"A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring," by Emily Dickinson

A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring
In contrast with the things that sing
Not Birds entirely — but Minds —
Minute Effulgencies and Winds —
When what they sung for is undone
Who cares about a Blue Bird's Tune —
Why, Resurrection had to wait
Till they had moved a Stone —

+ Emily Dickinson

The pangs of sorrow are everywhere these days, from our personal lives and neighborhoods to the news of violence and loss around the world. And for Dickinson, sorrow’s contrast with the springtime birdsong (among other little springtime joys) only makes the pangs sharper, clearer, stronger.

This line of thought opens a new window on the season of Lent. It’s the season of lengthening days (hence the name, “Lent,” from an old word for “lengthen”) and of migrating, musical birds, but it’s also a time for reflecting on the world’s wounds, and how we can play a part in their healing and repair. 40 days of longing for resurrection — and also of recognizing that resurrection isn’t fully here yet. The angels haven’t yet rolled away the stone. The losses are real, and Lent is, in part, a pilgrimage through the ruins, a time to face and feel what has been done, and left undone.

The time for rejoicing will come; that’s the promise of Easter, the promise of the Gospel. But for now, as Holy Week approaches, Dickinson helps us reimagine Lent from a different angle. Perhaps our ancestors created these 40 days not only because spring’s rising new life resonates with resurrection, but also because it contrasts so conspicuously with the pangs of sorrow, and so helps us feel them more honestly and openly. As another New England poet has put it (Mary Oliver, in “Lead”),

I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.