I am the Light of the World

We set out (by the Light)

Scripture

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’ Then the Pharisees said to him, ‘You are testifying on your own behalf; your testimony is not valid.’ Jesus answered, ‘Even if I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is valid because I know where I have come from and where I am going, but you do not know where I come from or where I am going. You judge by human standards; I judge no one. Yet even if I do judge, my judgement is valid; for it is not I alone who judge, but I and the Father who sent me. In your law it is written that the testimony of two witnesses is valid. I testify on my own behalf, and the Father who sent me testifies on my behalf.’ Then they said to him, ‘Where is your Father?’ Jesus answered, ‘You know neither me nor my Father. If you knew me, you would know my Father also.’ He spoke these words while he was teaching in the treasury of the temple, but no one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come. 

(John 8:12-20)

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.’ When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, ‘Go, wash in the pool of Siloam’ (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. 

(John 9:1-7)

Reflection

We are standing shoulder to shoulder, bumping into each other every time we start to move again. We started off together as a group, our small band of pilgrims clustered in the autumn dusk at the edge of the plaza. But now we are walking among others, mixing and mingling as we stop and go. My mother was next to me a moment ago, and now she is gone. Our tour guide was ahead of us, tall and easy to follow, but now he is somewhere beyond in the crowd, too.

Yet we keep walking in the same direction. So we are never lost.

Each of us holds a candle, blue and white, surrounded by a paper wind protector printed with the prayers and songs for tonight’s procession. I spin the candle slowly as we walk and pray, stop and sing, so I can read the words on every side. Whenever we get to the words Ave, Ave, Ave, Maria, the whole crowd raises their candles high, a sea of tiny lights swelling into an ocean.