Hosanna! Let the Light Shine in...
Today 's blog post is to announce the newest addition to the quickly forming "Spiritual Awakenings" collection, which is meant to stimulate thoughts and meditations on life here on earth and the hereafter. (Have you been reading/listening to the thousands of Near Death Experience testimonies available?)
"Hosanna! Let the Light Shine In" is the next in the collection, based on the ancient song of David, "Your word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." [Psalm 119:105]
I began this painting last year, around Chanukah time ... and it was completed just in time for Passover!
Here's the story:
My great grandma, who I never met, was Jewish, but my very first best-friends, who lived two houses down, had a Bubba who lit the menorah candles Friday evenings, no matter the time of year, before the Shabbat dinner. My family rarely ate dinner at the table, so I loved it and was fascinated with it.
This is my attempt to portray a sacred tradition; it seems to represent a bridge between past and present, earthly and divine blessing, a moment suspended in holiness.
For those not familiar, let me explain: The word, Hosanna, is a cry of praise and deliverance—and invites you into a moment of both reverence and rejoicing. It’s meant not only as a scene of sacred ritual, but also one of hope and spiritual remembrance.
The light, from the last rays of the sun, begins the special sabbath observances, illuminated by an element of what I’d call, divine presence.
The traditional act of lighting the candles is a symbolic invocation that says: let the light shine in—into our hearts, our homes, and a world often shrouded in shadow. The flames are literal and symbolic: the light of faith, of remembrance, and of coming redemption.
The golden light, draped over the hands, is a visual echo of that invitation. It signals the belief that even the smallest flame can break the darkness with sacred purpose.
I chose this model’s hands to represent generations who have held and passed down this light. I saw strength and humility in these hands—as a continuation and a plea: Remember.
The cool blue tones of the room worked as a kind of counterpoint. When I see this, I see a stillness, and the mysterious vastness of the divine presence. To me, the beams of light that slice through the blue suggest an open heaven, as if the light kindled on earth is being mirrored or even answered from above.
When I showed this piece to a friend, she said, “It feels like a visual prayer.” I agree!
What do you think?
My hope is that, together, the elements and title are a message of hope: that in times of earthly darkness, we are invited to cry Hosanna—to welcome salvation—and to let the light, both human and divine, shine in.
Find more here.