Liturgical mood lighting?

This morning David and I walked into church and discovered that it was lit only by candles and the beginnings of daylight coming in through the stained glass windows. I wondered if Father was trying something new. When I remembered I had our camera in my purse I tried to get a picture but they all came out blurry (anyone know how to get crisp, flashless pictures without a tripod?).

While we knelt to pray before Mass I found it difficult to concentrate. The strangeness of being in a quiet, dark church full of burning candles (there must have been 16 on the floor along the center aisle, one in each of the 16 windows, and 20 more around the altar) unsettled my spirit - in a good way. This is really cool, I thought; I have to blog about this! I reflected on the early Church - when they gathered to worship secretly in the catacombs, I'm sure candlelight and oil lamps were their sole source of illumination. Here we were, 2000 years later, relying on the same basic resources to aid our communal liturgy.

As Mass began Father explained: we had no electricity (how unromantic a reason!). So he had improvised, with great results... until the first reading. The reader held a candle over the lectionary and stumbled over the first few lines. I think the candle dripped wax on the book, because he looked startled. He set that candle aside and pulled one of the big ones off of its stand. He tried reading by that, but the words still weren't clear for him and then the candle put itself out. (We tried not to laugh!) Father took over at that point; "my eyes are better," he said.

When Father came out into the aisle to deliver his homily, the lights came on. His whole message was based on the symbol of candlelight, one of the treasures of our faith. Although our new state of (electric) illumination made the metaphor less poignant, I appreciated what Father said about two different words for light in Italian: luce and chiaro. Luce, he said, describes general light, such as lamplight. Chiaro is used for candlelight, and indicates "that which dispels darkness." The world is beautiful but dark, Father reflected, because the sin of man casts a pall over God's creation. We are called to dispel that darkness with the light of Christ.

This morning's experience makes me all the more eager for the Easter Vigil, my favorite Mass of the year. I look forward to the dark church full of people, the Paschal Candle being lit to symbolize Christ's resurrection, and the spread of light as that flame is shared among all present.

I leave you with the lyrics of a lovely song by Chris Rice, called "Go Light Your World":

There is a candle in every soul
Some brightly burning, some dark and cold
There is a Spirit who brings a fire
Ignites a candle and makes His home

So carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to
Light his own candle some other way
See now your sister, she's been robbed and lied to
Still holds a candle without a flame

So carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the lonely, the tired and worn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

Cause we are a family whose hearts are blazing
So let's raise our candles and light up the sky
Praying to our Father, in the name of Jesus
Make us a beacon in darkest times

So carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the helpless, deceived and poor
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world
Take your candle, and go light your world

©1993 BMG Songs,, Inc. (Admin. by Brentwood Benson Publishing, Inc.)/ASCAP

Photo credit: Comrade_S