Dancing Shadows and the Timeless Light

20.  If you make provision for the desires of the flesh (cf. Rom. 13:14) and bear a grudge against your neighbor on account of something transitory, you worship the creature instead of the Creator.

St. Maximus the Confessor Four Hundred Centuries on Love: #20

When I was a cub scout, young in my scouting journey, our pack went on a camping trip to Ruby Falls in Chattanooga.  If you have never been I highly recommend it!  We were able to access the less touristy parts of the underground network of caves and spent the night in the cave.   We built a fire and the smoke exited the cave through the various natural vents in the cavernous ceilings.  While sitting in the dark cave around the fire there were all sorts of images. Around me, shadows danced—some of them so captivating, I forgot they were but mere reflections of the world outside. There was a comfort in the cave and with the dancing shadows. But this comfort is tethered to transience, to things that are bound to decay and fade.

Saying 20 of Maximus the Confessor states, "If you make provision for the desires of the flesh and bear a grudge against your neighbor on account of something transitory, you worship the creature instead of the Creator."

The cave represents our worldly existence, and the shadows are the transient desires and grudges we hold onto. In their dance, we often lose sight of the light above, the true and eternal.

The desires of the flesh—be it wealth, fame, or sensory pleasure—are like the captivating shadows on the cave's walls. They seem real and fulfilling, but they are temporary, bound to the impermanence of the world. Similarly, when we hold onto grudges, anchored in momentary hurts or misunderstandings, we become ensnared in the ephemeral drama of life, missing out on the deeper truths and connections that bind us all.

To worship these fleeting shadows is to mistake the illusion for the source. The Creator, the eternal Light, is often forgotten when we are engrossed in the dance of these temporary patterns.

However, a whisper within us knows there's more than the cave. A part of us yearns to journey towards the opening and bathe in the unfiltered light of the Creator. This journey requires courage. It means letting go of familiar shadows, of grudges and desires that seem to define our very existence.

But as we approach the mouth of the cave, the world outside begins to reveal itself in its true form—a realm of timeless beauty and love, where the light does not cast shadows but illuminates every corner. Here, the things that once seemed so crucial in the cave lose their grip, for they cannot compete with the radiance of the divine.

Maximus the Confessor's saying is a profound reminder of our true purpose. It's an invitation to recognize and transcend the fleeting shadows of our lives, to ascend from the cave and embrace the divine light that never fades.

As we free ourselves from the chains of transient desires and grudges, we return to genuine worship—revering not the creations or illusions of this world but the eternal Creator. In this worship lies true freedom, a release from the shackles of impermanence, and an immersion in the timeless dance of divine love.