St. Lucy's Day

Today is the feast of Saint Lucy, a Sicilian martyr particularly venerated in Scandinavia, there known as Saint Lucia. Her martyrdom was particularly gruesome: among other things, having her eyes gouged out. She is always depicted holding the dangling eyes, but completely whole. Perhaps a reference to the fact that her true sight was unaffected, that is, her willingness to suffer anything for the love of Christ. As such, she is the saint of light.

Today is always ruthlessly dark in north Wales. I feel a particular kinship with Lucy, not so much in her historical personage as in the mystical immortal soul who lives in eternal glory with God. Like all saints, she transcends time and place, but for me it is this aspect of St. Lucy that most moves and kindles. She is what, I imagine, our pre-Christian ancestors would have called a god: someone who speaks to them out of the quiet part of the soul and points to something greater beyond.



In this sunless winter, St. Lucy is a steadfast beacon, joining in the ranks of all the Advent saints in pointing to the horizon where the star of Christ will soon rise.