Celestial Event
FROM THE RECTOR
Two Sundays ago, when I read Mark’s account of the Passion, I could not help but wonder about the darkening of the sky that is recorded while Jesus hung on the cross. Was this an eclipse like the one that will sweep across our state on Monday?
The short answer is no. A solar eclipse would not have been possible during the crucifixion because an eclipse only happens during a New Moon, and the Passover, which is unequivocally tied to Jesus’ death, always takes place when the moon is full. Also, the maximum possible amount of time for totality is a little over seven and a half minutes—far short of the three hours recorded in the gospel accounts. So, whatever it was that happened at the cross, it cannot be explained by a coincidental solar eclipse.
Some people enjoy looking for other phenomena that may be responsible for the darkening of the sky, like a dust storm, volcanic eruption, or even thick cloud cover, but I am more interested in exploring the theological connection between Jesus’ death and the dimming of the sun’s light and the gospel tradition’s intentional linking of the two. In other words, while there may be a scientific explanation for what happened, I find exploring the theological reasons behind it more attractive.
The Bible is full of recorded celestial events and prophecies that are given theological significance. According to Matthew, Jesus’ birth is announced to some Eastern sages through the rising of a star. Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Joel all describe moments when various signs in the heavens will bring dismay to the people. In the synoptic gospel accounts, Jesus stands in that same apocalyptic prophetic tradition, warning his followers that his return will be a time when the sun and moon are darkened and the stars fall from heaven.
Whether the blood moon of a lunar eclipse, the brightness of the sun disappearing in midday, or the brilliance of a far-off supernova in the night sky, our spiritual ancestors knew how to make godly sense of what happened among the celestial bodies. I wonder, as our scientific understanding of what takes place in the sky has increased and our dependence on those heavenly signs in our daily lives for things like navigation and weather forecasts has decreased, whether we have grown out of touch with what God is communicating to us in moments like Monday’s solar eclipse.
Seven years ago, when the path of a total solar eclipse came through the southeastern United States, my family and I drove to go and experience it, and I am glad we did. I have never experienced anything like it, and I promised myself at that time that I would never miss the opportunity to see another one. Although you can find articles and guides to what the event will be like online, neither they nor I can do it justice. There is an indescribable energy that fills the air and everyone in the path of totality. Here in Fayetteville, we will be close to that path, and we will certainly enjoy the strange partial dimming of the sun’s light, but I cannot recommend highly enough the value getting into the path of totality, even if it means fighting atrocious traffic just to get to a random parking lot for four minutes of the experience. Our office will be closed on Monday because all of our staff asked to take the day off to see the eclipse.
That brings me back to question of what happened to the sun during the crucifixion and why it mattered to the gospel writers. I do not have a physical or scientific explanation for why the sun was darkened during that time, but I do recognize the universally arresting effect that a total solar eclipse has on those who experience it. By some estimates, the population of our state will double on Monday as eclipse-seekers crowd our highways, hotels, and parks. With foreknowledge of the event, millions of people are planning their lives around the eclipse. Back then, caught by surprise, the world must have given its attention to what was taking place, whether they knew what was happening at Golgotha or not.
God has a funny way of getting our attention when we need it most, and we rarely need a scientific explanation to make sense of it. Our tire blows as we speed down the interstate after an angry exchange with a loved one. Our alarm clock fails to sound on a morning when our stress levels have reached a breaking point. A rainbow appears in the sky as we leave the doctor’s office after getting some bad news. When those things happen to us, it does not matter whether anyone else recognizes what God is up to. We know, and that is a gift to us.
We believe in a God who is active in human history, not necessarily shaping every encounter in preordained ways but present and participating in our lives. As people of faith, we look for reminders that God is with us, but sometimes God interrupts our lives in ways that need no explanation.
The death of Jesus was a universe-altering event that fundamentally changed the relationship between God and the world, including those who have no knowledge of the gospel. The gospel writers recognized that there is no celestial event that can overstate the significance of the cross. Imagine not knowing how the orbits of the moon and earth occasionally align in such a way to produce a perfect shadow on the earth’s surface and then using your experience of such an event to convey how God had done something that transcends our understanding.
This Monday, when the sun’s light is darkened, think beyond the intricate alignment of sun, moon, and earth and go past the scientific explanation for what will happen. Sure, we understand how an eclipse works, but how is God reaching down to get our attention? What is God saying to us? How is this unusual, if explicable, event an opportunity for wonder?
Yours faithfully,
Evan D. Garner