On a cold and crisp morning, not too long ago, just after a surprise snowfall, I noticed that one of my hellebore plants was gloriously blooming, just to the left of our garage. I should say that while my planting efforts always start out well-intentioned… my enthusiasm and attention often begins to flag after a while (the weediness of my tomato beds is an indicator of this truth). 

So without much effort on my part, and taking the Ron Popeil approach to gardening of “setting and forgetting,” my heart was gladdened to see this glorious dark purple bloom, proudly showing off in an unglamourous spot, adjacent to the garbage, recycling, and compost bins. It was one “helluva hellebore” as one of my dear friends said; and truthfully, I had very little to do with it. 

Now, if you’re scratching your head wondering what I’m talking about, have no fear! A hellebore is a flowering plant. Like the crocus, hellebores are very early bloomers and it’s not uncommon for them to be peeking up and thriving even in snowstorms and on the most crystal frosty mornings. Their colors range from white with greenish tinges, to white with purple stripes, to straight up deep, dark purple. Given their timing and their color scheme, it makes sense that their colloquial name (given by earlier generations) is: Lenten Rose.*

We are only a few days into the season of Lent, the forty days that lead up to Holy Week and Easter. The Latin word used in the ancient Roman Catholic tradition, Quadragesima, (meaning ‘fortieth’), references both the days before Easter, and the forty days of Jesus’ trial and temptation in the Wilderness. The word Lent comes from the ancient Anglo-Saxon word for spring, Lenchten, meaning literally “to lengthen.”

This really resonates with me this year. Our Lenten journey is not only about the welcome relief that our daylight hours are increasing, but also the hope that this period of time leading up to Easter can stretch us a little bit; to look within ourselves, to study scripture, to give of our time and talent in service to others and the Church. To find a new way to connect with God and with others. To find peace within ourselves and to share that peace. To know that we are blessed and to share those blessings. One way to do this is to show up and to take the time to participate in the ways that you are able. This period of time isn’t about wallowing in our own misery and wretchedness, but to truly turn back to God, to calibrate and focus on the important things in our life. 

There are innumerable ways to do that. Programmatically we are offering a wide selection of opportunities for study and fellowship. But it is also important to note that our standing ministries are always in need of a few willing hands and hearts for service—choir, lay reading, altar guild, ushers, counters, fellowship, teaching—try one on for a season, perhaps as your Lenten discipline; we all have a gift to offer the community. 

Ideally, this time of spiritual devotion and reflection doesn’t simply end with the conclusion of Lent and the return of Alleluias and the arrival of Easter lilies and chocolate bunnies. As the Litany of Penitence on Ash Wednesday concludes:

that those things may please him which we do on this day, and that 

the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at the last 

we may come to his eternal joy.  Book of Common Prayer, p. 269.

As I pray, so too, I hope. By the time Lent concludes—this time of lengthening and stretching—and budding flowers and changing seasons are upon us, my hope is that some of these actions will fashion within us a new strength in our faith, a renewed sense of purpose and ministry, and a perpetual reminder that God seeks our joy and desires our heart for greater service.

Flowers bud, blossom, flourish, and eventually fade, but the love of God and the light of Christ never diminishes. It is there always and that is indeed Good News, even in the most Lenten of cold, dark, chilly weekdays as we await the glory of Christ’s resurrection; the reminder of God’s message of Life and Love forevermore. I wish you, and all whom you love, a blessed and holy Lent.  May these forty days bring you joy and renewed purpose.

In Christ’s peace,

The Rev. Joshua D. Walters

Rector

*This is not to be confused with the peony that my grandmother called a Pentecost Rose, nor with the camellia which she called a Winter Rose. It seems, indeed, that a rose is a rose by “many” other names.