Hunker down to rise up

I imagine one reason we are drawn to the sun setting is that this marks an unmistakable time of transition. Of course, all times are times of transition, but we do not often notice. The sun at noon and the sun at 1 p.m. are markers of a rotating Earth, but most of us miss that. However, as the sun appears to move behind the mountain range, with shifting colors, reflections in the clouds, and light refracting through the atmosphere, we are witnesses to transformation.

It strikes me that we bear witness to this transformation without fear. The sun is vanishing, night is coming on, but most people do not seem concerned about that, do not seem afraid of the dark. This might be a different story if we believed that this were the final bow, that it was the last time we would see the light. However, we trust that the Earth will keep turning, that the light will return, and the sun will rise. Therefore we do not react in fear to the growing shadows, and instead we see the transition as an opportunity for letting go of striving and achieving, a time to hunker down, to get quiet, and to rest.

What if in times of transition, even times that seem to be moving us into shadows, we could trust that light will rise and/or we will rise into the light? What if instead of ignoring or fighting the transformation (imagine people resisting or fighting sunsets), we stopped and bore witness, we remained mindfully, prayerfully present to the transformation? What if we looked for glimpses of beauty in the shifts and changes? And what if, as we trust that light will return and we will see more clearly again, we allowed for such times to be reminders to let go of achieving and striving, to hunker down for a bit, to get quiet and listen, to rest in preparation for the rising?

In shifts toward the shadows, Jesus did not fight nor flee. Jesus attended to the spirit, opened to higher power and deeper wisdom. Often, while it was still dark, Jesus chose conscious contact with God and prayed (“Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God” — Luke 6:12). And in the praying, in the listening, the sun rose, the light shone, which empowered him to love, heal and bring hope to others. Some of his disciples practiced this on the Sunday after he had been crucified. These women had watched the encroaching shadows of Jesus’ crucifixion and death in the face of failed religious and governmental leadership and a fickle crowd. They then waited in the unknowing, not fixing nor fleeing nor fighting, but hunkering down, listening, resting and honoring Sabbath. And still in the pre-dawn that Sunday morning, they chose to journey to the tomb, to be present to grief and pain. Then, just like their Rabbi Jesus, they saw the sun rise, they experienced new light and new possibilities shining, and they carried this light to others!

Faith communities have moved through some of our most solemn holy days and celebrative feast days in physical separation from one another as the whole world abides in pandemic, great loss, insecurity, confusion, fear and sadness. So much in us wants to fight and flee, to somehow fast-forward through this time. This is not the transition any of us signed up for! However, we are reminded of the wisdom of the Jesus way, the wisdom of what some of us do each day as the sun sets and shadows close in: Be present, pray, ask for divine wisdom and strength, listen, hunker down for a bit, and look for beauty so that we will not only see the light rise, but we will be part of light rising, embodying and enacting creative, beautiful, and life-giving justice and love in the world. No matter who we are or where we are on life’s journey, the Easter story reminds us that resurrection, new life, is available to, in, and through each and all of us here and now. We can choose daily to receive, share and shine!