Mexico, where she was drawn to the vast open spaces and stark southwestern vistas. Her biographer, Laurie Lisle, writes:

“ The New Mexico sunlight, far more radiant than the light at sea level, often made newcomers feel that their eyes were open wide for the first time. The experience, to some, came as a startling revelation or even a spiritual awakening ... Visual artists such as Georgia were particularly susceptible. In the searing brightness, the desert, sagebrush, flowers, and mountains shimmered in new hues before her eyes.”

The author D.H. Lawrence, who was a friend of Georgia O’Keefe’s, described it this way.

“In the magnificent fierce morning of New Mexico one sprang awake, a new part of the soul woke up suddenly.”

In late nineteenth century France, the Impressionist school of painting was concerned with capturing the subtleties of light at different times of the day or season. Here are some of the artists’ observations about light and color.

"Drawing and colour are not separate, everything in nature being coloured. The more the colour harmonizes, the more the drawing becomes precise. There must not be a single link too loose, not a crevice through which may escape the emotion, the light, the truth." - Paul Cezanne

Henri Matisse, in describing his experience in Tahiti, talked of light as “pure matter.” He said:

"It was as if the light would be immobilized forever. It is as if life were frozen in a magnificent stance... pure light, pure air, pure color: diamond, sapphire, emerald, turquoise."

Claude Monet spoke of the “brilliance" and "magical light” of the Mediterranean, and he said:

"A landscape hardly exists at all as a landscape, because its appearance is constantly changing; it lives by virtue of its surroundings - the air and light - which vary continually. The effect varies constantly, not only from one season to the next but from one minute to the next."

The images created by these artists, and by others before and since, attempt to capture a single moment, one person’s unique vision of that time and that place.

So then what does the idea of “eternal light” mean? In the Christian tradition, the Genesis story begins with the creation of light:

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was on the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters. And God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night."

Here, time itself begins at the moment when things are divided into light and darkness. Over the course of every year we experience the changes in light that give us the varied palette of sun and rain, warmth and chill, all the colors and textures of the seasons. But the star we orbit around remains a constant, a source of light and heat that will burn long after we’re gone. It’s only our vantage point that makes us think the light is fading or growing.

Eternal light, I believe, refers to the metaphorical light of faith, the light of the spirit that does not die. This divine spark can sustain us through times of emotional trauma, sorrowful events in our lives, and other “dark nights of the soul.” It can be frightening, or humbling, to think of what exists beyond the reach of our own lives. But it may also be comforting to find a connection to something everlasting, however we might conceive of it. The science of our time tells us that matter and energy are ultimately the same, and cannot be created or destroyed. World without end: darkness and light in perpetual balance.

The image of eternal light is compelling in its depth and strength. The life force itself, the power of the sun and the stars that men have revered for ages, is incredibly potent. In elemental mythology, there are three realms - those of earth, water and air. The fourth element is fire, belonging to the earth but not of it, nurtured by air, balanced by water. It’s the element of change, transforming one type of matter into another. It’s the alchemical force of purification, refining base metals into pure ones and melting away everything that is not essential. In the pagan tradition each element has a corresponding direction and a season - fire is associated with the south and with summer. Fire is the bringer of light, the life spark, the gift that Prometheus stole from the gods and gave to man. It’s essential to life, but it's also destructive, deceptive, and unpredictable. It is both eternal and always shifting. 

Those who came before us viewed time as cyclical, not linear. Winter leads inexorably to spring, summer to fall in a spiraling pattern that is always changing, yet always the same. I find for myself that it's helpful to gather strength from the natural world, to feel our connection to the rhythm of the seasons, moving in a continuing circle from light to dark and back again.

The concept of “seeing things in a new light” tells us that sometimes all we need to begin to solve a problem or to escape feelings of isolation, grief or despair, is a change in perspective. Sometimes this gift can be given to us by our friends, our family, or our community. We can find enlightenment in books, songs, or works of art. And sometimes the light can be a literal one, the profusion of color in a sunlit field of flowers that makes our hearts rejoice in its pure beauty.

The phrase "Lux Aeterna" is part of the Catholic Requiem, the Mass for the dead. The text is translated as:

Eternal light shine upon them O Lord with thy saints forever.
Lord who art merciful,
Grant them eternal rest and let perpetual light shine upon them.

It has been set to music by composers from the sixteenth century to the present day, first as part of the liturgy but evolving into independent pieces celebrating the triumph of the spirit beyond mortal life.

Now we'll see some images showing different perspectives on light and color, and listen to the "Lux Aeterna" from Mozart's Requiem.