Letter from Amy: March 26, 2025

Pietà (after Delacroix), Vincent van Gogh, 1889

Dear Incarnation,

I remember a personal retreat I took a few years ago, when I was a brand-new rector. I booked a room at Holy Cross Abbey and when I arrived, I suddenly realized that I was far more tired than I had grasped. My journal and stack of books went untouched. Instead, it took every effort I had simply to "put myself in the path of oncoming beauty" (a phrase borrowed from Curt Thompson). I spent a few hours alone in a silent chapel, watching shadows move across the pews while somewhat aimlessly reading the psalms. I walked to vespers in the rain, enjoying the raindrops on my bare arms (this was summer). I sat on the porch after a storm and watched rainbows flash and fade in the waning light. It was all I could do, and it was exactly what I needed.

I know that many of you are weary. So weary. Perhaps even too weary for books, for journaling, for hobbies, for the things that might typically refresh you. You may not be able to retreat to an abbey for 24 hours (a rare privilege), but can you place yourself in the path of oncoming beauty in some small way, right where you are? The beauty of creation, the beauty of sunlight and shadows, the beauty of human beings, the beauty of music, of art, of history, of community? This, too, is a way of resisting acedia (the focus of our Lent sermons). On that note, I thought I'd share a few beautiful things that have been nourishing me lately.

• The first is the van Gogh painting in this post. I just love the unexpected portrayal of the grieving Mary and dying Jesus as agrarian peasants out in the fields.

• Another is this poem by Wendell Berry. I've been reading one of his Sabbath poems each day during Lent. They're all so good, but this one particularly moved me:

Sabbaths (1979) X.

Whatever is foreseen in joy

Must be lived out from day to day.

Vision held open in the dark

By our ten thousand days of work.

Harvest will fill the barn; for that

The hand must ache, the face must sweat.

And yet no leaf or grain is filled

By work of ours; the field is tilled

And left to grace. That we may reap,

Great work is done while we’re asleep.

When we work well, a Sabbath mood

Rests on our day, and finds it good.

• I've also been reading and re-reading this poem, which my daughter recently shared with me and I can't seem to stop thinking about: A Blessing by James Wright.

• And . . . creation! Spring! My family has been trying to squeeze in some extra hiking lately (we're training for a big sabbatical hike!) and I've been marveling the resurrection miracle of the natural world coming back to life.
  

• My son and I are re-listening to the audiobook of The Fellowship of the Rings, which is beautifully read by Andy Serkis. I'm often surprised by how strengthened I feel by the hobbits' humble courage!

• Finally, I had the privilege of leading the Maryland kids' Sacramental Formation on Sunday, and they had some really beautiful reflections (sandwiched between plenty of jokes and Minecraft references). We were reading Jesus' parable of the True Vine, and one child observed that the soil is like the start of creation: dark and formless. Another observed that our baptism is like a seed planted in that soil. And another reflected that the sap that flows through the vine and branches is like the strength and courage that God gives us to want to follow him (not just to follow, but to want to). Beautiful, right?

But perhaps dwelling on small beautiful things seems a little frivolous when the world is on fire. Here's a quote from the Curt Thompson article I linked above:

"It is tempting to think that playing the cello in the face of snipers and artillery guns is mere folly, and that in the real world, the world of violence, beauty has no power whatsoever. But beauty is exactly what God gave us in Jesus. He entered a world that eventually surrounded him, putting him in its crosshairs and on its cross. And . . . he remained. But it was Beauty, not death, that had the final word."

Amen! I encourage you this Lent to get out into God's good and hurting world, and place yourself in the path of oncoming beauty.

Holy Week is coming soon, when our liturgy offers some of the most beautiful moments of the entire church year, opportunities to immerse ourselves fully in the beauty of redemption. We're still sorting out a few final rental times and details, but we'll have more information for you on Sunday (spoiler alert: WE'RE BRINGING BACK THE VIGIL!!!).

With love,

Amy