Dear Friends in Christ,
It’s been said that like stars in constellation around the nearer planets are the lesser figures around the central characters in the Baroque paintings of Peter Paul Ruben. One of his finer works, Samson and Delilah, hangs in the British Museum of Art. Behind the young, beautiful and voluptuous Delilah lurks a wizened old lady who holds a candle brightening the central action, where a young man cuts the locks of Samson’s luxurious hair, while the biblical hero sleeps, his head upon Delilah’s lap, her breasts exposed, her body and clothes looking recently ravished. Samson’s shaded muscular torso shows the influence of Michelangelo upon the painter’s portrayal of human form. Further back in the darkness, behind Samson’s extended massive body, the Philistine soldiers are just entering the door, their dark shadows have preceded them into the room.
Ruben’s painting vividly portrays the scene of Samson’s life just before the moment when the biblical Book of Judges says, “And he awoke from his sleep, and said, ”˜I will go out as at other times, and shake myself free.’ And he did not know that the Lord had left him.” (Judges 16:20) Samson’s career as a spiritually anointed deliverer of Israel is a particularly instructive example for our era. He lived in an age of economical, political, and moral upheaval. Many of the older models of leadership and social order were faltering or seemed inadequate in the present environment. Although he was raised from birth for his leadership role, he had lost connection with the formative discipline chosen for him as his birthright. His failure cannot be attributed to any inadequacy in his experience of God or to a lack of the Spirit’s presence in his life. The breakdown and consequent vulnerability which led to his personal failure, depicted so graphically in Ruben’s painting, was the result of his poor understanding and subsequent neglect of the spiritual discipline that was designed by God to channel the anointing that God’s presence brought. He lived too much in the moment, which was the curse of his age and ours as well””in the doctrine of instant gratification. In such an era it is not enough to have a personal experience of God. We must also learn and embrace the disciplines of the spiritual life if we expect to replace old destructive habits with the new life-giving behavior of faith. Enter then Lent.
I noticed it while thumbing through my appointment book the other day””Ash Wednesday and Lent. When I was a busy parish priest it at times struck dread in my heart. Yet occasionally it brought a calmness to my soul, not unlike reading a book on the spiritual life by Evelyn Underhill; or spying a bud opening on the Elberta Peach tree in the backyard; or maybe glancing around a corner at a long missed friend just dropping into town with some time to spare and an inclination to get caught up on one another’s life. I remember one week just before Lent when a parishioner dropped a note in my mail slot. “Fr. Mark, when you get the time give me a call. I need an appointment. Time for a spiritual checkup.” The handwriting didn’t look frazzled. No trace of dreadfulness in the phrasing. If any mood came from the note it was anticipation””more akin to a visit with one’s travel agent than to the dentist.
Time for a spiritual checkup; that’s what Ash Wednesday is. Samson could’ve used it. And Lent, well among other things, it’s a spiritual shape-up for one’s Christian life; a godly housecleaning before a welcomed visitor; a spring spading and planting of the garden; even a long intimate walk with Christ. Repentance after all, once you commit yourself to it, usually ends in joy. I know the downside of the season as well as anyone. There are a lot of Lenten hymns I don’t care for. Some are dirge-like, others drab””(incidentally, Fr. Michael Wright has written a fine one and is willing to share it); the Kyrie can’t compare with the Gloria (surely there’s a good one out there, I’m just wanting to find it); and mea culpas just don’t yield themselves to full-throated praise from the heart as do Alleluias! Still, I have to admit when the pall of purple finally does give way on Easter morning, it’s like the end and the beginning of all things: the packed car starting out on vacation; the tied-fly cast lightly on the water; the closing of a good book: the opening of a better one.
May a rejuvenating Lent come your way!
Blessings in Christ our Savior and Lord,
–(The Rt. Rev.) Mark Lawrence is Bishop of South Carolina