Roses and Ashes

Gather ye Rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

 Robert Herrick, “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time” 1648

In a rare, but not unprecedented, synchronicity this month, St. Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday will fall on the same day. These two dates last came together in 2018, and they will do it again in 2029. According to the Fayetteville Observer, this convergence seems to happen approximately three times in every one-hundred-years. The Twentieth Century also recorded three occurrences, in 1923, 1934, and 1945. (1)

The origins of our contemporary St. Valentine’s Day celebration are hidden in history. Even Roman Catholic sources record an astounding variety, of what can perhaps best be regarded as legends. He may have been a priest, a bishop, and/or a physician. It’s unclear whether the stories that have been combined under this saint’s name include the life one man, or the lives of two.

There is some evidence that, on an actual occasion, a prisoner named Valentine left a letter for his jailer’s daughter signed, “from your Valentine.” He’s said to have healed the child of her blindness; we all prefer to believe he did. He may well have converted her to Christianity. He might have converted her father, too. Plausible evidence does exist that a man named Valentine was imprisoned and martyred for his Christian faith. Other tales suggest that the little girl, and possibly her father, died with him. (2)

One fact is clear, that the official liturgical calendar of the United States makes no reference to a saint’s feast on February 14. On the USCCB website, it’s marked only with a purple dot indicating a day of Lent. There is no alternate reading for a saint’s feast day. (3)

Another mystery is how a saint, whom most legends report died as a martyr for his Faith, came to be a symbol of chocolate, flowers, and every other sort of indulgent romantic concupiscence.

Ash Wednesday, on the other hand, is a reminder of the death we all will experience. The Latin counsel memento mori, “remember you will die,” dates back to the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates, from sometime before his death in 399 B.C. (4).

The use of ashes as a symbol of penance and anointing for death by the Hebrews is documented in the Old Testament books of Esther 4:1, 484-465 B.C.; Job 42:6, 700-500 B.C.; Daniel 9:3, circa 550 B.C.; and Jonah 3:5-6, circa 500 B.C. (5)

Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale, Illustration from The Book of Old English Songs and Ballads, Circa 1920; Public
domain, via Wikimedia Commons

A solemn recognition of Ash Wednesday has been practiced since the earliest days of Christianity. The words, “For you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” from Genesis 3:19 (6), have been spoken through millennia in both the Eastern and Roman Catholic churches. They are still used for Ash Wednesday services in many Protestant churches today, as well. 

But the question remains. What meaning can we discern from this mysterious union of love with death, that seems to appear as a trinity in multiple centuries?

For one answer, we might turn again to scripture, and discover that Song of Songs is the only one of three writings classified by biblical scholars as ‘Wisdom books’ that appears in Protestant bibles. Our Catholic Bibles contain all three, with the Book of Wisdom and the Book of Sirach included (7). Here is another trinity.

The Song, also called Canticle of Canticles, is a romantic poem that evokes all the sensual joys of earthly lovers, as metaphors that describe God’s desirous love for us. In Christian churches it is read as allegory (8). The determination of the bride to reach her lover, and the strength of their bond, represent the Sacrament of Matrimony on earth and Christ’s love for His Bride, the Church, in eternity.

When the cross of ashes, death, and dust is marked on our foreheads again this year — and the day wavers from joy, to penance, and grief — may we remember the powerful lover who awaits us, and continue to sing the Canticle:

“… Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

For Love is strong as Death …

Deep waters cannot quench love,

nor rivers sweep it away …

 … You who dwell in the gardens,

my companions are listening for your voice–

let me hear it!

Swiftly, my lover,

be like a gazelle or a young stag

upon the mountain of spices.”

Song (Cant.) 8:6-7, 13-14 (9)

John William Waterhouse, Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May; 1909, Public domain, via Wikimedia
Commons.

