“There is an urgent need, then, to see once again that faith is a light, for once the flame of faith dies out, all other lights begin to dim. The light of faith is unique, since it is capable of illuminating every aspect of human existence. A light this powerful cannot come from ourselves but from a more primordial source: in a word, it must come from God.” Pope Francis

One of the most memorable experiences of our family was the two weeks we spent driving across country to Montana with our best friends and their children. We called it the “15 for the road” trip, 11 children and four adults packed into a nine passenger station wagon and an old van named Bessy, and Bessy didn’t have air conditioning.

The youngest of my six, now 27, was three. We relied on walkie-talkies, not cell phones, and we made no plans ahead of time. It was traveling by the seat of our pants, or on the tail of a tornado, as we discovered in some places, and it was awesome.

The one good thing I did in advance was to pick up a booklet of Motel Six locations across the country. Though we had decided to camp most of the way, I had a feeling there would be times when we needed something else, so I stuck that little book in the pocket of the car door, and it ended up being a God-send.

People have asked me, why Motel Six? Truthfully, aside from their exceptionally reasonable rates at the time, it was their commercial – We’ll leave the light on for you. I was drawn to that motel from the first time I heard their slogan, because the image of a light in the window was a powerful, meaningful image for me from the time I was a young child walking home from school, especially in the cold weather.

Winter often came early in upstate New York where I lived, and I remember most vividly walking down my long street from the bus stop after sunset, snow crunching underfoot and flakes glistening in the sliver moonlight.  It was beautiful, but cold, and I was always warmed by the yellow glow of lamp light shining from our living room window. I could see it as soon as I got off the bus. There was never a time when I arrived home that the light wasn’t on. It became for me a symbol of warmth and abundance, security and love.  As I matured, it also became a sign of Christ.

Because of my experiences as a child, it was easy for me, as an adult, to understand Christ as the light of the world. It is never a big leap from the love of home and family to the love of God made manifest in Jesus.

But I think often about those for whom there has never been a light in the window, who know no home – physical, spiritual or emotional – and have no experience of the warmth and security that can only be found among those who love you. We are tempted to stand in judgment of those who are homeless, yet we are each called to be the light of Christ for others – and not just those that we like or understand. Imagine the brilliance of 1.2 billion Catholics shining like Christ – homelessness would no longer exist.

And, by the way, for its 50th anniversary in 2012, Motel 6 began using a new motto, one that would be easily adapted to the Church: “2000+ years, the Light’s still on.”

Mary Morrell serves as managing editor of The Monitor.