I cannot say which I love best about the light:
that it gathers itself even in what goes hidden,
no stranger to the seed, the stone, the labyrinth of night,
or that it is wildly generous in where it lands, glad the same to
touch the face of the one in laughter, the one in tears, the one in trouble,
in fear, in pain.But it may yet be that this is what woos me most about the light:
that it knows what to do with distance, how it arcs across the space between a heart
and a heart, illuminatingly that ache through which the farthest of stars might be seen.

⁃ Jan Richardson

Last week as activists came together in Missouri, I was with activists in DC gathering together to coalesce around topics that breathe life into us, as others try to restrict that very breath.

This year, we celebrated the 10th Anniversary of the Many Paths Gathering Space an interfaith center for contemplation, spiritual healing, and community at Creating Change, the nation's largest queer-centered conference. This space was created because of the ways religion has been a catalyst for reform, in ways that harm and in ways that heal. We know that in working toward freedom in the public space, we also have to work for freedom in the soul. And so, as a group, we held prayer vigils, we sung, we talked about the Bible, the Torah, and offered a space for daily Muslim prayer. We created walls to uplift queer saints who have shown us the way, and offered space for people to write down their prayers. On our altar, we had a station of dissolving paper where people could come and write something down to let go of, reminding all of us that we don't have to hold it all alone. Many people came right to this station and left, needing only to leave something behind, in which they could not carry alone anymore.

As we consider what it means to be a people of daybreak, daylight, and, these days, as we often sit in the long shadows of evening, I’m reminded of the need for us to tend to the space between our hearts — to ache, to laugh, to subvert, and to release.

Today, in the light of evening, what woos you about the light? What tends to the sighs of your heart? What binds you to the inner and outer work of a faith rooted in love but too often used for harm?

With you in the shadows,
Pastor Lauren

The word φῶς (phōs) appears more than 70 times in the Greek New Testament. When translated literally, it comes into English as light. As with most words, φῶς has more to it than a single-word definition. It carries more meaning than “this is that.” In scripture, the light can be the illumination that comes from the sun or from a candle. It can also serve as a metaphor for awareness—a spark of revelation.

In the season of Epiphany we celebrate the arrival of the Magi who saw a star on the night of Jesus’ birth and followed its light to him. In that light, Jesus is revealed to all of us outside of his immediate community. God is made flesh for all of us who will receive this revelation, no matter who or where we are.

In this season of Epiphany, we are invited to be φῶς. Illuminating love and grace and hope. Bringing awareness to injustice and oppression. Revealing God’s enduring presence. The light is in us and all around us. The light is a gift we are given to carry into the world.

Last week, we began our series on light with DeMarco Davidson, and for the next 5 weeks we will continue to embrace light as we wrestle with how to be light for our times in the most expansive ways we can find it in scripture and in life.

In Light,
Rev. Tijuana Gray