The Man in the Moon

I really like the moon. Ask some of my friends, and they'll tell you my penchant for pointing out lunar phases. A good waxing gibbous gets me jacked, man.

Brett Dennen has a cool song, a love song of course, called "Just Like the Moon." Instead of telling a girl that she's like the sun, he says, "You light up the night, just like the moon." It isn't to say that she's not awesome enough to be the sun; it's a fun, subtler way to say that someone is a source of light.

The moon has so many cool things going on. It's orbit is locked-in so that it spins in just such a way that we see the same 180º of it all the time - hence the alluring and mysterious dark side (a misnomer because sometimes - specifically during new moon - the side we see is completely dark) of the moon that is unobservable from earth. The elliptical shape of its orbit causes it to mess with the earth's shape and cause the tidal effects of our waters. It orbits around the earth every 28ish days, and sometimes, a new moon will line up just right to eclipse the sun and give us the awesome spectacle of a solar eclipse.

The awe of the solar eclipse comes from the "new moon," which happens at the beginning of the lunar cycle. Since the moon is between the earth and the sun, only the side that we never see it lit up; we can only "see" the dark side. It doesn't really appear to us, especially since the new moon rises at sunrise and sets at sunset. But we know it's there. It's still effecting the tides. Even completely shrouded in darkness, it's still the same side of the moon we see at first quarter, full moon, and third quarter.

No matter if it's a little sliver of a waxing crescent or the just-less-than-full waning gibbous, the moon still gives us its bit of light, its tidal effect, and the awe of its place in the sky. And the completely dark moon that we can't really make out in the sky is called "new" - it's about to return to light; the visible section of the moon will grow from tiny sliver on its right corner to fully lit up. The light will return, never to go away forever.

Somehow, there's a metaphor for the presence of God in here. God is always with us; He comes to us in the Eucharist and is with us there and to the end of time through the Holy Spirit. However, not every glimpse we get of God's presence is the same.

It can be the full moon of the Eucharist, like the communion at mass or Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. It can be the little crescent of a brief prayer during your day. It can the first quarter of seeing someone do a random act of kindness from afar. It's not to say that every moment you become aware of God or His love can be related to a phase of the moon, and different moments may strike you differently each time.

An even cooler way to prolong this comparison is the idea of the moon in the sky. Even if the northern and southern hemispheres see different constellations and directions in the sky, the moon appears the same to everyone in the world. If the moon is full, I'll see it in Ireland from my sunset to my sunrise just as you in the US will later today. So, too, with Christ: he comes to us in the Eucharist to give the Body of Christ to the Body of Christ, no matter when or where. Christ transcends time and space, so we who make up His Body are connected in communion with all others celebrating this awesome mystery today, yesterday or 100 years ago, and tomorrow or 100 years from now. I see the same Christ in the Eucharist, in others, in Adoration, that you see in your lives of faith.

So when I'm far away, I can look at the moon and know that my loved ones all over the world see the same moon in the sky. And when I look to Christ in the mass and throughout my life, I see the same Christ you see; I am in the same Christ as you.