I know it is epiphany when the box of beeswax candles shows up at the church. These are the candles we light and carry in our evening Epiphany service, as a witness to the light of Christ shining in our world. 

There is a beautiful prayer, spoken in Roman Catholic churches as the paschal candle is lit during the vigil of Easter. In part it says:

On this, your night of grace, O holy Father, 

accept this candle, a solemn offering, 

the work of bees and of your servants’ hands, 

an evening sacrifice of praise, this gift from your most holy Church…

a fire into many flames divided, 

yet never dimmed by sharing of its light, 

for it is fed by melting wax, 

drawn out by mother bees to build a torch so precious.

This year as the aroma of beeswax candles fills my office, I am pausing to appreciate the work of the bees, whose labor helps us to worship God. 

Although it seems a long way off from this bitter cold, just a few months ago our new garden at Pilgrim House was full of bees, dozens, maybe a hundred, dancing from flower to flower, dancing their part in the dance of God’s creation. 

In the quiet dark of winter, I covenant with God to live more kindly toward them, and to all the creatures with whom I share this Earth, our many flames undimmed by sharing the light of love.