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Morning Devotion for the Season of Lent
March 8, 2024
Invitatory
The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: O come, let us adore him.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.
Reading: “Easter” by Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy
There was rapture of spring in the morning
When we told our love in the wood,
For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad.
And I vowed that my life was good.
But there's winter of war in the evening,
And lowering clouds overhead,
There's wailing of wind in the chimney nook,
And I vow that my life lies dead.
For the sun may shine on the meadow lands
And the dog rose bloom in the lanes,
But I've only weeds in my garden, lad,
Wild weeds that are rank with the rains.
One solace there is for me, sweet but faint,
As it floats on the wind of the years,
A whisper that spring is the last true thing
And that triumph is born of tears.
It comes from a garden of other days,
And an echoing voice that cries,
Behold I am alive for evermore,
And in Me shall the dead arise.
Meditation - Winnie Smith
I had never heard of Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy, otherwise known as “Woodbine Willie,” until a couple of days ago. But March 8 is his feast day, when the Church commemorates his contributions.
Kennedy was an Anglican priest and poet. He served as a volunteer chaplain to the armed forces on the Western Front in World War I, and was said to have been given his nickname for providing Woodbine cigarettes and spiritual aid to injured and dying soldiers. After the war, he served parishes in London and continued writing but with a shifting emphasis on pacifism and Christian socialism. Kennedy died in 1945 while on a speaking tour for the Industrial Christian Fellowship.
“Easter” speaks of deep faith and hope in the midst of suffering. It uses familiar dichotomies: winter and spring, darkness and light, despair and hope. The progression is interesting: at the start, there is anticipation - there is optimism in love. Then the writer falls into total despair, into the depths of winter, to the point of feeling on the brink of death. Others might be happy - the sun may shine on them and flowers may sprout up in their lands, but for him, only weeds. Only sadness. And then, just when it feels as though this writer cannot go on - there is hope once again: “a whisper that spring is the last true thing.” There is anticipation of more life to come. It comes in the form of a voice: “Behold I am alive for evermore, and in Me shall the dead arise.”
I’ve read this poem several times now, and each time it is clearer, more beautiful, and more meaningful. It sounds to me like a lament psalm. Those are the psalms of despair with voices crying out for hope amid anguish. They always end with praise to God, which seems to pacify the writer. In this poem, we see a similar pattern: it ends with the ultimate hope - that of resurrection. Kennedy had been on the front lines of a gruesome war; he had an intimate understanding of suffering. So it is astounding that a man who had seen countless bodies, had pastored the dying and undoubtedly lost friends and comrades, could also see the hope of resurrection. He didn’t lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel of war.
In the midst of Lent, Easter feels far away. As the gray clouds of winter refuse to lift and reveal the sun behind them, that whisper of spring seems out of reach. But we know it is coming. Once again the empty tomb will be revealed to us, and the power of resurrection will be born anew in us all.
Collect for the Third Sunday in Lent
Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
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