The Japanese Zen Priest, Shohaku Okumura, teaches his pupils simply, "I encourage you to look closely." May we do just that as these Polenov paintings are revealed to us during Lent.
For the Russian soul, the Birch Tree symbolizes all that is beautiful in nature; a poetic symbol of spring — all that is light and pure. But the Birch Tree is lovely in every season — even in the winter, when the bare branches stand against the sky or when an alley of trees, like this one, would fill up with snow.
Russians claim the Birch Tree as their national tree, so much so that they are often surprised when they learn the tree grows in other countries. The ancient slavs believed hugging a Birch Tree would bring good luck — that it was a magical tree capable of bestowing joy and endurance. A devout Russian might even speak of paradise as a little wooden church with birches growing alongside. The oldest Russians will still express gratitude to the Birch Tree for having helped them survive the Second World War, when food was scarce and the tree's sweet juice kept people from starving.
Russian school children still memorize Sergei Yesinin's nostalgic 1913 poem ...
Under my window
Tucked in the snow
White birch retired
Clad in silver glow.
On the fluffy branches
Snowy-trim with silver tinge
Melted around catkins
Forming white fringe.
Like golden fires
Snowflakes blazed
White birch stood still
Asleep or amazed.
Meanwhile, lazily
Strolling around
Down threw more "silver"
On the twigs and ground.
"I encourage you to look closely." These trees in Polenov's painting reach for the sky, and indeed we see tiny patches of blue sky through the dense assembly of the uppermost branches. The ground shadows, the light on the lower tree trunks and path suggest it is early in the day — or late. A summer day in Russia is a long day. But look more closely still — two children, a young boy and a girl, are coming towards us. Maybe they are returning home or are visitors. The open path and our standing at the other end of this alley suggests hospitality.
Hospitality is welcoming the other. Along with gratitude, it is perhaps the greatest indicator of the spiritual life. "Welcome the stranger" is a work of mercy. In Genesis there is the story of Abraham and Sarah offering hospitality to the three visitors. Indeed, Abraham's tent would have been open on all sides, so he could prepare a welcome for those approaching. Hospitality requires sacrifice — the putting aside of time and resources I might have kept aside for myself.
What a high goal — that our family our parish, our Church, our nation, would be known for its hospitality.
