Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Shrove Tuesday

Christ the King, Ghent Altarpiece, Van Eyck
Lately, I have been going out to walk shortly before morning twilight. Where I live, it's possible for me to walk down the middle of our street. There are a few lights here and there so that I can see well enough, but for the most part, it is dark. I walk for while and turn around and go back to my driveway and then out again. Pretty soon, the sky begins to lighten a bit, and every time I turn around in the driveway, I see a different scene. It's a very nice way to begin the day.

While I walk, I sometimes listen to the Liturgy of the Hours, and this morning as I was coming back to the house for the last time, pretty tired and achy, I was listening to Psalm 24.
O gates, lift high your heads;
grow higher, ancient doors.
Let him enter, the king of glory!  
 Who is the king of glory?
The Lord, the mighty, the valiant,
the Lord, the valiant in war.  
 O gates, lift high your heads;
grow higher, ancient doors.
Let him enter, the king of glory!  
Who is he, the king of glory?
He, the Lord of armies,
he is the king of glory.
And I was thinking of soldiers, coming home weary from a battle where they have fought side by side with their king. They've seen him tired and hunger and dirty, just like themselves. Now though, they are home, and the battle is won, and they see their king lifted up before them in his royal robes and crown.

But we aren't there yet. Tonight is the eve of our battle. I'm a little wary because last year, it was a really difficult battle, and I was worn out by Holy Week. Of course, this year might be entirely different, in fact, just as we can never seem to return to the same joyful moments, but frequently find new ones, our fasts are never quite the same. Hopefully, we won't be the same as we are now when we celebrate the Resurrection.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A few years ago, I wrote in a post that although I look like a dumpy housewife, inside I look like this.

However, while I was writing the series about Giotto's Virtues and Vices, I realized that about the best I can hope for is this.

Now I just need her virtue--and her lion pelt.


1 comment:

  1. Well, I'm reading this on Ash Wednesday, and I think it will likely be the first Ash Wednesday to have this particular piece of Handel's music floating around in the background of my mind all day. It's a wonderful combination, though, the thought that even though on our own we are nothing but dust (and could not be even that on our own), he is the King of glory, and he shares that glory with us. It's wondrous. (And I'll let my brother the raccoon trapper know that if he comes across a lion pelt, he has a neighbor who might be interested....)