So, tell me: Did ya hear about last week’s eclipse?
Of course, that’s a joke. News of the once-in-decades celestial event was positively inescapable. It ensorcelled American culture for days on end. In some media quarters, reports on it were like a locust swarm descending on a corn field — practically all-consuming.
I’m looking at you Weather Channel. The weekend preceding the April 8th solar phenomenon, that cable TV staple was obsessed with it. I was tempted, at some points, to wonder when its meteorologists were going to take a break from eclipsomania to remark on the actual, you know, weather.
Among that network’s most prominent contributors is the delightful Stephanie Abrams, who was featured recurringly in a promotion of their eclipse coverage. One of her musings struck me especially hard:
“It is such a unique experience, it’s hard to even articulate it. …You have this … moon, earth, sun all lining up, and you’re like: ‘Oh, wait a second, there’s something way bigger out there than this tiny little experience I’m having on this planet.'”
Yowza. In Western Civilization’s current, cringily narcissistic age? That’s quite a mouthful. Thought-provoking, insightful … It’s also rather touching. And a teeny-bit heartbreaking.
So, it takes a dramatic and unusual happening in the sky like this month’s eclipse for some observers to arrive at such humbling, existentially sophisticated reflections? To discover it ain’t all about them?
To be fair to Ms. Abrams, her meditations could reflect insights she’s long entertained. Maybe the darkening sun merely reaffirmed them? Her tone, however, suggested otherwise: For her, at least, when eclipses appear, heretofore unknown and sublime revelations are unleashed.
Yet, for multitudes throughout history no heavenly spectacle was required. The realization that there are lots and lots of “bigger” realities and “bigger” concerns and “bigger” happenings than themselves? That — pardon the pun — the sun doesn’t revolve around itty-bitty them? That life is greater and more consequential than just their comparatively provincial interests and priorities? For lots of folks, that question was settled rather satisfactorily minus a solar eclipse. All they had to do was peruse the magisterial opening words of a cherished Book: “In the beginning, God …”. (Genesis 1:1)
Note, The Deity’s existence is not debated or argued out. He is simply, matter-of-factly presented; a divinely-orchestrated “Ta-daaaaa!” moment. God precedes all else. He’s engineered the indispensable arrangement that is the ground of … everything.
There you have it.
All that was and is and is to come must, therefore, be regarded as overpoweringly subordinate to Him.
Augustine of Hippo poignantly confessed: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”
The fifth-century theologian wasn’t the only person to express such sentiments:
Take genius French writer Blaise Pascal:
All men seek happiness. … [T]hey all strive towards this goal. … [T]his craving, and this helplessness … [man] tries in vain to fill with everything around him … though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.
Then there’s Evangelist Billy Graham, more folksy: “Within every one of us is what has been called ‘a God-shaped vacuum‘ … [or] God-shaped hole … that only God can fill”.
It’s been said humans are incurably “religious” critters. Homo-religiosus, as it were. One way or another they’re going to find something to scratch that spiritual itch; something loftier, grander than themselves to which they can devote themselves; from which they can draw inspiration and meaning. Dare I say it? Something they can literally — or figuratively — worship.
Over the ages, for throngs unnumbered, that “something” has been God; in many cases, the One Who is represented in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures.
For others, it’s been so-called “gods” emanating from other sources. Or a human king or political leader, a history-shaping cause, personal ambition or status, material wealth, science, education, appetites, pleasure or addictions. Not infrequently, it’s been Nature itself — a signal cosmic occurrence, like an eclipse, for instance.
That last batch of reverential options is alluded to by New Testament writer Paul when he warned against those “who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Romans 1: 25 NKJV).
It pangs me deeply to be reminded once more of so many who chiefly derive whatever transcendent significance their existence may have from the temporal world around them; or from the more inscrutable universe above them — rather than from the One Who put it all in place from the start.
A couple days after “Eclipse Monday”, a friend of mine expressed to me a more optimistic spin on humankind’s habitually misdirected focus: Perhaps, he philosophized, men’s and women’s dazzlement at this fresh celestial wonder will inch them closer to acknowledging the Almighty Designer who made it possible eons ago.
If I might paraphrase his poetic phrasing: People’s amazement at our finely-tuned “solar system” might ultimately draw them to God, preventing them from succumbing to a “soulless system”, instead.
“The heavens declare the glory of God,” the psalmist David wrote. “And the firmament shows His handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)
Again, shortly after eclipse-a-palooza, another buddy and I were texting on the topic. He lives in Texas, where “totality” (complete eclipse) was predicted. The aforementioned Ms. Abrams, assigned by her network to that sector of the nation, had been lamenting the cloudy skies which were forecast. Over and over she reiterated her hopes that conditions would cooperate and the overcast would retreat long enough to grant Texans — and her! — a clear glimpse of the impending overhead blackout.
So I asked my Lone Star pal (who also happens to be a Bible-believing Christian) if, in fact, he’d been able to eyeball the eclipse. His response was thrilling: “Yes. We prayed for a peek at it. Got sun for that hour! It’s rained every moment since!”
My admittedly slightly snarky comeback? “I hope all the pagan nature worshipers who got to see their god up close understand that they were able to do so because the True God’s people prayed…”.
“Sun, moon, and stars are God’s traveling preachers,” nineteenth-century “Prince of Preachers” Charles Spurgeon boomed ominously. “[T]hey are apostles upon their journey confirming those who regard the Lord, and judges on circuit condemning those who worship idols.”
Author Eric Sammons underscored the Weather Channel gal’s initial perspective — but pressed in further, taking it to its logical next step: The eclipse “reveals our smallness in the face of the universe and the greatness of the One who designed it for us.” (emphasis mine)
And more than a week removed from that once-in-a-generation astronomical sensation, nature’s manifestations continue conveying that heaven-sent message — not as dynamically as an eerily shuttered sun, to be sure, but continually nonetheless; pointing humankind to the God of the Universe in back of them.
“Day unto day utters speech,/And night unto night reveals knowledge,” continues the Nineteenth Psalm’s writer. “There is no speech nor language/Where their voice is not heard./ Their line has gone out through all the earth,/And their words to the end of the world.”
There’s great understanding to be gained through an eclipse, the annual cycle of seasons, sunrise, sunset, weather patterns, etc. — for those paying attention, that is; and for those willing to behold the Maker, versus merely gawping at what He has made.
