2 February 1992
Paris, France

My dear Sisters,

I do not suppose that there has ever been a time in the history of the world when there has been so much light in it. Compare the amount of light which any of our houses has at night time now, and what the Sisters had a hundred years ago. The lights of any modern city are reflected in the night sky and can be seen for many miles before one approaches the city. Think of what Our Lord said to the people of His time: "The night comes when no man can work." (Jn 9:4). Because we can create and use artificial light today, the candle has almost been forgotten. The Church, however, retains the candle. You can say that the life of a Christian is lit by a candle, or rather, a series of them. When we received a share in the life of God Himself at baptism, a candle was lit and we were told to "take this burning light and keep your baptismal blameless throughout your life." It is a candle that we hold in our hands when on Holy Saturday we celebrate the rising of Christ Who is our head. It is a candle that the Church burns on our altars when Christ with His Church offers Himself to the Father in the Eucharist. It is the Paschal candle that will be lit when the Church is saying farewell to us at our funeral Mass.

The Church keeps the candle, even in this age of artificial light, as a gentle reminder to us of the difference between the light of reason and the light of faith. The light of reason can give us much but, like artificial light, it can sometimes fail. When our electricity fails, we fall back upon the candle. In the life of a Christian, the light of reason is not sufficient. There are truths which flesh and blood will not reveal to us and are only made plain by the soft, gentle light of faith which is a gift of our Father in heaven.

A candle gives forth its light but only at the cost of being consumed. Jesus Christ said He was the light of the world. He gave forth light by being consumed to the point of death on a cross. So a candle speaks to us, not only of the light of faith but of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. With that life and sacrifice Mary, His Mother, was closely associated, and a shadow of that sacrifice falls across the pages of today's Gospel.

When the aged Simeon and Anna met the young couple, Mary and Joseph, they shared the sentiments of wonder together. Mary and Joseph "wondered at the things that were being said about the child," (Lk 2:33) while the wonder of Simeon and Anna expressed itself in thanksgiving. The capacity to wonder is one of God's greatest gifts. When we are young, our minds are filled with wonder. Then as we grow older, we seem to lose our capacity for wonder, and that is a great loss for us. When Jesus said that we must become as little children if we wish to enter the kingdom of heaven, He may have been saying to us: "Unless you have the capacity to wonder at the deeds of God as a child does, you will not be able to enter heaven." I imagine that a great part of our happiness in heaven will be the wonder which we will experience when we will be fully open to the intensity of God's love for us, to the depth of His wisdom and to the purity of His beauty. I read once of a Jewish rabbi who was dying and who was suffering a great deal. One of his prayers was: "Lord, you can take away everything from me, but do not take away from me the gift of wonder."

"Ask for the only thing you need," wrote George Bernanos, "a star and a pure heart." Today's feast could be said to be a celebration of the star in Mary's life and of her pure heart. In the Temple she was told that the Infant in her arms would be the joy of her people and the light of the nations; she would nurture and care for her Son, knowing that His future would be a glorious one and, in a mysterious way, piercingly painful for herself. The white light of some stars carry mysterious tints of red in them. "Ask for the only thing you need, a star and a pure heart." Mary's offering of the fruit of her womb in the Temple came from a pure heart. It was a further expression of her surrender to her God and Saviour of all that she was and possessed, a prolongation of her Fiat.

In living our own vocation all that we need is a star and a pure heart. A star that will keep leading us to find Christ in the poor and in the happenings of our daily lives; a star whose light will be such that in all circumstances and eventualities we can say with the beloved disciple. "It is the Lord." (Jn 21:7). And a pure heart: "The Sisters must often renew," wrote St. Louise to Sister Anne Hardemont, "their purity of intention which causes them to perform all their actions for the love of God. This will enable them to preserve the spirit which true Daughters of Charity must possess." (Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, ltr. 400, p. 432).