I regret to inform you that from the backyard of St. Francis In-The-Fields Episcopal Church in Zionsville, Indiana, the eclipse was a total bust.
I didn’t do any real prep for it, to tell you the truth. I didn’t buy any glasses, or even make one of those homemade cereal box viewers.
My parents’ house in Missouri was in the perfect spot to see the complete eclipse, and they and my sisters and all their kids were gathering to have a party for it. I guess I was bummed that I wouldn’t be a part of it and was kind of cranky about the whole thing.
But that morning I did look up when the 93% bit that would be visible in Indianapolis would come through, 2:28 p.m., and I dutifully went outside at 2:24 p.m.
I was mostly hoping to view the effects on the environment around me, since I wasn’t prepared to be able to see the eclipse itself.
I thought it might get dark, even drop a few degrees in temperature. I carefully watched shadows to look for changes, and tried to see if I got the heebie-jeebies.
Well, it was a total zero.
There were clouds coming across the sky the whole time, and even when the clouds dissipated briefly, nothing seemed to change.
It was like a normal partly cloudy day all the way through 2:28 p.m. Then I heard my phone ringing and had to run back inside—my boss needed me to check something on my calendar.
The whole thing was significantly underwhelming, to say the least.
But I am 100% in the minority in having had that result.
Everyone else I heard from had dramatic and even life-changing experiences.
One person burst into tears as it happened.
Others were flooded with joy and awe at the miraculous workings of the cosmos.
Many people, including a couple of members of my family, found themselves deeply unsettled and even disturbed by the eclipse.
Some animal part of their brains felt threatened by the most constant and unchanging part of nature, the sun that makes all life possible on our planet, going dark. My mom said she even got lightheaded.
I was fascinated by these accounts, and paradoxically found myself far more interested in the eclipse after it happened than I was before or during. I was so intrigued by these disparate reactions.
And as many people have commented, there also was something healing and hopeful about the unity briefly displayed in a nation so deeply divided.
Even if we went back to shouting at each other a day later, for one brief, dark moment, we all looked at the sky together and held our breath.
There was this narrow path that stretched across the U.S. where the eclipse was total. The sun would be 100% covered by the moon and completely blocked out.
This band was called “The Path of Totality.”
And as I heard the experiences of the people who witnessed it, the joy and fear and awe that washed over them, I realized that “The Path of Totality” is in fact a fantastic image for the gospel life—which Jesus in fact described as a narrow path, just like in the eclipse. Continue reading