In the liturgy of the Easter Vigil, there is an extraordinary, beautiful moment right at the very beginning. Once darkness has fallen outside, a fire is lit. The flame from this fire is then transferred to a candle, after which the priest celebrating the liturgy carries the great Paschal candle into the church, which is immersed in darkness.
The Church, in darkness and silence, filled with expectant people, seems to be a symbol of the Church as a whole – which, deprived of clear light, immediately sinks into darkness, into confusion, fear, and uncertainty. Here are people stripped of their daily labels, deprived of ranks and social functions, indistinguishable in this darkness by anything – clothing, salary, a good car – simply people, full of the beauty of ordinary humanity, sometimes coughing, sometimes gently rocking from heel to toe. All turned in one direction, gazing at the entrance to the church, yearning for what is about to happen, waiting in this extraordinary, Easter “advent.” And finally, it is heard, it is seen – priests, acolytes, deacons, altar servers, the celebrant with the Paschal candle. The flame is still somewhere far away, but it is already there, already transforming reality – it is enough that it appears, and even the darkness itself “becomes different.” There is already hope within it.
And again, amid the singing about “light,” another miracle unfolds before our eyes: the multiplication of that very light. From the Paschal candle to the candles held by the people, the flame is passed along. The faithful carefully share it with one another. They look on – will it go out? Will the small flame disappear under the influence of some gust of air? This is my responsibility for faith – when I receive it, when it is given to me freely, I should pass it on to someone else. “Freely you have received; freely give” – this is how the mystical, mysterious, and profoundly beautiful chain of God’s great, unconditional Love unfolds! I am responsible for carrying the light forward, for being an instrument. If I fail to do so, I weaken the evangelical chain. But even that is not enough – I should seek, I should turn and look behind me: is there someone nearby who does not yet have the Light of Christ? If so, I should immediately share it from my own candle. The fire leaps, the fire unites, the fire explains the mystery of the Three Persons of God’s Presence beside me: three flames can merge into one.
And then this extraordinary, beautiful liturgy of the Paschal feast continues, bursting with joy and light at “Glory to God in the highest…”, rejoicing in the Resurrection, joyfully proclaiming Alleluia.
May we all, in times of darkness, in difficult times, and sometimes even in sad ones, see the Light – and whenever we notice it, may we pass it on. We are the light of the world. Let us shine!