Our eyes can adapt to darkness. At first, when we walk out of the sunlight into a dark cave or tunnel, we are disorientated. If we go from a brightly lit street into a dark forest at night, the darkness might even frighten us. But if we are patient, our eyes slowly get used to the darkness, and we begin to perceive our surroundings. This is the best way to overcome fear of the dark: go step by step into a dark room, wait until you are familiar with the darkness, and then you will begin to see.
This doesn’t just apply to the physical world but holds true in the spiritual world, too. Every day, we are confronted with a world of chilling, dark events. We usually do not want to see them at all. We turn away and try to force ourselves to focus on the lighter side of life. In our modern Western world, there is an aversion to any kind of darkness: we turn away from the sick, the dying, the hungry, the refugees, and those who have broken the law. We do not want to see the dark side of life. Are we afraid of it?
When Christ spoke of the eye as the body’s source of light, it was not a parable—he was referring to everyday reality. The bad world does not make us bad. Nor does outer darkness darken us inwardly. It is the way we see the world that brings us darkness or light.
The question is not “What do I see?” but “How do I see?” Do I see the world with fear, disgust, or even hatred? Or do I see the same world with compassion and love, despite all the darkness? This subtle way of looking not only illuminates us but will eventually illuminate the darkness around us.
After a long period of rebellion, grief, and depression, a mother who had lost her two children wrote, “When I look intently and lovingly into the darkness, I see light.”
Translation Laura Liska
Illustration Gilda Bartel
