Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
Sister Marge. I knew her only for a short time while I lived in Toledo very early in my ministry, but I remember her. I met her through an interfaith center for peace and justice. Nuclear weapons were a central issue of the group. I remember calculating that the U.S. had the explosive equivalent of 2,000 pounds of dynamite for every man, woman and child in the country. It was unsettling to imagine 6,000 pounds in my basement (we had a newborn) and similar amounts in every basement in our neighborhood. It disturbs me that we are once again talking about growing rather than shrinking nuclear arsenals. I thought we had gotten past the illusion of naming such weapons “peacemaker” and pretending they were usable.
(The irony of calling a mobile missile system with ten independently targeted 300 kiloton nuclear warheads on each missile “Peacemaker” was lessened only somewhat by changing it’s name at the last minute to “Peacekeeper.” For comparison, the bomb dropped on Hiroshima was a “mere” 15 kilotons. Each one of these missiles contained more destructive power than all the explosives used in World War II, including the bombs used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.)
Now you might expect me to say, in light of this text, that Sister Marge shone with a heavenly light, but that’s not really my point. There were two groups of people working together in this organization: those who were people of faith, and those who did not share any religious expression of faith. What struck me was the difference between these two groups. Both were deeply concerned about the threat of nuclear weapons, but there was a hope in those who were rooted in a faith tradition that seemed absent in the others. Perhaps this was just our particular group of people, but there seemed to be a sense among the people of faith that the human story was not in our hands alone. They feared humanity’s capacity for destruction, yet lived in the light of God’s goodness and love.
All our stories are different. Some of us are more naturally optimistic; to others the world seems darker. Some have been made more fearful by life’s experiences; others emboldened. We have gifts that differ – and burdens. But people of faith stand on ground that has been warmed by the sun. The face of God, radiant with grace and love, shapes us. It eases the furrowed brow, it warms the spirit, it brightens the face as does the smile of a child, a friend, a beloved.
Perhaps Sunday morning is nothing more than the child who calls out into the darkness at bedtime not really wanting water, just another glimpse of the parent’s face.
And God is there for us, saying: “Arise, shine; for your light has come.”