For Ramona Bass-Kolobe, who is organizing a Kwanzaa celebration at St. Michael Church in Providence, lights are a metaphor for community, for people supporting one another.

The Providence Journal / Kris Craig

“And God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good.”

Genesis, 1:3-4

Emerging from the darkened streets of a cloudy night, Louis Medina and Lauren Smith pull into the sprawling parking lot at the National Shrine of Our Lady of La Salette, get out of their car and immediately find themselves drawn to the light.

Medina, 53, grabs his cane, as Smith, 45, puts her granddaughter in a stroller. Then the two friends amble off toward the brightest displays.

“He’s lucky to be here,” says Smith.

Just a few weeks earlier, firefighters used the Jaws of Life to pry Medina from his badly wrecked car. He escaped with broken ribs and some minor injuries. Times already were difficult. Disabled from a broken back and unable to work, he’s had to live on government assistance. This year, he got rid of cable TV at his Pawtucket apartment and is eating cheaper by buying Spam and other canned goods — all to scrape by and to save for Christmas gifts for his 7-year-old boy.

“He expects Santa,” Medina says.

“I had to shut off the Internet,” adds Smith, whose rent just went up $300 on her subsidized apartment in Providence.

Still, the two are all smiles as they pass lights arranged in the shape of Christmas trees and head toward a glowing, life-size Nativity scene.

“It’s gorgeous, very soothing,” Medina says. “You feel blessed.”

As economic turmoil envelops the country in a seemingly unrelenting darkness, the approaching holidays usher in a season of light, both spiritual and visual. This year, the contrast between light and dark is as stark as it is between despair and hope, cynicism and faith.

For weeks now, displays of Christmas lights have shone brightly — from houses with a few window candles to others virtually wrapped in colorful lights, and from ordinary churches brightened by the flicker of votive candles to spectacular displays like those at La Salette.

This season of festivals of light only grows brighter this week, as Jews tonight begin celebrating eight days of Hanukkah by lighting candelabra and as African-Americans do the same on Friday when they begin celebrating seven days of Kwanzaa, a secular holiday.

What is it that draws both the religious and the nonbelievers to these displays of light? And can they truly ward off the darkness?

For Ramona Bass-Kolobe, coordinator of a free Kwanzaa celebration on Dec. 28 at St. Michael Church in Providence, the lights are a metaphor for community, for people supporting one another, especially in the most trying of times.

“We need to do a Kwanzaa celebration together more than at any other time. We need to get together and celebrate that which is not based on the economy — and that’s our values. Our values are intact…. This is not costing any money. People will say ‘I can’t do something because I don’t have money.’ We can inspire each other. This event is really about a lot of motivation and inspiration for our community.”

When discussing festivals of light, Bass-Kolobe, an arts and culture consultant who now lives most of the year in Botswana, doesn’t even like to use the word dark.

“I’m using the word shadow instead of dark,” she says. “If you look at a shadow, you know there is light somewhere. If you keep moving, you’ll find the source of the light in your life, in your surroundings, in your environment, in your nation. Now more than ever we need to keep moving…. A lot of people are paralyzed by this situation.”

For Rabbi Andrew Klein, of Temple Habonim in Barrington, Hanukkah and other seasonal celebrations are focused on light because these are the days of the year most deprived of sunlight.

“Even when there are not the difficult times that we are in right now … there is always a lot of darkness right now. It’s really no coincidence that all of the major faiths have holidays to celebrate light in a period where there is a lot of darkness. The light is a symbol of hope.

“So when people are in dark time, whether it is just the usual darkness of winter or unusually dark times, difficult times with fears of joblessness and financial instability and uncertainty, it’s really important to be able to focus on hope and to be able to focus on the idea — and having faith — that things will be better.”

In Christian faith, said the Rev. Rebecca Spencer, of Providence’s Central Congregational Church, “We acknowledge the darkness that’s around us all of the time, that the world is always troubled and broken, but that the hope we have, through Jesus, is that that is not the final word. The final word is the coming of light. And justice and peace. We can be part of the work that can bring that closer to reality.”

She noted that in America these days “people are particularly anxious” and that “makes the reality of Christmas, the reality of hopefulness and the reality of light shining through the darkness even more poignant when things are particularly bleak outside. We realize the gift of love and life we are given, even in the midst of tragedy.”

Both she and Bass-Kolobe compared spiritual awareness in America with that in poor countries, such as Botswana, where the people are more resilient in coping with ever-present adversity.

“It’s almost easier when you don’t have the material things” to focus on what’s truly essential, such as love and shelter, says Spencer. Then you can be “giving” and say, “I do have these gifts I can share.”

When it comes to sheer wattage, no organization outshines La Salette, with its 300,000 to 400,000 lights on nearly 25 acres in Attleboro. In a rainbow of colors, they adorn trees and outline the shapes of snowflakes, stars and angels blowing horns. In a typical Christmas season, an estimated 250,000 people visit the shrine, with its lights display, concerts, gift shop and worship services.

“Dream and struggle, hope and healing, dark night of the search and bright lights pointing the way” are what the shrine is all about, according to its Web site.

“We have been experiencing a really good number of people coming this year,” says the Rev. André Patenaude. “And I think part of it is because of the problems we are experiencing in the world and society today, and the grimness of it all…. They know this place is a peaceful place. It really symbolizes hope.”

Just as La Salette survived a fire that gutted one of its main buildings in 1999, all must strive to overcome adversity, he says. Even this year, the shrine itself was facing financial troubles after gasoline prices kept visitors away during the summer, he says, but a decision was made not to curtail the light display (just to start using energy-saving LED lights).

“We thought about it, but people look forward to ‘what else has La Salette done this year?’ ”

But lights neither need to be extravagant nor different to bring joy. Every year, Mark Mason strings up plain white lights at the Barrington house where he lives with his wife and son. He has a few reindeer, some icicle lights on the roofline of his ranch and strings of lights draped over the bushes that line the driveway and the path to his front door.

Plenty of people drive by, lured to the otherwise quiet street by a neighbor’s extravagant display, which Mason jokes can be seen, like the Great Wall of China, from outer space. After Mason finishes putting his lights up at Thanksgiving time, he goes and helps his neighbor with the lights that generously cover his roof, his yard, and his large boat.

“We do it simply to get people in the spirit,” he says. “If people go by, they get a little more happy and more cheerful and they tend to pass it on. It’s like a chain reaction.”

And with the economic troubles, he says, lights are an enticing invitation to “take a little break from reality and smile at something simple.”

rsalit@projo.com