Theology of a Sunset

This is an idea that came to me while I was working on the farm last summer. However it most definitely has its roots in the awesomeness and beauty that we were surrounded by while in Italy last semester (Watching the sun set into the Tyrrhenian Sea from the Alban hills just south of Rome is pretty cool, as is the Umbrian sunset from the top of a castle in Assisi, as is seeing the sun go down into the Adriatic while sailing to Greece, etc. etc.) Like I said though, this idea didn’t come to me until the hottest, driest three weeks of the summer. I’ve held off typing it out because I felt like it wasn’t quite time yet; the ideas hadn’t worked themselves all the way out. After talking it through with my good friend Sara Gudde, who came down to visit me here at UD last weekend, I feel ready. In addition, after Sara and I had visited, the sunset Sunday evening was perhaps the most amazing I have seen thus far in TX. I felt like that was God’s little way of saying it was time. Anyways enough prologue, here it goes; I may revise or add to it later but I think the time is right.

I’ve realized after coming to school here in Texas (where we have some small hills and trees and stuff), that one of the beauties of growing up in a place so flat as the flood plain of the Big Arkansas River is that you can watch the sunset. Here at UD the last 20 min of the sunset the sun is behind this big hill and a bunch of trees, but back home, if you stand in the right spot, you can watch the sun go all the way to the horizon. This makes for a different type of sunset. This summer it got really hot and dry for three weeks straight. Something about that weather consistently produced the most amazing sunsets. My friend Sarah Brenner and I had been texting each other whenever we saw a really good one and it seemed like we ended up texting each other each night for several weeks. Since I was working on the farm I got to watch them every evening and after a while an idea started to take hold. It started to sink in how much each individual sunset was an absolute masterpiece, no less than the Bernini’s or Michelangelo’s we studied in Rome. And yet these sunsets lasted at their most brilliant for only about 30 seconds before they began to fade down to dusk. If that’s how it worked with human masterpieces, that they only lasted for a few moments before fading; if Caravaggio’s only lasted for a split second, people would never cease lamenting such a tragedy. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the story of the Prodigal Son called instead the story of the Prodigal Father, the idea being that the father is so generous and forgiving with his love that it is almost wasteful, prodigal. I feel like God is that way with sunsets. Each one is a masterpiece, a treasure perfected by God’s own hand and yet we only have a split second to appreciate them before they are gone forever. As much as we may want to capture them and hang on to the beauty, we can’t. Even the best picture can’t capture the shear creative splendor and the power of experiencing an awesome sunset firsthand. All that we can do is thank God for the love He makes manifest so presently to us, and move on knowing that each evening He repeats this breathtaking spectacle of His love for us.

This idea applies to more than just sunsets or even the beauty of the natural world though. Sarah Gudde said she felt like her life was full of “sunset moments.” Whether they are the awesome view from a mountain top, the friendly smile of a stranger, or a sweet, brief friendship, these moments all pass, they are not ours to keep. We should not despair at the transitory state we live in, but rather thank God for the new gifts He is constantly giving us. Imagine if the sky was always the flaming red of a brilliant sunset, would we be able to appreciate its beauty? No; it is because it lasts only for a split second that the sunset is so remarkable to us. If we spend our time wishing we still had those gifts that have already passed we will miss all the ones God is surrounding us with in the present. In one of my favorite prayers from St. Augustine, he addresses God as “Beauty ever ancient, ever new.” I think Augustine is hitting at the same idea, God is forever (eternally) making present His love for us in new, creative ways. If each sunset was the same beauty or if life was a perpetual sunset we would not have the opportunity to realize constantly God’s love in new and completely unique ways.

This is not to say that this transitory life is perfectly satisfying. It’s not. There is some part of us that longs for permanence, for stability. I think that this is by design though, His design specifically. Without this longing we might be satisfied merely by created things rather than longing for a relationship with the creator himself. This inner longing cannot be satisfied by anything in this world but only by our God who is “ever-ancient, ever-new.”

I want to finish with a quote given to me by a friend.
Every wonderful sight will vanish; every sweet word
will fade, but do not be disheartened.

The source they come from is eternal…
growing, branching out, giving new life and new joy.

Why do you weep?
That source is within you as well…
-Jelaluddin Rumi

Take a second to appreciate the “sunset moments” in your life today, or better yet make an effort to be one for someone else. God Bless!

Let everything that lives and breaths praise the Lord -Psalm 150

This week as I was trying to come up with something worth writing a blog entry about, God in his great faithfulness bailed me out yet again and gave me an awesome experience to write on. Last Tuesday, the feast of All Souls Day, the Cistercian Abbey of Our Lady of Dallas had their annual Requiem Mass. Here's a link to the Kyrie of the Anerio Requiem that was sung so you can get an idea: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NhrUkI3X30&feature=related

The Collegium Cantorum from UD that sang the polyphonic chant for the mass was truly amazing. I once read a reflection of priest about his guardian angel, he said that his guardian angel was always drawing him to the Mass, and was most perfectly in a state of bliss during the celebration of the Eucharist. He said it was almost as if he could hear the flutter of wings when the host was elevated at the consecration. If ever there was a liturgy to evoke the fluttering of wings it was this Requiem. The simply awe-inspiring music was enhanced by the significance of the feast we were celebrating, in offering the mass for all the souls of the dearly departed. The universal church, militant, suffering, and triumphant seemed especially present in the standing room only church that night. It was as if you could feel physically the " so great cloud of witnesses surrounding us" Hebrews 12:1. What an honor and blessing to be part of something so profound.

Finally, I thought it was an awesome testament to the Catholic faith that the last two things to provoke me to post a blog entry have both been music, radically different types of music, and yet radically the same in their praise and honor of God. In our church we bring together centuries old traditions like Anerio's polyphonic chant with the contemporary praise of Matt Maher. How blessed are we that God didn't just give us one way to praise him through music, but an infinite myriad. May he be forever praised in the Kyrie's and the Hold Us Together's.