New year’s Northern Lights

What a great way to start the new year, every year, but especially this year, early on New Year’s Day 2025, a walk in the woods enjoying a Northern Lights display.

My friend and colleague, Louise, lives in Smithers, the Gem of Northern British Columbia. Despite warmer temperatures than normal this year, snow lay on the ground as the sky was crystal clear for star gazing and to see one of Canada’s best astrophysical displays: the Northern Lights. People travel from many parts of the world to see them—Canada and other countries next to the Arctic Circle are ideal for viewing­—some of us watch them on a regular basis.

I had my own front-row seat in the early 1980s when I lived in northeastern BC. Walking home one night around 7:30 p.m. the sky was almost totally black save a few pinprick stars. Then in a matter of seconds a bright “rainbow” appeared directly above me. This tri-colour refraction then dissipated over the entire night sky, a wash of whitish light from horizon to horizon. Then, in a few seconds,  it all disappeared. Locals were envious of my once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Taken with her trusty iPhone, Louise’s photographs accompany this  blog, images barely visible to the naked eye, but dynamic, vivid, and impressive seen through her camera phone set to a slightly lengthened exposure. Yes, I have punched them up a bit in Lightroom, but hey, the camera never lies; right? While slightly exaggerated, what you see here is what Louise glimpsed early on New Year’s Day.

“This was my early morning walk on New Year’s Day. Again my naked eye saw the streaks in the sky but very little color. The camera picked up the colours. I wonder if that’s how God sees us as opposed to how we see ourselves. Happy New Year, Louise” she wrote.

OK, she’s Anglican, so she thinks theologically, and I might add, insightfully. As we need to work at seeing “what is there,” our first impression often evolves into something more wonderful—an unfolding mystery revealed over time. Casting my eyes over these images, one thought comes to mind. When we watch light, we always see something in motion, colour and shape, moving at the speed of light, from one location (infinity?; our sun?) to another. Light . . . might look still; but it’s anything but.

It’s something quite different from switching on the light over the kitchen sink; first it’s ON; then it’s OFF. The light we see in the daytime and the night is travelling towards us, fast, very fast. My discovery brings new life to these northern lights, those  physical figures, a collision between the sun‘s rays and earth’s atmospheric elements, which seem to dance with vigour, a jubilant, joyful,  shadowed celebration.

Returning to Louise’s point, does God view us with a similar jubilation? A few days ago we celebrated the festival of the Baptism of Jesus. “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:21-22)

As God blesses Jesus with divine pleasure, can we assume the same for ourselves? The prophet Zephaniah declares: “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.” (93:17)

The Psalmist continues in a similar voice: “For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with salvation. (149:4) These texts notwithstanding, scripture seems almost embarrassed to claim God’s pleasure with humanity. Scripture, or  our reception of its many messages, trends towards a relationship where the onus is always on us to do better, to do something restorative. I am not saying that amendment of ways is unnecessary, but I can appreciate the theologian Matthew Fox’s emphasis on Original Blessing as a way to recover a sense of God’s pleasure. We are indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) after all.  

Returning to the early morning skies, and to creation itself, we could use our time well and listen to the music of Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809) who expressed his love for all creation in the cantata: The Creation, based in part on Psalm 8:3-4.

“When I consider your heavens,
    the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
    which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
    human beings that you care for them?”

Enjoy.