Bright Sadness: Reflections During Lent

Bright Sadness: Reflections During Lent


We were childhood friends, inseperable in the adventures that moved us from being little girls into grown women. She was beautiful, adored by all, and I was the awkward one; and, together, we pushed and challenged, laughed and charmed our way through all that the world had to offer us.

In 1997, at just 38 years old, she was diagnosed with breast cancer; and she died on April 9, 2001, at 3 a.m. It was Tuesday of Holy Week, and I remember in that early morning darkness feeling deep agony, and overwhelming grace, all at the same time. She had been sick for so long. She had known horrible pain. She had also fought like a champion, and had lived each moment with intense passion, and unselfish love.

Eastern Orthodox Christians have long referred to Lent as a season of "bright sadness." In a book called Season of Mercy, Catherine Doherty says this notion of "bright sadness" holds such rich imagery, "for Christ is etched on the cross against a fantastic light, an explosion, a transfiguration: the resurrection." (to read an excerpt, go to http://www.madonnahouse.org/restoration/2005/02/the_bright_sadness.html)

As Easter approaches, the weight of death is lifted somewhat, and the shadows of grief and fear are slowly replaced by the emerging new dawn. The sadness is real, and the pain of loss, and injustice, cannot be denied or swept aside. And yet, even in the midst of this, there is a piercing stream of bright light, and hope.

Lent has taken on such new meaning for me these past 9 years since Andrea's passing. Especially during Holy Week, I live in the bright sadness of both death, and resurrection, and I wait, fearful and joyful, for the rebirth of new life.

Nancy Christensen