Soul Food

Michele Marr

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under

heaven.

-- Ecclesiastes 3:1

This is beyond doubt my favorite season of the year, both on the

secular calendar and on the Church calendar. It’s the place where winter

and spring and death and new life cross paths.

California is blessed with singularly temperate weather. Those who

visit us from more frigid climates mention it often and never let us

forget it. I’ve lived in ice and snow, so I can empathize. Really, I can.

But I sometimes feel cheated out of the seasons and cheated out of the

way God speaks through them.

I took one of my favorite photographs on the edge of winter and

spring. I took it from the balcony of a house where we lived in Bavaria,

Germany. At first glance, it looks like a photo of a white sheet, a white

sheet with a small hole in it.

But when you look closer, the hole becomes a crocus. Its saffron and

purple petals have gently pushed the smooth, unblemished snow aside.

Every time I happen across that photo it takes my breath away.

That crocus was the first I saw after a long, bleak winter. It made my

heart pound and the sun seemed to brighten. Just an hour before, when I

had first opened the shutters of our windows, the crocus was not there.

When I saw it, I thought of all the times I had heard someone say,

after the unexpected, sudden death of someone, “But, I only just saw him.

I just spoke to him. He was just right here!”

The crocus was like that, but in reverse. A moment before, it had been

in its grave. Then there it stood. Even a thick, icy blanket of a long

winter’s snow could not hold it down.

In my mind’s eye I imagined the Lord, standing on his balcony, waiting

for all the souls who rest in him to stand up from their graves. I

imagined him waiting, full of anticipation, the way I had been waiting

for the crocuses that winter.

That was a morning late in Lent. Lent, like winter, can feel stark.

Among those who observe Lent there can be a lot of thought, talk and even

grumbling about giving things up.

Some give up chocolate. Others may give up television, golf or movies.

In my Antiochian Orthodox church, we are all expected to give up meat,

fish, dairy products and oil during Lent, as well as excessive

entertainment and social engagements.

And while this giving up of things and food and activities is vital to

the season, it is not meant to be the ends of it, but more the means.

In fasting we find rest from the strivings and distractions of this

world. We exercise our ability to control our appetites and passions

rather than letting them control us. Fasting gives us time to pray more

and savings to give more to those less fortunate than we are ourselves.

Fasting clears our hearts and minds and souls the way spring-cleaning

clears our homes. It gives God room to abide with us.

Lent, like winter, can seem like a harsh season of short days and long

dark nights. But the darkness comes from the corners of our own selfish

hearts.

In fasting, prayer and charity we find the strength to abandon the

things we really need to give up -- things like pride, envy, resentment

and indifference. We find the strength to truly live.

Where Lent crosses over to Easter, just as winter crosses over to

spring, this is the place where death loses its hand to new life. Every

time I come here it takes my breath away.

* MICHELE MARR is a freelance writer and graphic designer from

Huntington Beach. She has been interested in religion and ethics for as

long as she can remember. She can be reached at o7

michele@soulfoodfiles.com.f7