Who or what is your lighthouse?
What is your beacon through the fog? When it storms in your life, where do you look for guidance and light? What solid structure do you look for to allay your fears?
Those of us who live in coastal provinces are familiar with the importance of the lighthouse. Of course, modern advances in navigational equipment have seen the diminishment of the lighthouse to a certain extent. Yet, for us who are used to the towering beacons, we couldn’t imagine our shores without them, even if they are mostly automated nowadays. Even those who have lived inland all their lives can grasp the symbol of a lighthouse as a symbol of salvation in the lives of fisherman and sailors.
Canadian Catholic author Michael O’Brien’s latest novel, The Lighthouse, uses the iconic symbol of the red-topped tower as a metaphor for the salvation of all, even the landlubbers among us. Set in the beauty of northern Nova Scotia on a tiny island defined as the easternmost point of Cape Breton, O’Brien details the life of lighthouse keeper Ethan McQuarry, who begins his solitary career as a young man, establishing a happy life for himself, alone with his light, books, woodcarvings, and vigilant watching for anyone in distress.
Ethan’s life is, in a way, the opposite of the typical modern life. He is not beset by constant noise, modern technology, or the incessant, fear-inducing news wheel. He is a man alone, but not lonely, juxtaposed with the modern being who is almost never alone, but often severely lonely. A series of events play out in the book, including several unexpected encounters with strangers, that speak to the importance of human relationships.
Like so many people in our own lives, the lighthouse keeper is not a man of religion, but he is acutely aware of an otherness in his life. He explains this to a young woman who happens upon his island one summer day: “Sometimes I feel a listening all around me.” She asks him if it is like someone is listening to him, even when he’s alone. He responds, “Yes. Someone good, someone with me. Or some thing. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t have any words to describe it. It’s like an awakeness in the world.”
O’Brien seems to be reinforcing poet John Donne’s point that no man is an island, while at the same time echoing St. Thomas Aquinas’ teaching that we can come to know God through natural law. We need human connection, somewhat like we need food and water. The character of Ethan comes alive when he interacts with people and starts developing relationships with them. But what emerges is that, because of his mostly solitary life, he has a depth of self-knowledge that allows him to listen adeptly, in tune to people’s needs and the sense of being in the presence of a greater “other.” Ethan is truly present in a world that is plagued with distractedness.
Along with that self-awareness is a selflessness that allows Ethan to be always at the ready to serve others. His existence is somewhat like that of a monk. While he lives alone and almost revels in that aloneness, his life is one of service to the larger community, not just through manning the lighthouse but in the quiet and anonymous things he does for people. His life echoes the Catholic adage that we are called to be “in the world but not of it.”
O’Brien is a true artist who leads his readers on a journey of examining what is true and good and worthy in the lives of his characters and, in turn, in the lives of his readers. The Lighthouse is a short read and a great conversation starter, hopefully sparking readers to think more about the meaning of their lives. O’Brien doesn’t mention a specific faith for this main character, which is all the better for reaching readers of any or no faith. I shared my copy with my husband and teenagers and bought several copies for gifts for friends and family – some believers, some not.
Do yourself a favour and get a copy of The Lighthouse this summer. Read it, share it, gift it to others. Think about the lighthouses and lighthouse keepers in your life, and how we care for and tend our own lighthouses for others. Maybe you’ll be inspired to be the lighthouse people so desperately need these days.
Lazzuri writes from Nova Scotia, where she lives with her husband, six children, and her mom. She can be reached at [email protected].