The Light of Ethical

At this time of the year, there are many festivals that focus on light.  December 21 is typically identified as the first day of winter; it is the winter solstice, the day when the northern half of the planet is tilted farthest away from the sun and begins to reverse its tilt.  This reversal is, to many humans throughout history, the return of the light.  Days now will become longer.  It is, to many of us, a promise that spring will eventually come again and the earth will warm and produce its bounty.

I ran across a different kind of festival in my research on Ethical Culture.  The New York Meeting House was built by October 1910 (I can't find the date for the groundbreaking ceremony) and dedicated, first, to its Ethical and Religious Purposes and, then, to its Civic Uses in ceremonies on October 23 and 24, 1910.  Included in those ceremonies was a poem written by Percival Chubb, called simply "Dedication Ode."  

I'm no judge of poetry, so I can't suggest how this poem might rate in form or language, but the idea of the light is a powerful one for me.  I am sensitive to the changes that we experience as the seasons pass when the light changes (and the temperature as well).  I imagine the delight of those first humans to "capture" fire and then to discover how to "make" it, turning the dark of night into something nearer day, gaining both warmth and the comfort of light to their camp.  I imagine living more in tune with the seasons, knowing what the earth will produce as the light and the temperature changes (if the rains come on time), having my life channeled by the boundaries of nature's time, not that of humans.  

In The Ethical Society of Austin, when we mark the beginning of our Ethical discussion, we light a candle and say ritual words:  "May we kindle within ourselves the light of understanding, the warmth of compassion, and the fire of commitment."  These concepts are very meaningful to me.  When I light a candle here in my home, I sometimes utter them as a reminder of how powerful such a light can be. I light a candle and think of how much such a tiny light can mean when the world is dark and so are the hearts of men.

One thing that our candle lighting ritual does not encompass is that comfort that humans have felt in the presence of a burning light.  It pushed back the darkness and gave a slight sense of increased safety.  It included hope that the time of darkness would end and the full light of day would return, but for now . . . just for a while . . . the world is not so dark.

Percival Chubb's "Dedication Ode" spoke to me as the lighted candle does.  He talked about the nature of the light that he saw in the Meeting House, emphasizing that it was not supernatural, but produced by humans:

Flame of the kindled heart by which we love;
Light of the single mind by which we see.

He then calls on that light to bind us together:

Blend all our separate lights to one great whole
As in one perfect fellowship of soul;
That in the pure effulgence we may see
The splendor of the prophecy
Of man harmonious in the true society.

It is, however, the ending of the poem which speaks to me with the strongest emotion:

When low our spirit's flickering flame may burn
And our feet falter on their starward way.
Hither our steps unwittingly shall stray.
Hither our longing turn.
Here to the quiet and the calm;
Here to the peace . . . the light . . . the fire.

The peace, the light, the fire--the comfort that comes from Ethical when we see each other with understanding and compassion, committing ourselves to cherish the best in each other with our own best selves.