March 22, 2024

Reflection / John Shaughnessy

A hope for the total solar eclipse: May the wonder of that event continue in our lives

John ShaughnessyIt was one of those moments that sometimes makes me wonder about the state of humanity.

An Indianapolis television news segment was focusing on how a central Indiana community is preparing for the total solar eclipse on April 8 when it showed a grinning man promoting a T-shirt he is hawking, a T-shirt with this message on its front: “I got mooned!”

Not exactly the kind of special tribute for an event that has been described by some as “an unforgettable celestial celebration, a rare and awe-inspiring experience that transcends boundaries and unites people from all walks of life.”

Not wanting to let the T-shirt guy rain on this approaching parade of celestial spectacle, hope, hyperbole and joy—and let’s offer a small prayer that it doesn’t actually rain that day—I’ve tried to stay focused on the one feeling, the one experience that will bring countless people from across the country and perhaps from around the world to Indiana, which is firmly in the main path of this total solar eclipse.

That feeling? That experience?

Wonder.

For one afternoon, for a period of just less than four minutes, for the first time in nearly 1,200 years in our area, according to some researchers—a sense of wonder will unite many people, all of them hoping for clear skies.

It all leads to another hope that I have for myself, for all of us—to not let that sense of wonder burn out after that day, to let it continue to brighten our lives.

Indeed, knowing we are all made in the image and likeness of God, wonder is at the heart of our Creator. We find it there in a sunrise, in a hike through the woods, in standing by the ocean, in looking up at the stars, in appreciating the incredible intricacies of how our bodies and our minds work.

We also find it in the way that Jesus lived.

Jesus tells us to never take another day for granted—to savor each day instead of thinking that we can keep drawing from an unlimited bank of days. He lived his life with a sense of urgency—a breathlessness—to teach, heal and connect with people in the limited time that God gave him on Earth. He also found time to slip away from the world, heading into nature to pray and replenish his spirit. In living this way, he offered us the best example of how to live.

In the hectic pace and the demanding routine of our lives, the ever-present challenge is to never lose sight of the beauty and wonder in the world that God has created, to never lose sight of the special relationships that mark our lives, to never lose sight of the potential for something new and different in us.

So let the beauty and the wonder of the world continue to take your breath away. Savor that sunrise. Take that hike. Stare up at the stars. Or get that breathless feeling by doing something you’ve always wanted to do—take music lessons, write a story, lace up your running or dancing shoes, or make the first stroke on a canvas.

In doing something that leaves us breathless, the senses heighten, the heart beats faster, the adrenaline rushes. And for a moment, life is vivid, intense and breathtaking again.

Yet the true gift comes when we strive to begin each day knowing the beauty and the wonder of the world will be revealed to us in at least some small way—and when we stay open to the opportunities for renewal and discovery in our lives.

And maybe that renewal and discovery comes in our relationships, too. We take a new look and see the gift in a spouse or a friend we have taken for granted. We reach out to someone who has hurt us or someone we have hurt, seeking to find a way to heal the relationship, to heal ourselves.

Maybe we even take a fresh look at our relationship with God. Think again—as if you are learning this news for the first time—that God loves us so much that he sent his Son to us, a Son who lives in this world and who still wants to live in us.

It can leave you breathless, full of wonder. Let that feeling last.
 

(John Shaughnessy is the assistant editor of The Criterion and the author of Then Something Wondrous Happened.)

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