Column: Our candles can't change the world but they do make a big difference

Sometimes it feels like all we can do in the face of an all-consuming darkness is to light a candle.

It is in that spirit that people have been gathering across Donegal and indeed, around the world to hold vigils to remember the victims of the awful tragedy in Creeslough.

On Sunday evening, I attended our local vigil in Donegal Town. It was sombre, it was humbling, it was moving, and it was important for us as a community to join together.

We remembered those who lost their lives as their names were spoken by our Mayor, Pauric Kennedy. We reflected quietly during a minute's silence, and we were reminded of the Creeslough community’s huge loss as Amazing Grace rang out across the Diamond, played by piper Stephen McElhinney.

And then people came forward with candles, placing them in the shelter of the sandstone monument that stands in the centre of Donegal Town.

There wasn’t a lot of chat; this was about trying to give substance to big emotions that ran very deep, about not letting the dead be shrouded only in darkness, about reaching into the overwhelming heartache of the bereaved and trying to make it a little less unbearable. 

As the crowd dispersed, those seeking a more private, quiet reflection came forward, standing alone or in small family groups in the flickering light.

Myself and my daughter were among them, and we added our candles along with another family, sharing matches  and shielding our fragile flames from the breeze as we placed them alongside dozens of others. 

It’s hard to explain how our little candles on a dark autumn evening can make a difference, and yet, they most certainly do. 

The symbolism of lighting a candle is ancient, powerful and universal. It pre-dates and transcends structured religion, but it is still an important expression within many faiths, as well as holding significance for those who are not part of any religious denomination or belief system. 

Despite all the advances in technology, candles still burn on altars in churches and other houses of worship here in Ireland and all over the world; the very act of lighting them is part of many religious ceremonies. 

And often in times of pain and loss, people will slip quietly into a church, perhaps to pray or to find solace, almost always to light a candle and to pause for a moment and absorb some of the energy of its healing glow.

I think of times during my own life traumas when people said: “I’ll light a candle for you.”

It meant a lot. The sentiment with which this ancient offering was being made touched me deeply. The idea that someone would have a flame burning in their own home to ease the pain in ours evoked a deep sense of gratitude, and of being a part of something much bigger than ourselves. 

I think too of how, when candles are being blown out on a birthday cake, someone is sure to say ‘make a wish,’ showing yet again that our belief in even the smallest and most playful of these wax and wick objects is deeply ingrained in our collective  psyche.  

Fire, whether big or small, provides a very special kind of warmth and light that cannot be replicated. 

It is one of the great forces of nature, sometimes a source of nurture, guidance, comfort or intimacy, other times destructive and uncontrollable, always with a mesmeric, magical quality that defies explanation or logic.

It connects us - literally - by being fed by oxygen in the air that we breathe, and in turn, changing the energy of molecules around it that together form the building blocks not just of our world but of the entire universe.

Our little candles burning in homes, churches and communities around Donegal this week cannot change what happened in Creeslough last Friday afternoon. But every single one of them matters, as does every wish,  prayer and expression of solidarity that they represent.