My cup overflows
Katharine Ames-Lewis
When I was a student, I remember visiting a room in another college which belonged to the conductor of a small choir I had recently joined. It was late February. On the outer door of his room was a poster – a picture of a bunch of daffodils, and the words:
It is spring!
It is also Lent!
I have often thought that the second statement seemed to be there to tone down the exuberance of the first. The energy of Spring needed to be brought to its sober senses. But, on second thoughts, perhaps the link between the daffodils and Lent, rather than with Easter, can give us some useful hints.
Of course, we may well associate the trumpeting joyousness of the yellow daffs more with Easter celebration rather with the sobering thoughts of ‘Forty days and forty nights’.
Our church is traditionally undecorated with flowers until Easter Eve, except for the breathing space of Mothering Sunday – or Refreshment Sunday as it is otherwise called – when we relieve the bareness with little posies of spring flowers.
But another name for the daffodil is ‘Lent Lily’ and ‘Lent’ is a word synonymous in Old English with ‘Spring’ (Lenz in German). So perhaps we can usefully look to the flower for some insights in the keeping of a good Lent.
I like to think of the daffodil as a brimming cup as much as a trumpet. The cup is open to receive and to be filled, just as we can be open to God’s presence in prayer. The cup also suggests our longing for community, for hospitality, for good things shared with others. Perhaps its chalice-like shape may express our longing for the sharing of the Common Cup of the Eucharist, and even remind us of the cup of suffering Christ drank for us at the crucifixion. Our cup may ‘overflow’ with blessings.
The flower cup will also proclaim joy and hope, its petals flung back in triumph at the Resurrection.
Spring does not need to be muted by Lent.
Can I let myself be filled this Lent with God’s glowing presence and the energy of spring so that I can sing out Alleluia at Easter?
