It’s March. It’s late summer in the southern hemisphere. I can still see my childhood home baking in the noon-day sun. A turtle dove coos halfheartedly high in a tree somewhere while Bowser our Boxer-Ridgeback offers a less-than-enthusiastic woof in return. The red earth is hard and the short grass tan. It’s not as hot as it’s been, but make no mistake: it is hot. The evenings begin to carry a coolness on the breeze; the promise of Autumn crispness invigorates the early mornings. It’s the best time to be out on a run.
This March scene may elude the imagination of a New Englander, for whom a less than warm day proclaims the promise of spring. Winter’s chill lingers even as the snow recedes and rivers rise. Sustaining warm days are months away, but cardinals and sparrows and the cheeky jesters of the bird kingdom, the mockingbirds, rejoice in the blessings of a new day.
These images of south and north seem a world apart, and in some respects they truly are. Yet even now there is a season that profoundly binds them together. It’s called Lent. Lent is the 40-day stretch from Ash Wednesday to the glorious miracle of Easter. Lent is a time for introspection and repentance, a time to fast and a time to prepare. The word at its Latin origin means spring, and belies the northern-centered nature of early Christianity and, mournfully, the pervading self-centered views of many Christians in the northern hemisphere.
It is indeed a great gift to experience Lent in the north, where the promise of resurrection can be seen in the crocus, lily and daffodil. The whole earth comes to life under one’s feet. Creeks, rivers, and ponds swell, cleansing and replenishing, sustaining and energizing. Sunny days warm the air and make spirits bright. The earth softens and the ground thaws and soon farmers will till the soil.
But what about Lent at a time of autumn?
I cast my memory back to shortening days and longer nights, the foreboding of very cold dark hours. Searing summer heat gives way to replenishing coolness and the promise of comfortable days. Late-afternoon thundershowers, diminishing in frequency, turn tan to green and soften the earth just enough for winter blooms to start their journey toward bright sunlight. It’s a time of harvest and thanksgiving for the bounty of the earth. Animal life increases its activity, and the world is abuzz with the hum of insects spreading pollen in expectation that the pending winter will give way to spring.
Christianity, a dizzying array of traditions and churches, spans the globe. Yet it’s easy to become focused on just one place and way. Let us be mindful this Lent that the world is wide and that our brothers and sisters in the faith span the globe. Let us consider the beauty and meaning of Lent as spring, but also Lent as autumn. We should celebrate the mystery of God’s love, revealed in the life of God’s own Son, Jesus the Christ, given for the whole world, equally. In the words of the hymn: “Blessed be the ties that bind our hearts in Christian Love; the fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.”