A Light Shines

“No one who lights a lamp conceals it with a vessel or sets it under a bed; rather, he places it on a lampstand so that those who enter may see the light.” // Luke 8:16

It is no surprise to me that the Gospel for today (see Luke 8:16-18) falls on the feast of my patron—Padre Pio, canonized as Saint Pius of Pietrelcina. It is also no surprise that I was unknowingly assigned this date. He just does things like that. 

Once I had lost the little Saint Padre Pio medal I wore around my neck, only to find it face up on the floor of my bedroom weeks later as I was vacuuming. His happy face staring right up at me. And again, having lost the same medal at a friend's house, it was returned days later, clutched in the chubby fist of her toddler. Or the time I reluctantly threw out a piece of mail that was only vaguely associated with him, only to find it had blown out of my trash can overnight (the only thing to have flown out of the trash can) and landed on the ground beside it. I chose him as my patron, but I think—like most good patrons—he chose me too. Even when I lose him, both literally and metaphorically, he always finds me. I imagine all the Saints are doing this for us, reaching out, in all their own ways, to remind us they are here, rooting for us, pushing us, and cheering us on.

This is exactly why the Gospel is so significant for today. The Saints are lights that shine—beyond human means, and even beyond earthly realities, they shine. This, too, is our call. To be inflamed by the burning love of Jesus, so much so that our lives become magnetic, drawing all things to Him. Inward and upward, we see how the ripple effect goes on. Even on to me, on the date of my Confirmation in 2006, realizing that Padre Pio was the one calling my name, and the one asking me to call myself the same.

I know countless more have followed, and countless more will follow still—drawn into the light and consumed by it. Lord, help us, too, to shine.