© Copyright 2024 by Margaret King Zacharias

Featured Photo: John William Waterhouse, Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May,1908, Public domain, via
Wikimedia Commons.
Footnotes for Roses and Ashes and Sources for Further Reading
  1. https://www.fayobserver.com/story/news/live-wire/2018/02/06/live-wire-when-was-last-time-ash-wednesday-and-valentines-day-were-same-date/15307391007/#
  1. For a few different perspectives, see:
https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/will-the-real-st-valentine-please-stand-up
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Valentine
https://www.catholiceducation.org/en/culture/catholic-contributions/history-of-st-valentine.html
  1. https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/021424.cfm
  2. https://dailystoic.com/what-is-memento-mori/#:~:text=Memento%20Mori%20—%20(Latin%3A%20remember,but%20dying%20and%20being%20dead.”
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Socrates
  1. https://catholicstraightanswers.com/what-are-the-origins-of-ash-wednesday-and-the-use-of-ashes/
  1. https://bible.usccb.org/bible/genesis/3
  1. https://www.artesianministries.org/bible-study/why-are-catholic-and-protestant-bibles-different/
  1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Song_of_Songs
9. https://bible.usccb.org/bible/songofsongs/8

The Poetry and Praise of Nature

The Poetry and Praise of Nature

Here we are in the middle of Eastertide. One of the things I have always loved about the Easter season is that it seems as though all of nature is celebrating the Resurrection of Christ along with us.  In my part of the world, Central Texas, this is the time for our annual display of wildflowers, a riot of colors that starts with deep blue bluebonnets, paired with light pink evening primroses that eventually fade into red, yellow and brown sunflowers as the weeks progress and the temperature warms up.

I was on a morning walk last week and stopped to take a photo of a patch of wildflowers. I was happy to see that there were others who were also pleased to see the wildflowers. Darting in and out of the blooms were butterflies and bees, and overhead birds were busy building nests while squirrels waved their bushy tails at me, peering from behind branches, daring me to notice them. The scene reminded me of a passage from one of my favorite children’s books, The Alligator and his Uncle Tooth, by Geoffrey Hayes.  This book tells the tale of a small alligator, named Corduroy, who loved to wander through the hills surrounding his home. He especially loved to meander through the pine forest, always “standing strong and silent through every season. When the trees were hung with snow or covered by fog or moved by wind, Corduroy watched them, and it was like seeing poetry.”

Later in the story Corduroy goes to live with his Auntie Hick, who runs a small stationery shop in a village by the seaside. The little alligator is overwhelmed at his first glimpse of the mighty sea.

“The sea roared as it swept onto the beach, sending up showers of salty mist that tingled Corduroy’s nose. He breathed in the ocean smell. How untamed it was! How alive!

“As he sat there watching it, the sea foam rolling on the waves looked like delicate clouds; and the clouds in the sky looked like flower blossoms; and the sky moved like a song. ‘Poetry!’ thought Corduroy.”

Ah, poetry. That literary form with the ability to teach, communicate and elevate through images and a minimum of syllables, to strip away the familiar and help us see it once again with fresh, new eyes. As I stood in the wildflower patch that morning, watching all the pollinators busy at their work, I felt as though I were watching a living embodiment of poetry, just like Corduroy.

Feeling the warm sun, knowing winter was finally slipping away for another year, I felt the promise of Easter joy rising again; the newness, the light, the victory, the hope. I thought “Someone should write something.” Then I thought “I bet someone already has.”

Upon returning home I opened my Bible and went to the Psalms, that book of precious poetry. Sure enough, I found Psalm 8:

O Lord, our Sovereign,

How majestic is your name in all the earth.

You have set your glory above the heavens.

Out of the mouths of babes and infants

You have founded a bulwark because of your foes,

To silence the enemy and the avenger.

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

The moon and the stars that you have established;

What are human beings that you are mindful of them,

Mortals that you care for them?

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,

And crowned them with glory and honor.

You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;

You have put all things under their feet,

All sheep and oxen

And also the beasts of the field,

The birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,

Whatever passes along the paths of the sea.

O Lord, our Sovereign,

How majestic is your name in all the earth!

(NRSV Bible, Psalm 8)

 It is such a tremendous truth that all of nature worships God, just by doing what it was created to do. From the orange winged monarch butterfly to the mighty oak tree to the towering, silent mountains, all of creation offers its praise. May you, too, find yourself amid ample opportunities of living praise – and poetry – this Easter season!

© Copyright 2023 by Sarah Pedrozo

Featured photo Eastertide Wildflower Field © Copyright 2023 by Sarah Pedrozo