A couple years ago, I was taking a marine biology course.
Enchanted by the many fall nights I’d spent twirling my hand through the water to make my own mini light shows, I started a project on marine bioluminescence.
Is there anything closer to magic than watching blue specks of fiery light swirl between your fingers, as if ignited by your touch?
The ocean has always been my favorite place to feel God.
Each time I arrive at the water, something happens that feels like a direct outreach from the divine: the serendipitous timing of a seal poking its dog-like snout above the surface, or the humbling swells of the sea before a nor’easter.
During my project research, I read something that felt more a little more theological than scientific.
The National Ocean Service defines bioluminescence as, “the production and emission of light by a living organism.”
Now, they’re talking about visual light emitted by sea creatures: glowing jellyfish, sparkling marine plankton, dazzling squids.
But couldn’t “the production and emission of light by a living organism” be an overly biological and laughably scientific way to describe what Jesus taught?
A firefly squid (image from nytimes)
The Bible is full of verses about light.
This language of light is used to describe God’s creation:
(Genesis 1:3 “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”)
It is how Jesus speaks of himself (John 8:12 “I am the light of the world.”)
And it is also how Jesus speaks about us (Matthew 5:14, “You are the light of the world”).
We are living organisms. At our best, we produce and emit light.
That light is the essence of who we are.
That light is a product of the Holy Spirit, an expression of our authentic selves in alignment with God.
On the other hand, darkness is just the absence of light.
Light is the outpouring of energy into that dark, cavernous void where light is scarce.
I’ve often heard that the opposite of love is fear.
That fear manifests itself in disguises: as anger, distrust, or violence— all those unpleasant expressions of what we call “evil.”
Trying to uncover the biological processes that result in glow-in-the-dark fish led me to discover that the chemical compound responsible for bioluminescence is called “luciferin.”
Luciferin, derived from the latin Lucifer.
At first, I was taken aback by this etymological shock.
This word that explains how and why light is produced is derived from the word that represents all evil?
So, I googled “Lucifer,” which apparently translates to light-bearer or “bringer of the light.”
The devil? A bringer of light?
“Lucifer” is the name for the devil before he fell from heaven.
As the Vatican Archives say, “Satan was at first a good angel, made by God: The devil and the other demons were indeed created naturally good by God, but they became evil by their own doing'” (CCC 391).
Could this mean that we humans, too, are inherently good, if even the devil began as an angel?
That we, as inherently light-filled people, have the ability to bring light into the darkness? To bring love into spaces overtaken by fear and hate? To be human expressions of Godly love?
Dear God,
May you give us the insight and wisdom to seek and find the places where our light is most needed.
In this search, we will likely stumble into darkness, for our love is needed most where love is hard to find.
When we find ourselves in this darkness, please help us to not be overwhelmed.
But instead, help us to find the confidence and strength to keep producing and emitting Your Light.
Allow us to remember that your everlasting light is always with us, surrounding us, and ahead of us- even when that is difficult to see.
Open our eyes to where we are needed most, and how we can best be diligent lightworkers at your divine fingertips.
Thank you, God, for all that you are and for all that you do.
Lead us
and use us.
Amen.