Bright Sadness
Part of the fun work of putting together the Salt of the Earth: A Christian Seasons Calendar is sifting through the submissions of artwork and picking our favourites to defend when we come together as a group to make our final decision. Sometimes this process is easy, when an artist will capture and illustrate a season evocatively and we can all agree on the selection, but usually there are too many good images, too many talented artists, and we have to persuade each other of our choices with a good argument. And the image we ultimately chose for the Lent page this year, Conviction of the Spirit by Maryann Leake, was in need of a good argument!
Usually, when artists image-ine Lent for us, we receive submissions of depictions of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness, bleak landscapes, illustrations in dull or dark colours with penitent moods, many purple abstractions. We expect Lent to look like we’re lingering on Ash Wednesday as a sombre, 40-day memento mori, or like the first part of Psalm 22 which Jesus references on the cross, a slow wasting away to dust. Leake’s worshipper, cast in vibrant yellow with hands raised in praise and eyes closed in prayer, is not what we expect Lent to look like.
The psalmist’s worship runs through Psalm 22 but it gets overshadowed by the psalmist’s groaning when we read it on Good Friday, when we’re present to the details of Jesus fulfilling the scripture; the umbra of the suffering of Christ. We must somehow hold together the solemnity of the cross, the psalmist’s crying out to the LORD in agony and desperation, with the joy of the glory of salvation, the psalmist’s praise and proclamation of hope.
An argument for choosing Leake’s image is an idea from the Eastern Orthodox tradition of Lent as a “bright sadness,” a paradox that captures the fact of the cross. The worshipper is standing in light, lit from all angles: a halo surrounds the figure and the person’s face is directed at the source of the light. And though the face is not downcast, the expression isn’t happy either; there is a seriousness that makes a bit of shadow show up in the person’s closed eyes. Are the raised and open hands in awe or surrender? Does the ashy sign of the cross on the forehead say more about the fleetingness of mortal life, or the eternal hope of our faith? Standing in awe of God, remembering and turning to God, telling about God, we, along with the psalmist, proclaim God’s deliverance in this season, acknowledge its bright sadness, and say with the whole great congregation that God has indeed done it.
Eternal God, we both bow down in humility and stand up in awe of Your glory in this heart-breaking and heart-filling season. Count us among those who seek You, praise You, serve You, and live for You by the grace and mercy of Jesus, in whose holy name we pray. Amen.
Kate Miller