I found this picture the other day. It is by a German artist
called Carl Spitzweg (February 5, 1808 – September 23, 1885) who was a German
romanticist painter and poet. He called this picture “Ash Wednesday” “The end
of Carnival” – there is a clown in a cell sitting in solitude.
What do you see as you look at the clown here? Yesterday, the
clown was at a great big party. Remember in history and indeed in some parts of
the world today, Shrove Tuesday was a day to party and eat to excess. Traditionally, the Church encouraged people
give up meat and fish, fats, eggs and cheese. Also at one point marriage
ceremonies and sexual intercourse. Lent was to be a solemn time in church.
Because of the ban on certain types of food, it became customary for people to
use up their fats and eggs before Lent started by making pancakes. The famous
Mardi Gras festivals of Rio de Janeiro and New Orleans thus stem from the same
preparation for Lent, and getting rid of the forbidden foods. Pancake Tuesday
is known as Carnivale in Italy which comes from the Latin for ‘goodbye to the
flesh’. So is the clown sad that all of that is over for him?
Some people see Lent as a miserable time to refrain from
doing things. Many people with no faith whatsoever will give things up in these
weeks, alcohol, cigarettes, chocolate, things they enjoy but they know are bad
for them, only to take them up again on Easter Sunday.
I wonder if the clown is thinking hard about life sitting in
isolation in his cell here. What happened the night before? Perhaps he has made
some mistakes, has some regrets, needs some time out to recover. I think we
need those times in life when if everything seems overwhelming, we simply take
time out on our own, in silence, to refocus and regain strength. I am trying to
have a half hour walk every day as it is incredibly busy at the moment for me but when it is very hectic, simply taking
time away from the busyness gives you space to breathe, to think, to consider
your response, to offer the worries and demands to God. Perhaps we need some
spiritual space right now before we rush on and make any more
decisions. Don’t we need to wait on God and think on him a bit more? A good
start to Lent would be a commitment to do that.
Perhaps the clown is praying quietly before God – I note his
arms are crossed and his head is bowed. Perhaps he is a faithful servant of
God, trying to respond to God the best he can. The lectionary passage for Ash
Wednesday is all about quiet response and devotion. “Whenever you pray, go into your room and
shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who
sees in secret will reward you”, says Jesus. I know people who like to tell me
how wonderful they are as Christians, how their church would fall down without
them. One of the biggest scraps I’ve had in ministry was an argument over who
should sit on the top table at a harvest supper. They didn’t like it that I
refused to sit on it and then I abolished it. Some of us like to be noticed and
we like others to know our importance and our piety and our busy diary and we
like to be noticed. I’ve been to some quite scary prayer meetings outside my
comfort zone, lots of shouting by the prayer warrior at the front, intercessory
prayers shared in prayer meetings where people try to pray better and longer
than the last person who prayed. Jesus is not into any of that show. Go into
your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret.” I hope
you have a room where you do that, a special space, a space apart in your
house, or somewhere special you go, so it is just you and your God.
Jesus doesn't say 'don't fast,' 'don't pray,' 'don't give
alms.' No, he says, 'when you ..., when you give alms, when you pray, when you
fast.' Do these things and more, but don't do them ostentatiously. Be quiet
about them and you'll find that some of the quiet of God will rub off on you!
Do something. There's wisdom in taking something on in Lent; in giving
something up in Lent; and in giving more away in Lent, but that wisdom isn't
found in show and flamboyance. It's found in a quite blessedness - 'and your
Father who sees in secret will reward you.'
The most powerful bit of the picture for me is the light. The
clown is basked in light. God’s light is upon him. Perhaps he has made some
mistakes, perhaps he is quietly looking for a new beginning, perhaps he is
tired from partying or from life, perhaps he needs the isolation, perhaps the
darkness of the world is too much and he needs to be reminded of the presence
of God right there. When we close to God in our devotional life, quietly, we
are told he will reward us. We are special in his sight.
I went to the cinema on my day off on Monday. I was in the
queue heading for Shaun the Sheep but for some reason when I got to the girl
with the tickets I asked for one for Selma, the story of Martin Luther King
leading a peaceful protest march in rural Alabama about equal voting rights for
black and white people. There was a march in Selma in 1965 where black people
were brutally attacked for daring to protest. Later hundreds of white people
joined another march, some of them were attacked for being there too.
Eventually, the protest movement convinced President Johnson to change the law.
The film is very powerful, its message is deeply spiritual, that God loves
everyone, and God calls us to make a difference where things are not aligned
with his Kingdom. Throughout the film is a confidence in God, who will have the
last word because we matter to him.
It is only by basking in the light that we store up courage
to face the darkness. That’s where this clown is. Basking in the light. We need
a good dollop of light to shine to go back into the world and live. We need a
good dollop of light in order to be renewed. We need a good dollop of light to
remind ourselves that God will reward us. Lent I think reminds us that in the
end it is not about us, or anything we have done, it is about what God has done
for us. We need to be reminded of that. We are special people, we are people special
to God, we are people special enough for God’s son Jesus to die for us.
This year on Ash Wednesday at our Circuit Service, we did not do the ashing, we
instead sat in silence together in our inner room to consider our lives,
our response, our devotion, and God’s amazing love for us. I asked the 15 people present these questions:
We might have some
hard times ahead. What happens to this clown in the end, do you think? Is he
renewed to carry on having had a period of reflection? Art can be interpreted
in many ways. What do you need God to say to you today, and be reminded of today?
What are you needing space away from? Can you get rid of your problem or move
away from it, or respond to it after some space? What light is shining in your
cell right now? How will the Lenten journey be for you?
I am glad I found this picture. I think I am reminded at the
end of these reflections on it of the poem by R S Thomas:
Moments of great calm,
Kneeling before an altar
Of wood in a stone church In summer, waiting for the God
To speak; the air a staircase
For silence; the sun’s light
Ringing me, as though I acted
A great rôle. And the audiences
Still; all that close throng
Of spirits waiting, as I,
For the message.
Prompt me, God;
But not yet. When I speak,
Though it be you who speak
Through me, something is lost.
The meaning is in the waiting.
Exhausted, guilty, exasperated, in the dark, needing space,
where are you in this picture?
I pray for a Lent of quiet understanding where we all
rediscover we matter and that God never lets us go, no matter what.
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