From the Interim - March 2011 Newsletter, St. John's, Waterbury, CT

As I write these words, snow flurries fall through the mid-February twilight sky outside my St. John’s office window.  They disappear, joining the masses of snow collected, frozen, thawed and frozen again on the roofs, grounds and paths of the church. The cold, snow and ice cover the earth. 

Driving along, I can see on the roadside layers of snow like geological strata, laid down over weeks like sedimentary rock settles over eons.  It feels as if it might be eons before this snow melts and white gives way to green.

This has been a winter to remember.  The last one like it I recall came in the mid-nineties, starting with a delightful snowfall on Christmas Eve, but then hitting us every Wednesday, it seemed, with a new storm.  By spring, we were more than ready for the warmth. 

When you read these words, spring will be mere weeks away and Lent will be right around the corner.  Lent means spring.  This is not just coincidence.  The very word “Lent” derives from the Anglo-Saxon word for spring, which for the intensely pious world of medieval Christendom, was a season dominated by the fasting requirements of the church.  The season of fasting dominated the season of new growth, taking its ancient name for itself.

This year, saying, “Lent means spring,” feels wonderful.  Storms may come and cold may persist for awhile, but the days will grow longer and warmer.  The hard crust surrounding us will disappear.

The hard crust around our hearts may take longer to thaw.  Not all of us, all the time, find ourselves with frozen hearts, but one of the persistent ways through which we fall into sin – that is, separate ourselves from the love of God – is through hardness of heart.  We do not allow ourselves to see, to empathize with, the pain, or the joy, of others.  We do not allow the warmth of God’s love to melt the ice around our hearts and souls.  One reason I think people have found this winter so oppressive is that it somehow reminds us of our own coldness toward God, our fellow human beings, and creation itself.  The ice makes us feel that nothing can release us from the grip of winter, within or without.

Let Lent this year turn you more toward the light of God’s love, as expressed through the love of those around you, the rhythms of the life of faith and the wonder of life returning to the earth.  Winter is a metaphor for death, spring for resurrection.

Use the weekdays, Sundays and rituals of Lent to come alive within.  Repentance means to turn.  Turn to the light, let your heart be free of cold.  Turn to Christ, whose death and resurrection overcame every barrier. Turn to the light God offers in every season.