On Monday, the United States will witness a total solar eclipse that will travel from Mexico through Texas and 14 other states before leaving into Canada. This event, which is the first of its kind since 2017 and won't occur again until 2045, has stirred up a lot of excitement. As a result of this excitement, several locations in the country have declared a state of emergency in order to be prepared for any potential strain on emergency services due to the influx of travelers, and to secure federal funds if needed.
It's not that we're bringing back ancient beliefs about the eclipse. We're not worried that the gods are upset with the ruler, although maybe we should be, or that the moon blocking the sun is a sign of impending disaster. Rather, the states of emergency are in place to ensure that emergency services in the states within the eclipse's path can handle the potential increase in demand, and to be prepared to access federal funds if necessary.
The states of emergency may seem unnecessary, but the reason behind them gives us hope. In 2024, at a time when our lives are dominated by the digital world, thousands of people will take a break from their screens to witness the awe-inspiring beauty of God’s creation. The fact that they will then promptly return to their screens to take poor-quality photos of the eclipse and share them on social media is less encouraging.
I understand the temptation. As a resident of one of the states within the eclipse's path, it's unlikely that I'll refrain from taking a photo, although I will feel guilty about it, especially considering I could simply wait a few hours and download a much better photo, such as this one the one from 2017, and share that instead.
Solar eclipses have long fascinated humans. Early myths suggested that an eclipse was the wolf Skoll chasing the sun goddess Sol across the sky in an attempt to eat her, or that a dragon was devouring the sun. A more positive belief was that the sun and the moon were having more offspring. Nowadays, people are more concerned about the impact on pregnant women and pets in the household, which somehow makes less sense than the ancient superstitions.
However, total eclipses don't just incite worry. They also inspire awe. In 1869, Maria Mitchell, the first female astronomer, detailed her experience during that year’s total eclipse.
Light clouds had for some time seemed to drift toward the sun; the Mississippi assumed a leaden hue; a sickly green spread over the landscape; Venus shone brightly on one side of the sun, Mercury on the other; Arcturus was gleaming overhead, Saturn was rising in the east; the neighboring cattle began to low; the birds uttered a painful cry; fireflies twinkled in the foliage, and when the last ray of light was extinguished, a wave of sound came up from the villages below, the mingling of the subdued voices of the multitude.
Instantly the corona burst forth, a glory indeed! It encircled the sun with a soft light, and it sent off streamers for millions of miles into space!
More recently, writer Annie Dillard wrote poetically about the total eclipse of 1979, saying:
The sky’s blue was deepening, but there was no darkness. The sun was a wide crescent, like a segment of tangerine. The wind freshened and blew steadily over the hill. The eastern hill across the highway grew dusky and sharp. The towns and orchards in the valley to the south were dissolving into the blue light. Only the thin band of river held a spot of sun.
Now the sky to the west deepened to indigo, a color never seen. A dark sky usually loses color. This was saturated, deep indigo, up in the air.
Assuredly, your phone will not be able to adequately capture the amazement and beauty described by Mitchell and Dillard. If you live in the path of the eclipse, or are among the travelers heading to a state of emergency, you can witness and experience it in the moment. You can take a break from the chaos of everyday life and look up at the sky with your fellow humans, taking in the magnificence of it all, if only for a short time.
The totality will last for only last 3.5 to 4 minutes. During this time, the temperature will drop. Birds will gather, and farm animals will start to settle as if it were evening. Crickets and cicadas, if they emerge before then, will sing. It will be a brief moment, but it will be an opportunity for us to allow our inspiration to flow, as it did for Mitchell and Dillard, and experience an amazing heavenly event that doesn't happen very often.
Just like previous generations believed it had mystical significance, we understand, deep in our hearts, that such celestial events remind us of the grandeur of the universe, the complexities of life, and the fact that humans are not in control of the universe. The fact that it is happening during the Easter season only emphasizes the idea that we are God's creation, living in His magnificent plan, blessed by His gifts, and gazing toward the sky. As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, when I find a desire in myself that cannot be satisfied by any experience in this world, the most likely explanation is that I was created for another world.
The eclipse may be visible from this world for a short time, but it does not belong to it. Enjoy the rare opportunity to revel in its splendor and remember that we too were made for another world.
For more on space, science, and the totality, take a look at this episode of “Cookin’ Up a Story,” a podcast I produce and co-host with Joe Wilson, founder of the World Championship Squirrel Cook Off, in which we chat with a Ph.D. student in space science from the University of Arkansas.
