Monday, May 3

I have been having significant problems with my eyes this week: they are highly sensitive to light, and I am wearing dark glasses, even indoors. So, naturally, I've been thinking a lot about light lately, both what we know as physical light, and what you might call metaphysical light.

We are not well-suited to seeing light. The sun is 98 million miles away, and it still blinds us. One small eye infection renders us incapable of living in any kind of light. Dante had to go through both Hell and Purgatory before being able to properly see the light.

Why can't we see the light, even though it's all around us? We are obviously made to see it, but somehow we cannot; at least, not without much effort and training.

Artists study light for years before they can accurately represent objects illuminated by it. Philosophers work at their studies for long hours, trying to argue through to the light of truth. Students spend months searching for it in their texts, and occasionally finding the divine insight that they seek.

And, for some reason, this leads me to think of Moses, asking to see the glory of God. He wanted God, he earnestly desired to see the light. God passed in front of him, only allowing Moses to catch a glimpse of the back of His glory. Even that little glimpse so illuminated Moses that when he came down from the mountain, carrying the commandments, his face shone so that none could bear to look on him.

What did Moses see? What would the back of the glory of God look like?

I wonder if the light Moses saw was the Star, shining over a small stable, announcing that God walked among us.

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