The most perfect biographical example of man is that which transpires with the sun throughout the day.
There is something arduous [perhaps dolorous?] about the sun’s trajectory; it expresses the glory and the trials of a man.
When midday draws near and its triumph approaches, how the sun shines! It puts forth a real effort in shining! It draws upon all its inner strength and expends itself in covering all the areas it ought to, a magnificent and colossal effort. Although it doesn’t become fatigued, it has a generosity, an exertion, a self-sacrifice which is phenomenal!
In one way or another, the entire Universe symbolizes God.
Having attained its opus factum, the sun withdraws with dignity. It is a glorious diminishing of itself, in the manner of one who says, “I have gone so far that I am unable to stop suddenly.”
It is not the sun that enters into darkness; the world is in darkness because the sun has departed. Because it is sleeping, all about it is done in quiet and silence.
The sun is the image of the soul which, touched by the absolute, keeps giving, giving, and giving.
Providence determined, and it is part of the order of the Universe, that man mark his calendar by the movement of celestial bodies, and that, considering this movement, man might have the most magnificent clock made by the most magnificent of clockmakers.
A symbol makes that which is invisible, visible. A symbol is the material expression of something that is immaterial, imponderable. The human spirit does not grasp this in all its reality as long as it has not seen it expressed materially. Whenever we manage to link something abstract to a symbol, it is like a blind man who recovers his vision.
