ew tohu v’bohu, the unmeaning, inane, nonexistent. Yet the creation of light is a clear and direct imparting by God of His very being, of meaning, wisdom, existence. That imparting is suggested by the Hebrew text.
The sacred author — and to read with faith is to trust in the divine inspiration of the man with the stylus — did not say, in Hebrew, “God said, ‘I shall make light,'” which he easily could have done, but rather, yehi ‘or, “Let there be light,” and yehi ‘or, “There was light.” The immediacy of the creation of light, and its essential relationship with the being of God, is suggested by the peculiarity of the Hebrew language, which “switches” verbal tenses after the conjunction, so that what was future or imperfect — “Let there be light” — becomes past and completed — “and there was light.” The verb is a form of the verb to be, which gives us also the mysterious Name of God that is no name, revealed to Moses out of another source of light, the bush that burns and is not consumed: “Tell them that I AM sent you.”
Our beloved Pope Benedict XVI leads us the way in recovering a faith-filled meditation upon the words, the specific and mysterious words, of sacred Scripture. What is true of the reading of Scripture is also, I believe, true of prayer, of worship at Mass, and of hymnody. I am not saying that the institution of the Novus Ordo was in error. I am saying, however, that the generous return of the Tridentine Mass, or of the traditions surrounding it, can be another source of rich recovery. For 40 years now, I have stood in line to receive the body of Christ. I have not been given the chance to kneel in adoration to receive it. I have not been given the chance to pause a moment afterward, to say a short prayer of thanks. I have not been given the chance to wait side by side with my fellow Christians, young and old, men and women, rich and poor, overschooled and underschooled. I have stood in line, as I have stood in line at restaurants, at theaters, and at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Why must this be so? Latin or English, or whatever language we speak, the body too speaks its language, and a kneeling man beside a kneeling child speaks with marvelous eloquence. I believe we will recover these acts of meaning.
I could continue — I could speak of Palestrina redivivus, or our suddenly remembering that there are such things as men and women and why we need them, or even Jesuits dusting off the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. The truth returns. God has promised it. Do we forget things? Yes, all the time. But even if a mother should forget her child, says the Lord, He shall not forget us. And He will jog our memories, too. The saints that He makes are seldom shy.