Sermon March 15, 2026 "Visible in the Light" by Rev. Katrina Ross Zezza



Sermon March 15, 2026 “Visible in the Light” by Rev. Katrina Ross Zezza
Scripture Reading: Ephesians 5:8-14

Listen to this sermon read by Katrina


The Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, who wrote most of his work at the beginning of the 20th century coined a term called “the shadow-self”. Even though he coined the term and is famous for it, it’s an ancient concept that shows up in many places. In Jung’s theory, he describes an unconscious, repressed aspect of the personality. It represents everything the ego rejects or deems socially unacceptable, and its often projected onto others. Shadow work is the process of uncovering and integrating the "shadow self”. The idea is that by bringing these unconscious traits into our awareness, we can reduce self-sabotage, improve our relationships, and be a more authentic person.

According to Jung, as children we learn which behaviors cause approval and disapproval from the people around us, and this forms our personality. We tend to develop the parts we learn are acceptable and we repress the parts we learn are not. The things we repress about ourselves become part of our shadow-self. (Rohr) They aren’t necessarily bad parts, they’re simply the parts that are not rewarded by our family or culture. Jung says the shadow becomes “the thing a person has no wish to be”. But while denying the shadow can lead a person to do unhealthy or bad things, the shadow itself isn’t evil. In fact it can contain hidden potentials. For example, a person might have grown up to believe that it’s selfish to be assertive, and so he goes through life allowing others to push him around, which then causes him to be resentful of people in his life, which in turn makes him feel guilty. His potential for healthy assertiveness and his resentment are both part of his shadow. (Perry) Doing shadow work for him, might be questioning the belief that assertiveness is selfish, thinking about where it came from, and then opening his mind to new choices, and eventually experiencing less resentment and guilt.

I thought of this concept, because in our second reading for today from Ephesians, Paul writes that “Everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light.” When we talk about the light of Christ, we’re used to thinking of it as beautiful. But when the light shines it also reveals things that were formerly in darkness. And sometimes it reveals things we would rather not see. Like a flashlight on the basement stairs can show how dusty they are. When Paul says, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” He means take a look at those things you might rather not look at. Be transparent, be honest, have integrity and you will know God more fully.

In Buddhist traditions, there is a story of how a prince named Siddhartha became the Buddha by meditating under a tree until he experienced liberation. And while he sat, the shadow god Mara tried everything he could to make him fail, sending violent storms and raging demons. Siddhartha met all of them with an awakened and compassionate presence, and as the morning star appeared in the sky, the prince became the Buddha, a fully realized being. In the years that followed, he traveled to many regions to teach, and the shadow god Mara followed him. The story goes that the Buddha would stroll over to Mara and with a firm, gentle voice say, “I see you, Mara…. Come, let’s have tea.” And the Buddha would serve Mara as an honored guest. The moral of the story is to imagine that as Mara appears in our lives, instead of avoiding the feelings or acting in anger or turning on ourselves, what if our response was to pause and say, “I see you shadow, come let’s have tea”.  (Brach 18-19)

I was a substitute teacher for a couple of years when my kids were younger. And I often worked with one first grade class in particular. One day I was subbing and a guest came to read a book about imaginary friends. I sat nearby with one of the kids who tended to get a little distracted and sometimes disruptive. He grumbled to me that he didn’t have any imaginary friends, all he had was imaginary enemies…

I thought it was one of the most brilliant things I’d ever heard. Later that morning, the kids were playing outside and I saw him by himself in the trees swinging a stick fiercely. I thought he must be battling one of his imaginary enemies. When I went home, I drew these pictures and wrote this story. I’ve never printed it before, but this week I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I added it to the bulletin.

Max was always getting into trouble because he had an imaginary enemy that followed him everywhere. He couldn’t always see him, but Max knew he was there- like a shadow. When Max hears the enemy crying, it’s the beginning of his shadow work. He begins to feel empathy for the part of himself that he has been fighting. It starts by recognizing that he and his shadow have similar needs. Whenever Max has been sad, he realizes that he just wants someone to talk to. So even though it felt strange, he went to ask his shadow how he was feeling. And they are both transformed by the experience.

The next day Max hardly gets into any trouble, and he makes new friends. Through befriending the part of himself that he had been fighting, Max discovers that he has great potential for connection and relationship. He starts to be kinder to himself and therefor to other people around him.

The apostle Paul says everything becomes visible in the light of Christ. As we journey through Lent, how can we shine a light to see ourselves and God more clearly, sit with our shadow as a friend and say, “I see you. Come, let’s have tea”? I still struggle with this, but when something upsets me, and I notice I’m having a strong emotional reaction disproportionate to the moment, I try to remember that it’s probably my shadow being revealed. And I get curious about it, compassionate toward myself rather than judgmental. What experiences or beliefs have I had that are making me react this way? Intense emotional reactions in everyday situations are windows into the shadow-self. And even the most intense emotional reactions are 100% human, but it’s what we choose to do with them that can lead to better or worse outcomes.

According to Carl Jung, the shadow is the part of ourselves we repress, deny, or refuse to see- our fears, anger, envy, wounds, and capacity for harm. Shadow work means facing and integrating those parts rather than pretending they aren’t there. Paul uses similar language when he says, “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light.” Instead of shaming people for their darkness, Jesus invites it into the light, into what Jung would call shadow work, where transformation can begin.

Jung also saw the ramifications of shadow work for the broader society. He believed that failure to recognize the shadow is usually the cause of problems for a patient, but beyond that within groups and organizations, and even between nations. He said that it can lead to conflicts ranging from interpersonal arguments to world wars. If a person or a country can look at the parts of itself that it would rather not see, it has a better chance of experiencing wholeness and integration. As we pray for this kind of transformation in our personal lives and in our world, may we find comfort in knowing that God is at work. The good news is that the light of Christ makes all things visible, bringing what is hidden into the light so that healing can happen.

So let us pray

Dear God, we come to you as imperfect people, lead us not to seek perfection, but rather to be in right relationship with you. Help us to look at the parts of ourselves and the parts of our world that are hard to see, so we can be transformed by you. We ask this is Christ’s name. Amen.



Richard Rohr, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2011), 132–133. 

Christopher Perry, The Shadow, The Society of Analytical Psychology, August 12, 2015

Tara Brach, Radical Compassion: Learning to Love Yourself and Your World with the Practice of RAIN (New York: Viking Life, 2019), 18–19.

Katrina Ross Zezza, My Imaginary Enemy


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