A Light in the Darkness

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Dear God,

As the new year approaches I look at the world, my community and my life and see death, destruction, hatred and strife. Even in the Church, where we are told to live in harmony with one another and to, whenever possible, live at peace with everyone else, there is much dissent. “Do not be conquered by evil, but conquer evil with good,” St. Paul tells us, but the evil seems overwhelming, and I cannot seem to summon enough good to conquer it.

And yet you tell us that we are the light of the world, and that we are to let that light shine before others. As difficult as I find it to see myself as a light, some people in my life are examples I can try to emulate. One was my co-worker Debbie Candelaria, who died Dec. 4. I only knew her in passing, but others in the office spoke glowingly about how considerate she was of others, and how she reflected the meaning of her surname, which means candle in Spanish. Hearing their stories of her, it was obvious that she shined a light in the everyday life here at the Pastoral Center.

When I shift my focus from the gloom I can see other candles, many of which pop up unexpectedly: the email I received just yesterday complimenting something I had written; the reader who asked for a correction, not assuming we had done it maliciously but instead graciously acknowledging how easy it is to make such a mistake; the man who helped me when I was lost without making me feel foolish for not having noticed my surroundings; the waitress who recognizes me as a regular at the restaurant and treats me with that little bit more warmth so that I feel welcome rather than just one more customer.

And, too, there are my friends. I think especially of the one I recently called in a panic for something I needed, and who dropped it off the next morning on her way to work; and those who were willing to be the guinea pigs for a new project I am undertaking; and those who helped me with this column. Often I am too blind to see the light my family and friends shine on my life, although I am thankful when it pierces the pall of my everyday life.

The wars in other places cause me to weep because I am all but helpless in their face. I pray, I send money to charities that minister in those lands, I write to my congressional members to ask that they support policies to bring peace. The conflicts in my own community, in our Church, in my family also are matters of prayer, but with these I must find the courage to take action. While I’m very capable of finding fault, I find it much harder to work to resolve an issue.

So, come Jan. 1, my New Year’s resolutions will be to choose one problem in the community where I can volunteer my time and talents to resolve. There are many: poverty and homelessness and environmental concerns. I know I can’t solve any of these by myself, but one of my heroes said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love” – and look what she accomplished!

For the Church, I will take to heart the warning of St. Jerome, that “ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ,” and do my best to learn more of the Bible and teach it by word and example.

For family and friends, I will resolve every day to light my candle rather than curse the darkness, to offer them the same illumination they give me. I also want to shine for strangers whenever possible: letting someone in front of me in line, offering a hand to someone who needs help or a smile in response to a frown. These gestures are not grand, but perhaps in a small way they will brighten the darkness.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.