A Carnival of Color
As we anticipate Easter Sunday on April 9, today -- Ash Wednesday -- marks the beginning of a season of introspection and spiritual self-awareness. Whether you choose to "give something up for Lent" or you are waiting for the first crocuses to bloom, how will you let this be a season of reflection and faith? What spiritual practices can you experiment with as you seek the Lord's presence this spring?
As you ponder, consider this 1928 poem by American poet Louis Untermeyer titled "Ash Wednesday":
I
Shut out the light or let it filter through
These frowning aisles as penitentially
As though it walked in sackcloth. Let it be
Laid at the feet of all that ever grew
Twisted and false, like this rococo shrine
Where cupids smirk from candy clouds and where
The Lord, with polished nails and perfumed hair,
Performs a parody of the divine.
The candles hiss; the organ-pedals storm;
Writhing and dark, the columns leave the earth
To find a lonelier and darker height.
The church grows dingy while the human swarm
Struggles against the impenitent body’s mirth.
Ashes to ashes. . . . Go. . . . Shut out the light.
II
And so the light runs laughing from the town,
Pulling the sun with him along the roads
That shed their muddy rivers as he goads
Each blade of grass the ice had flattened down.
At every empty bush he stops to fling
Handfuls of birds with green and yellow throats;
While even the hens, uncertain of their notes,
Stir rusty vowels in attempts to sing.
He daubs the chestnut-tips with sudden reds
And throws an olive blush on naked hills
That hoped, somehow, to keep themselves in white.
Who calls for sackcloth now? He leaps and spreads
A carnival of color, gladly spills
His blood: the resurrection—and the light.
_____
The Lord does not call us to gaudy displays or flaunting religion. He simply wants us to come before him -- privately, quietly, in our messiness, in our questioning, in our disappointments, in our sorrow, in our anxiety, in our apathy. And when the canvas is wiped clean, he will begin to paint anew. Who is painting the color in your world?
Blessings on you,
Jennie