I am the light of the world.” – John 8:12

“You are the light of the world.” – Matt. 5:14 (NIV)

We are lost at sea – well, not exactly. The Captain has just made an announcement, over the intercom, giving us our latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates, so we’re not, technically, “lost.” Perhaps a better word would be directionless. That is to say, as of this moment in time, our ship (the MS Westerdam) doesn’t have a defined port of call, or even a heading to guide us in any particular direction.

What was supposed to be a two-week Holland America cruise from Hong Kong to Shanghai has now morphed into “the cruise to nowhere” because of something called coronavirus disease (COVID-19). What started out as a localized virus in Wuhan, China, has now slowly spread to many other countries . . . and cruise ships. One such ship, the Diamond Princess is currently being quarantined in Yokohama, Japan, with several dozen passengers having tested positive for the disease. Currently, there are over 35,000 cases of coronavirus worldwide, and over 700 deaths.

This morning, I went to Mass and personally prayed for acceptance of our current situation. Together, with Father Robert and the rest of the congregation, we prayed for all those who have been affected by this thing called coronavirus. Father read from the Gospel according to Matthew, the passage commonly referred to as the Sermon on the Mount. Whereas, in several verses from John’s Gospel, Jesus proclaims, “I am the light of the world,” here in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus seems to be passing – or, better yet, sharing – the torch of His Divine Light to each of us, when He says, “You are the light of the world.” That really stuck with me.

Father Robert followed the Gospel with a sermon focused on the Blessed Virgin Mary, referred to by sailors as the Star of the Sea. He asked us to consider how alike a twinkling star is to a lighthouse. The beaming light at the top of a lighthouse rotates somewhat slowly. But, from a distance, its light pierces the darkness very much like a twinkling star, only slower. To sailors, Mary represents the twinkling Star of the Sea that will  guide them across stormy seas, or serve as their beacon when they are lost at sea.

Metaphorically, Mary is the guiding light to her Son, Jesus. Her entire raison d’être was not just to bring Jesus into this world – but, far more importantly, to bring the world to Him. From the first star that beckoned the three kings and the shepherds to Bethlehem, where Mary held her newborn Son in her arms, until the cross at Calvary, where Mary held the body of her crucified Son, she has always beckoned us to Him. Her eternal prayer seems to be that, by her guiding light, we may all come to discover the One who is truly “the light of the world.”

But today’s Gospel wasn’t telling us to find the light within Jesus – it was Jesus telling us to find the light within ourselves. He tells us:

Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matt. 5:16, NIV)

Jesus is charging us with the task of demonstrating goodness to others in everything we do. In that way, we shine “our light” throughout the world, thereby glorifying God at the same time. This is the ultimate win-win-win outcome (what I call The Pono Principle).

By no coincidence, today’s 1st Reading from the Book of Isaiah spoke exactly to that:

Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and the harbourless into thy house: when thou shalt see one naked, cover him, and despise not thy own flesh.

Then shall thy light break forth as the morning.” (Isaiah 58:7-8, DRC)

The fact that this Reading actually used the word harbourless is astounding to me, for that is exactly what we are at this time, a ship without a harbour (or even a destination, for that matter). It also spoke to the very real need to care for one another as we, collectively, continue on this “cruise to nowhere.” Not everyone is as “accepting” of our current situation as I may be. Which got me to thinking: What can I do to possibly relieve the tension some of my fellow passengers may be experiencing right now?

Recently, I wrote to the Captain, explaining that I was the author of The Pono Principle, a book about doing the right thing in all situations, and that I had a Master’s Degree in Human Services Counseling: Life Coaching. I told him that I would be happy, and honored, to volunteer to speak to the passengers and crew of the Westerdam on the subject of Acceptance, should he find that service of value. Those of us in addiction recovery know fully well that acceptance is the foundation upon which sincere, lifelong sobriety is built. Considering the day-to-day uncertainty of our ship’s next move, it is no surprise to me that I haven’t heard back from the Captain. To suggest that he is knee-deep in alligators right now would be a gross understatement.

My takeaway from today’s Mass is that I am still a light to shine for others, regardless of how many (or how few) are within its rays. All I have the ability to do, right now, at this moment, is to offer myself to those who need to be comforted, or just listened to. To whom may I be a light today? Perhaps to my dining room table neighbors, who are older than I, and less accepting of our current circumstances than I. Perhaps to our recovery group that will be meeting later today, who might be tempted to drink during this stressful time we are experiencing. Perhaps the best that I can do today is to politely greet every person I walk by, just as an assurance that, together, we will get through this.

There is a port awaiting us, although we see it not at this moment. There is a star waiting to guide us, a lighthouse to show us the way, and a harbour to welcome us home. Until such time, we must be a light for each other, and enfold our arms around one another – in the same way Mary held her newborn baby boy, beneath a star, a star that guided all of humanity to His light.