“Shine on me, Lord, and I shall be light like the day.” So goes one line of an ancient prayer from the Syrian Orthodox tradition. I found it in a 1998 book called “Gifts of the Spirit” co-authored by Philip Zaleski and Paul Kaufman.
This prayer, when repeated often in the early morning before dawn, can build anticipation of daybreak. Then, when the sky lightens and the sun rises, it comes as a blessing. The day has started with an act of worship the influence of which can be felt throughout the day’s remaining hours.
In its root meaning, the word “day” has a vital connection with light. It comes from an ancient Indo-European root meaning “burning” or “shining.” Making this radical association between day and fire and illumination can lead us to a deeper appreciation of what each day can be.
All traditions value inner enlightenment as one of the great spiritual goods. Any day that brings greater light to one’s soul has special value. It counts as a privileged time among the many days we experience.
Last weekend the season of daylight savings time came to an end and we entered a period when we will see less natural light during the day. And as the winter months approach, the days will become shorter still, rationing the daylight hours. It can test our spirit to lack longer periods of light for week after week until the spring arrives.
How can we live by the light under these conditions of diminishing availability? Perhaps by asking in prayer for inner illumination. That’s what the next line of the prayer does: “The creation is full of light; give light also to our hearts that they may praise you with the day and the night.”
It’s not only people who can see with their eyes that can receive this light. People who are physically blind can, of course, hold that light within them. My friend Paul strikes me that way. At a recent meeting in a subway station, I was again impressed with his spirit of buoyancy and concern for other people.
Paul is the same person who, in his days as a college student, took part in a peaceful demonstration against the Vietnam War and when the police refused to take him with the other demonstrators, demanded that they arrest him too. That took courage, a sign of inner light, as he prepared for handcuffs and a jail cell.
The request to have the Lord shine on you will perhaps remind you of one of the blessings frequently given at the end of a liturgical service. “May the Lord make his face to shine upon you,” the liturgical leader prays. Again, the underlying image is of light flowing from God to the upturned countenance of the worshiper.
The Syrian Orthodox prayer expects more, however. In saying “I shall become light,” the person praying anticipates a personal transformation. It’s as if, through God’s action, the darkness in him or her will be reduced and the newly available space taken over by light. It’s a way of becoming a sun, and thus becoming able to shine one’s inner light on everyone you meet.
Philip Zaleski suggests that few people actually greet the day joyfully and live in the light. Instead, he writes, “Most of us, I suspect, wake up in a fog, go to work in a funk, come home in a fuss, and fall asleep in a fret.”
Many people undoubtedly have some days like that, 24-hour periods when everything goes wrong. But as a description of an average day this strikes me as unduly pessimistic. After all, many Americans begin the day or end it by meditation, prayer, or reflection about God in their lives. They perform other spiritual exercises, too, as they call to mind the divine presence. The day may turn out to be not all light but, at some moments at least, we can feel ourselves illumined by it.
“Shine on me, Lord, and I shall be light like the day.” Those who made this prayer their own many centuries ago knew its power to transform their lives. Perhaps it can serve us, too, their fellow seekers after enlightenment so many years later.
Richard Griffin