I can’t get over the continued thematic follow-through of this idea that Jedi aren’t truly Jedi unless they’re standing up in defense of the innocent and helpless, they have to be active in the galaxy, they have to spread kindness and compassion wherever they go, it’s an uncontrollable urge, it’s an itch, “They cannot help it.“
And also the idea that it’s FORCE ITSELF that is whispering to them, calling them back, calling them home, telling them to take up their swords again, reach out in faith and find that the Light never left you, it’s still inside you and it needs you because the galaxy is so so dark and bleak and hopeless and there’s so much evil everywhere and the galaxy needs them to stand up and step out of the shadows and into the light so that they can reignite people’s hope.
It’s the pauses of awe and wonder in even the most miserable and selfish of underworld denizens because that’s a Jedi, the Jedi are back, the Jedi are here, everything will be okay now.
It’s F knighting herself, cutting her own padawan braid and proudly declaring she is a Jedi to save a frightened exploited village bride.
It’s Kanan igniting his saber for the first time in years to protect his future padawan and a clutch of Wookie slaves and the rattled composure in the Imperials when they realize, “Holy shit that’s a Jedi.“
It’s Cal and Cere deciding they were done hiding, done running from the Empire, they were going to fight back, and Saw gleefully pointing to them to inspire his band of Rebels.
It’s Obi-Wan unburying his lightsaber even after being so hopeless and broken and full of guilt and self-blame because people still need him, he’s the only one they can trust.
The whole Dark Times as a sloooooowly turning eucatastrophe, tiny lights of hope struggling to hold back the darkness long enough. Holding out. Buying time until the twin suns can rise. Until Luke and Leia and the destruction of the Death Star and the death of the Emperor and the glorious return of light to the galaxy.
I love it.