Often when I consider Lenten reading, I turn towards spiritual classics or stories of the saints. Poetry, however, offers a meditative way to focus our minds and hearts on just what it is that we remember in this holy season. Herman Sutter’s Stations: A Poem Cycle and Nikki Grimes’ At Jerusalem’s Gate: Poems of Easter offer thoughtful re-imaginings of the events of Holy Week.

Stations: A Poem Cycle by Herman Sutter (Wiseblood Books) is a slim volume consisting of one poetic reflection for each of the stations of the cross. Shifting voices and forms keep the reader off-balance in a way that feels appropriate to the topic, and rich language begs for the sort or re-reading that facilitates reflection.

For example, “Station I: Pilate Condemns Jesus to Death” asks in Pilate’s voice, “Where is your throne?” The question is answered in part in “Station II: Jesus Accepts the Cross”: “Receive thy burnished throne; bear it away,/ thou silent king of all you survey.” This sort of linguistic and spiritual depth, with words and ideas sliding under the surface then reappearing a few poems later, pervades the entirety of the work. The different kinds and meanings of “silence” which these poems suggest would itself be a rich source of reflection.

Aimed at younger readers (the publishers recommend ages 10 and up), Nikki Grimes’ collection At Jerusalem’s Gate: Poems of Easter (Eerdmans Books for Young Readers) follows the Easter story from Christ’s entrance into Jerusalem through his encounter with his disciples on the road to Emmaus. She doesn’t shy away from the painful moments of the story, and reminds the reader that Easter only holds its full meaning if we recognize “the price Jesus paid…and that price included suffering on the way to the cross.” Rich with reflections and honest questions, At Jerusalem’s Gate is a book to share with older children as you enter into the mystery of Holy Week and Easter. 

“Evidence of Mercy” considers what was for me a new question: What must Malchus, the slave whose ear Peter cut off during Jesus’ arrest and whose wound Jesus healed, have thought of the crucifixion? Grimes gives Malchus a question that must have been in many other people’s minds. “[He] puzzled why/ one with such power/ would consent to die.” 

As if Grimes’ poetry weren’t powerful enough on their own, richly colored and moving woodcuts by David Frampton promise another way to enter into reflection on the events of Holy Week and Easter. At Jerusalem’s Gate may be intended for young readers, but its poems and images offer rich insights for Christians of any age.

If, as Plato (supposedly) suggests, “Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history,” then Stations and At Jerusalem’s Gate offer abundant opportunities to draw near the truth of our salvation this Lenten season.

Now that Lent is over and the Easter season is in full swing, I thought it would be a good time (!) to share two Lenten reflection books that I really enjoyed this year. Probably I should save this post for right around the beginning of February next year…but there is little chance I’ll remember at that point.

The first is No Unlikely Saints by Cameron Bellm. For each week of Lent, this book considers a different (mostly modern) saint or blessed who speaks to our current moment. I learned a lot about some holy people I knew as well as some I hadn’t met before from the reflections, and the prayer suggestions were really challenging and beautiful. I’m considering using it again next year because I know I still have plenty of growing left to do in many of the areas it addresses.

Second, my older girls and I read Letters for Pilgrimage by Sarah Lenora Gingrich and A. N. Tallent. This one is directed at Orthodox Christian young ladies, but as a Roman Catholic adult I still found the reflections helpful. (I also learned what Clean Monday is, and felt slightly guilty at how easy Roman Catholic Lent is compared to Orthodox Lent!) Again, beautiful, hopeful, challenging, and encouraging writing from women “who have survived the wilderness of life,” as their publisher puts it.

I especially love that both of these books are written by what Julian of Norwich calls our “even Christians” – women just like the rest of us, just living our lives and trying our best to follow Jesus. That means their words are both challenging and possible – exactly what my Lent needed this year.

I set myself a writing goal for Lent: one poem a day, related in some way to the daily readings. I knew it would be a challenge, but I sit down to write almost every day anyway, so it should have been just the first part of my usual writing time, repurposed.

I did not expect it to be so hard.

I think I’ve missed one day so far, so that feels like a victory. (Jacob has decided he does still need naps after all, so that has made it much easier.) Quality is another matter entirely. Sometimes I look at the readings and think, “What could I possibly have to say about that?” Sometimes I don’t even get that far – I feel too tired to even read, much less make something of my own. In those times I do it just because I said I would, and sometimes I’m rewarded by a poem that isn’t totally terrible.

Needless to say, I haven’t written anything I’m willing to share. Yet.

Also, I will not be continuing this practice after Easter. I had a teacher in middle school who had stopped giving things up for Lent, because everything she gave up for Lent she ended up giving up for good. I’ve never had that problem, and don’t expect to start now.

On the other hand, this feels like a “storing up treasure” experience – besides the close attention it’s forced me to pay to Scripture, I’ll have forty-ish first-draft poems by Easter. That’s months and months of revisioning waiting to happen…and while some of them will certainly be left on the shelf, there are already a couple I’m excited to spend some more time with, to dig deeper into, and form something thoughtful and perhaps even beautiful.

Also, I am looking forward to Holy Week. I may skip the readings for Holy Saturday and write about the Exsultet. It includes bees. Twice. That’s liturgy I can get behind.

Check out my latest post over at Mighty Is Her Call!

Ah, the things we learn from the wee ones.

For those of you who have ever nursed a newborn (sorry guys!), you know about those precious little hands.  The ones you want to kiss and spend hours admiring.  And swaddle within an inch of their life so they will stop getting between the baby’s mouth and your breast when he’s hungry.  Because the hungrier he is, the more likely those sweet little hands are acting as appetizers…except they don’t take the edge of baby’s hunger, they just make him more frustrated.  And who has enough hands to hold up the baby, position the breast, AND gently hold two little hands out of the way?

Thus the swaddling.

The poor child just doesn’t realize that if he would put aside his desire for his hands (even though they are great for munching most of the time), something much more delicious and nourishing would suddenly come this way.

And now, for the slightly forced analogy to the spiritual life.

We never quite grow out of this tendency, do we?

Maybe it’s a not-so-great relationship, but we’re afraid that if we let it go, we’ll be alone.  Or a job we hate (or which simply isn’t good for us), but we’re afraid of not finding something that pays as much if we quit.

And then, of course, there’s sin.  What sins do we cling to, because they feel good, or maybe they just feel comfortable?  What do we fear if we let them go?

Are we too busy holding tight to our pride to seek God’s help and forgiveness?

What if we were to move our hands out of the way, and let God nourish us with his goodness?

It’s Lent, and lots of us have given something up (sleep in my case – thanks Jacob!).  Hopefully we’ve been able to clear away something that was actually in the way of our spiritual growth.  It’s a good time to reflect: How well have we used this opportunity, this little emptying, to allow God to nourish us?  What are we still clinging to, blocking God from filling us with his love and goodness?

Bonus:  Here is a great article about the little hands and breastfeeding – which makes me feel bad about all the swaddling, but sometimes I get desperate.  Still, it was illuminating, and helped me be less frustrated with hands-in-the-way phenomenon.