There was something so comforting about
the flicker of the flame, the pale melted wax, the delicate scent emanating
from the candle that reminded her of the Mass. But more than what it was, it
was the reality of what it had been that brought a a glow to Sue Spitz’s face. The
8-ounce mixture of paraffin and beeswax pooling in a Mason jar had once been remnants
of altar candles lit during Mass at St. Leo the Great Church in Fairfax.
The scene inspired Spitz, a parish
sacristan, to spread that flicker of joy to her faith community. With the help
of friends, the little light of candles like hers soon shone in the homes of
hundreds of St. Leo parishioners.
The candle, and the concept of a
domestic church, took on a whole new significance after public Masses were
suspended. Spitz read that praying beforehand, dressing up and setting out a
crucifix made the experience of watching Mass online feel more real. Lighting
the reborn candle, too, provided great solace.
“This first week
when our family lit it, it made me feel so good, like I really was connected
with St. Leo, that I was actually in the church because I had part of the
church in my home,” she said. “The second week I thought, what a privilege (it
was) that I have this candle. I was feeling this tug in my heart that this was
something that really needed to be shared.”
But the ministry of light truly began years
before in 2017 with a simple premise: it was too wasteful to keep throwing away
the waxy stubs of used tabernacle and altar candles. So Spitz and fellow St.
Leo sacristan Patty Wolfhope began to save them. As the stubs began to pile up
in the family art room, Patty’s daughter Sarah decided to help. “We thought it was just a matter of melting the wax, pouring
it in a new jar, adding a wick and you’re good to go, but not quite,” said
Patty.
Early prototypes of the candles had disappearing
wicks, sinkholes and residual wax caked to the sides of the jar even once the
wick had burned down completely. Months of testing and research honed their
technique. “It took us awhile to get to the place where
we were like, OK, I could proudly give this to someone,” said Sarah. The Luminescence
Candle Co. Etsy shop was born.
On candle-making days, the Wolfhope
kitchen is covered with plastic tablecloths and large cutting boards on which
they place the hot vats of wax. Sarah cuts off the burnt wicks before throwing
the stubs into a tall metal pot and melting them in the oven for hours. Once
they’re melted, she dons an apron and fishes out the wicks and any other debris
before pouring the liquid wax into a pitcher, and then into warmed glass jars. The
whole house begins to smell like church, said Sarah.
The candles cure for hours, then Sarah
drills holes in them, tiny chimneys for the air to escape through before a
second pour. She creates the smooth, flat top surface with a heat gun, then
trims the cotton-braided wick. Finishing touches include sticking a label atop
the lid and tying a twine bow around the jar.
Sue Spitz (left) and Sarah and Patty Wolfhope hold candles from their ministry, Light from Light, which helps them share a physical piece of their parish with fellow parishioners of St. Leo the Great Church in
Fairfax during the pandemic.COURTESY
Creating candles was a welcome
distraction for Sarah through years of medical tests, hospitalizations and long
nights scouring the internet for an explanation to her illness. In 2019, she was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.
“It’s where your connective tissue isn’t formed properly and it can cause you
to have a lot of other problems, too,” said Sarah. Her chronic conditions,
among other things, keep her from standing up for long periods and keeping food
down.
The 28-year-old
was scheduled to have surgery in May that would alleviate some of her nausea
and vomiting when she got a call from the hospital saying a spot had opened in
March. “We couldn’t believe it, we were just so overjoyed,” her mom said. They
traveled to Connecticut to see one of only two doctors in the world who perform
surgery for median arcuate ligament syndrome. Sarah had the operation only days
before non-essential surgeries were postponed. “That was God working through
all of this,” said Patty.
They returned to Virginia around Holy
Week, and Spitz suggested giving away some of the
Luminescence candles. “We thought, that sounds so fulfilling and being able to
bring joy to people would be so wonderful,” said Sarah. To test the waters,
Spitz emailed the St. Leo’s mothers group, and within 24 hours all 15 of the
candles they offered were claimed.
Then they emailed all the ministries in
the parish, and put a notice in the bulletin. They asked those who received the
candles to consider donating to the parish. Spitz left a labeled candle next to
a bottle of hand sanitizer on her front porch for anyone who requested one.
Patty, an extraordinary minister of holy Communion, left candles at the front
doors of the homebound. Father David A. Whitestone, pastor, gave his blessing
to the ministry and the candles. Inspired by the line from the Nicene Creed,
they named the ministry Light from Light.
But the ministry faces a bit of an
existential crisis — they’ve run out of
wax. While they hope to partner with other diocesan churches to get more, they
don’t know exactly what the future holds for Light from Light or the Luminescence
Candle Co. Right now, they’re gratified that weeks of color-coding spreadsheets
and sweeping up flecks of wax has brought literal light into people’s lives
during these dark times.
“We should almost
put that on the candle, 40 hours of comfort,” said Patty. “When we first
hatched this plan, we all looked at each other and all said, this is a win win.
Who wouldn't want a candle directly from St. Leo that was at the holy sacrifice
of the Mass and was blessed? It’s just beautiful.”
Parishioner Alex Navarro couldn’t
believe the timing of receiving a candle. Navarro had been praying a nightly rosary
on Zoom for weeks for a high school classmate who was losing a battle with
COVID-19. Then one day, within a matter of minutes, he learned that his classmate
died; that the class would all hold a lit candle on the Zoom rosary that night;
and that a complete stranger from his parish was offering him a candle. “I like
to call it a God wink,” he said.
Parishioner Lauren Mueller had something
special in mind for her little piece of St. Leo — using it as a first birthday
candle. Last May, Mueller was 35 weeks pregnant when she noticed her unborn
baby had stopped moving. The family held little Annie’s funeral at St. Leo.
This year, Mueller wasn’t able to attend Mass or receive the Eucharist on the
anniversary of Annie’s birth, and death. It brings her to tears just thinking
about it.
But she was able to make Annie a
birthday cake, white with strawberry frosting. She was able to watch her son
and daughter sing Happy Birthday and blow out their little sister’s candle.
Through grateful emails and calls, Spitz
and the Wolfhopes have witnessed how much light a candle could bring to people
facing grief, sickness and loneliness. “It’s been nice to put so much love into
something someone is going to cherish,” said Sarah. “This was a way we could
remind the community that there is a community still here, whether we’re seeing
each other in church or not.”
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To learn more, go here or
email lightfromlight2020@gmail.com.