ash wednesday and easter sunday

lent, which seems to be the favourite season of the year for many of us, has come again. lent means, simply, spring--the time of the year when the days lengthen.

but it is also the time when we are brought back into our lord's journey to jerusalem, for his exodus, as the greek of the account of the transfiguration in the gospel according to luke says literally.

our lord asks us to take up our cross daily and follow him. we say, oh my, that's a little harsh. i'll give up refined sugar.

our lord says we must die to self, that unless we are willing, as a grain of wheat, to fall to ground and die, there will be no life in us. we say, that is of course metaphorical. i don't have to die, not really. i'll give up chocolate.

our lord invites us to leave everything and follow him. we recognize that would require us to completely reorder our lives, so we say, oh, i'll read a few more psalms during lent.

we make these decisions, and we invite ourselves to miss the glory of the resurrection. we reduce the resurrection to getting to eat a nice, sweet, chocolate easter bunny, and returning to a shorter time of prayer.

i invite you to consider this poem by scott cairns.

adventures in new testament greek: metanoia

Repentance, to be sure,
but of a species far
less likely to oblige
sheepish repetition.

Repentance, you'll observe
glibly bears the bent
of thought revisited,
and mind's familiar stamp

--a quaint, half-hearted
doubleness that couples
all compunction with a pledge
of recurrent screw-up.

The heart's metanoia,
on the other hand, turns
without regret, turns not
so much away, as toward.

as if the slow pilgrim
has been surprised to find
that sin is not so bad
as it is a waste of time.