RELIGION AND LIFE

Southland Times, Issue 25763, 29 August 1945, Page 8

RELIGION AND LIFE

By

ICHTHUS

Letting in the Light I spent the best part of the day last Saturday cutting down trees. The decision was not easily taken. I am always loth to cut down a tree. A tree can be felled in a few minutes, but it takes all the minutes of many years to grow one again. But these were not stately, majestic trees; they were huge, shapeless ; overgrown, sprawling shrubs. A former owner of the place planted them many years ago. I suppose he thought how pleasant it would be'to have New Zealand native shrubs about his new house. But time brings in its revenges. With the years these shrubs grew into great, spreading, over-sized, ungainly tangles They crowded one another and shut out the air. Moreover, being on the north side of the house, they shut out the sun with its light and warmth. A few hours sharp work, and the job was done. And what a difference! Margaret came out to see. She had been loth as I to put in the axe. But now it was done, the sun and the air came streaming through, and what had been a haunt of shadows and of dank, musty, air was open, clear, fresh, and full of light and warmth. It was hard to foresee how great would be the boon from the simple operation of letting in the light. CHILDREN OF THE LIGHT After all, we are children of the light. The earth may be our mother—science disputes it and asserts that our mother is toe sea—but the sun is our father. About that there is no dispute. In higher latitudes he may be a harsh father, and his children can see too much of his face. But down in these lower latitudes of southern New Zealand we can never see too much of the sun. I often think as I go about Southland that our forbears made one frequent mistake. Not that they planted trees. That was no mistake. But they planted them too near the house. Often, they planted them where, as they grew, they shut out the sun. And that made the home dark, damp and unhealthy. Plant trees by all means. But in Southland plant them to break the wind, never to shut out the sun. The ways of the sun are life, health, strength—and no small part of our happiness. Therefore, at any cost, let in the light! TONGUES IN TREES

It is Shakespeare, is it not, who finds .tongues in trees, books in the running brook, and sermons in stones. I, too. found that my trees had tongues. They have been talking to me quite a bit since I cut them down. Margaret tells me tlie minister is calling tomorrow. I must show him my work, and tell him what has happened. If he does not get a sermon out of it he is no preacher. What a parable it is! Is this not just what all the world needs?—the letting in of the light. Is that not the essence of the world situation? Fling down the barriers, that the light of understanding, brotherhood, and help may flow from nation to nation! Put the axe into the dark, musty hedges—national, economic, political, racial—that cut us off and shut us in! Do we think to conserve our own home interests, and our own good, that way? There is no real good but the common good. There is no health, but the universal health. Away with the hedges! Let in the light! Is that not what we individual men and women need, also? Let in the light. How long ago is it that the greatest teacher the world has ever known said that “men love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil”? That goes to the very bottom of things. That love of darkness, that lothness to put the axe into the dark, unwholesome growths that stand betwixt us and the sun —is that not what is amiss with us all? “I am the light of the world,” said Jesus. “He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” Let in the light!