My “Miracle of the Sun” in Russia

In October 2015, while living and teaching abroad in Siberia, I had an extraordinary dream.

I was attending Mass in a large hall with both Russian Orthodox and Roman Catholic believers. During the Mass, I was talking to the Orthodox about the differences between Orthodoxy and Catholicism, when suddenly I realized that while talking I had missed Communion. I mean I had somehow missed all of the Eucharistic prayers along with the distribution.

I was thinking, How is this possible? This is the whole point of coming to Mass, and I missed it.

When I woke, the dream lingered. I often have vivid dreams, most of which are nonsense — but somehow I knew this one was different. It left me with a feeling somewhere between peace and curiosity. Something seemed hidden in it, some truth I should contemplate.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but throughout the early morning I felt a consoling inner closeness to Jesus and Our Lady, as represented in the diptych icons I keep on my bedside table.

It was like a promise: the revelation isn’t over.

Later, as I was walking to the city center for my evening shift, I was listening to music (chants, providentially) and noticed how absolutely glorious the sky looked, with the sun setting in gold, rose, and tangerine behind deep blue clouds. Between the music and the sky I was caught up in wonder. Wonder at the rosy glow on the buildings — the towers, the opera theater, the philharmonic — and at the bright fireball of the sun sinking behind birches and pines. I thought to myself, “THIS is Russia!”

And then it hit me. I’d forgotten why I’d come to Siberia. I’d forgotten the soul of Russia that I believed in, prayed for, and wished to see awaken. I’d forgotten about the glory of faith and the beauty of nature. Instead I was getting caught up in schedules and shopping and socializing.

And I wasn’t the only one.

So many people have forgotten why we’re here — here, as in on this earth, living this life. How often do we get caught up in our busyness, consumerism, and addiction to social media? How often do people take a step back and realize we’re just skimming the surface of what life could be?

Dazzled by that realization, I stopped right on the street corner and stared up at the sun, which was now sinking behind the pines on Pervomaisky Square. I prayed, “Lord, I want to help the world rediscover this deep place. I want them to see beauty and slow down enough to take it in.”

I went to work after that as usual, but later that night I realized it was the anniversary of Miracle of the Sun (October 13, 1917) in Fatima, Portugal. To put it in context for you, Our Lady of Fatima was the patroness of my mission in Russia — and on her special day I received this gift through the light of the sun.

That’s when I knew I had to take the inspiration seriously and act upon it. I had to live deeply — and I had to help others do the same. The problem was, I didn’t know how. In fact, I still don’t.

What is it to live from a deep place? How can I help others slow down and see beauty? How can I do it myself, in such a hectic time?

Perhaps it starts with a simple question: Why.

Why am I here? What is the purpose of life? What is the meaning to what I’m doing?

These are scary, deep questions, but they’re necessary to face if we want a deeper, fuller life. I’ve chosen to navigate those depths through prayer, poetry, storytelling, and art, since that’s where I encounter the beauty that shakes my world and converts my soul. But how do you seek the depths? What does it mean to you to live deeply?