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that silence, to smell the perfume in the air and
sense the utter commitment represented by
Mary’s actions.
When you finally find that one thing in life,
my father concluded, you cherish it. You go out
and buy the most expensive perfume that exists
and you use it all up, even sacrificing your own
body and life for it.people often describe science in terms
of certainty, data and evidence, but there are
aspects of the field that are as mired in mystery
and beauty as any religion—that require search-
ing not just for truth but for our humanity.
In my new job, my reporting focuses on the
moral gray areas of science. I write about people
pushing on the frontiers of research to see if
they can make the impossible possible. And I
write about the soul-searching ethical questions
they often encounter in that process.
But a few days before my meeting with Jaime
this summer, I was asked by the science desk
to help cover the total eclipse that would soon
pass over America.
I spent several days researching the history
of eclipses through time and was moved by
accounts that stretch back to some of the earliest
recorded instances of man’s awareness of himself
and the world around him.
In account after account, I read of how our
ancestors over the millennia looked up at the sky
on days like the one this past August, and what
they saw there filled them with fear and wonder.
In light of the sudden darkness in the sky, many
struggled to explain this force that was clearly
bigger than themselves. It spawned myths,
altered belief systems, reshaped the way entire
civilizations saw the world and themselves.
On the day of the actual eclipse, I was on the
phone, talking to a network of thirty-some
reporters and freelancers whom our newspaper
had stationed across the country. My role was to
gather their accounts and weave them together
into one coherent story—to try to make some
sense of this scientific and surprisingly emo-
tional day.
I spoke to scientists who broke down into
tears at the beauty of the sight. I wrote about
parishioners outside a church, screaming prayersand praises to God when the moment of totality
finally arrived. I wrote about an elderly woman
in Idaho City, who looked up and could not
help thinking of the son and husband she had
buried—the two lights in her own life now
gone dark.
And just before 2:42 p.m.—when the partial
eclipse was supposed to pass over my own office
in Washington, DC—I stole away to the roof for
a few minutes to catch a glimpse for myself.
From the top of our building, I watched the
darkness spread and felt the air grow cold.
I thought about how many in previous
centuries had looked at the sun, darkening in
this way, and read into it foreboding signs of the
apocalypse. And others who had seen in it the
exact opposite—signs of hope, confirmation of
God’s existence.
I thought about those times in my own life
when, like Jaime, I believed I had heard God
speaking to me. Those rare moments when the
world almost seemed to darken and narrow until
there was just one thing before me, the faint
sound of a whisper.
Afterward, back at my desk, it seemed strange
to me how the way we view eclipses nowadays
has changed so dramatically from that of our
ancestors. It is now a social media event. There
are livestreams on cable news. Online tools from
NASA for tracking each phase. Even the special
filtered glasses distributed at museums and
libraries. None of that existed before.
And yet, little of the experience itself has
changed.
There is still something inexplicable about it.
Like a rare glimpse into another world.
In most religions, Christianity included, light
usually represents God, clarity, truth. But the
reverse is true with eclipses. It is only during
the darkness, scientists note, that we are able to
truly see and study the Sun and its corona. It is
only in the dark that we are able to see what is
normally hidden.
And we emerge afterward, our eyes blinking,
our minds still adjusting to the transition from a
place of mystery and awe, back into the normal
explainable, predictable, and knowable world.
Even so, we carry the memory within us. That
glimmer of truth we once saw in the dark.MAN OF SCIENCE, MAN OF FAITH | WILLIAM WAN