Grace comes into the soul, as the morning sun into the world;
first a dawning, then a light,
and at last the sun in his full and excellent brightness.
There is a sort of pregnant pause at the exact moment light splits the darkness. It’s a brief moment in which all creation seems to bow in a great and reverent silence. It’s as if all those who witness the light’s return praise the Holy Feet on which it comes. From my window I see this gladsome response as birds lift up and take to wing and as the squirrels leap high in the trees before the deliberate busyness of their respective days begin. Could it be then that our first response should be to celebrate the gift of the new day and thank its Holy Giver before ere we begin anew. It was certainly so with the Celts who believed creation was not simply just a gift, but also “a self-giving of God whose image was to be found deep within all living things.” Why then isn’t that the order of the day in our world? Perhaps it’s because modern man lives so far away from the natural world that he feels little to no reverence for Creation and therefore has become alienated from God’s living presence. J. Philip Newell put it this way, “divorced from the brilliance of the first day man lives in a type of exile from his true self and what is deepest in creation.” He explains further that in this exile, he chooses to ignore the yearning for the light that stirs within himself and chooses instead to follow life’s superficial distractions.
But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you. . . ~Job 12:7 ✝