-- Psalm 148:3 (ICEL)

We reflect today on the recent "Ring of Fire" eclipse of the sun, visible at its fullness in San Antonio October 13.

We were part of a cheering crowd. On the day of the eclipse, we gathered with several hundred others at a city park. Some folks lined up to look through a telescope as the moon slipped slowly across the face of the sun. Others just watched through their eclipse glasses, sitting on lawn chairs, park benches, or the ground.

At first, it seemed that only a small bite had been taken out of the sun’s disk. Then that bite grew larger and larger, until only a “crescent sun” could be seen hanging in the sky. Finally, just before noon, the moment arrived: As the moon slid fully in front of the sun, leaving just the “ring of fire” visible all around the moon, the crowd cheered and applauded.

It was thrilling to see that eclipse. It was stunning to see the sun transformed right before our carefully-shielded eyes. And yet, I asked myself: Why were we applauding? The moon was simply following its orbit, as it does day after day. The earth was turning on its axis. Nothing new there. The sun was in its usual place at midday in October.

We live in a world of wonders, wonders that we often take for granted. Yes, the eclipse was special. But shouldn’t we be applauding every day when the sun rises to light our world? Cheering each night when the moon crosses the heavens? The late poet Mary Oliver, after listing life’s “multiplicity of forms” from foxes to water lilies, writes, “It must be a great disappointment / to God if we are not dazzled at least ten / times a day.”*

*“Good Morning,” pp. 21-23, in Blue Horses (Penguin Books, 2014).

Coastal cumulus clouds would float across the sunny skies, restructuring moment to moment, often portraying images of animals, cartoon characters, or amorphous representations calling my creative imagination.

As a child, lying on freshly cut “carpet grass” I remember being entertained solely by my fascination with nature. The same sensation recently piqued my imagination, watching the annular eclipse develop with interest and awe.

First images of the moon dipping into the top of the sun reminded me of an orange Halloween cat face with pointed ears: “Look! The clouds passing by make the sun look like a cat face!” Then, with intrigue, as the moon gracefully slipped down over the sun’s face:

“…a basket full of graces…”

“…a hammock for angels…”

“…God’s wide smile…”

And finally, “…a totally perfect glowing ring: God showing off Divine wholeness.”

I wonder, just what was God’s purpose in showing off momentary revelations of this beauty of nature? Was it a reminder of how much we take for granted – God’s bountiful gifts of light and darkness to mark our days? A reminder of Divine presence, even when we mindlessly slog through life? A prompting from God: “Look, I didn’t forget you – my steadfast burning love for you is more awe-full than this circle of fire you see now”?

And so, with fascination, I again pray Psalm 148:

--by Jan

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