This painting was first given the title, Winter Landscape. For whatever his reasons, the artist then renamed it Christmas Eve. He seems to have added a very thin halo over Mary's head, just to be sure we know who this is — pregnant, exhausted and alone, leaning against the fence, her feet in snow.
But follow the footprints and Mary's gaze up into the left corner. This is Joseph, who has not abandoned Mary in desolation but gone looking for a place where they can safely spend the night. Has he already been to the building piled with snow at the top of the road? Was he rejected there, or was no one home? And so he has gone off to the next place, trudging through snow, a walking stick in his left hand, a sack over his shoulder. Mary is holding a bundle as well. It is not a romantic scene but one of hardship. I can feel the raw night air and the fear that can come with standing alone outside in darkness.
But what are we doing with a Christmas painting at the start of Lent? I think Fritz von Uhde's picture is one of patience. God is so patient with us. And Jesus was born of Mary and Joseph's patience. We all wish we were more patient. That can be a conscious Lenten effort.
Some weeks ago at Mass we heard St. Paul's Letter to the Corinthians where he wrote simply, "Love is patient." Soon after, a friend sent an email with a pastor's prayerful reflections on those three words. It's worth thinking about these first days of Lent.
You're a patient lover, Lord:
you wait for me, you never give up on me;
you endure my foolishness even when I turn away from you;
you suffer for my sake and freely bear my burdens...
I've done nothing to deserve your patient love:
I waste it, I turn from it,
I deny and reject it,
but even then, patiently,
you wait for my heart to change,
you endure my slow progress,
and you suffer my self-pity
all because your love for me is patient
- and you will not let me go...
And you ask me, Lord, to love my neighbor,
my sister and my brother, the stranger
with the same patience
with which you love me...
Keep me from the quick and hasty judgment, Lord;
let me judge others as I'd have them judge me:
patiently... and with justice and mercy...
Curb my sharp tongue and give me patience in my speech;
let no harsh words fly from my mouth to wound
the innocence of others...
Give me patience in understanding those who are not like me
and help me see in the differences
what, in others, complements and completes me
— and them and all of us together...
Give me the patience I need, Lord, to move among others
with gentleness, reverence and respect,
careful not to step on others' hearts, letting others go before me
tending others' needs before tending to my own...
Give me patience, Lord, with those I live and work with,
the ones I take for granted or ignore
the ones I so often and easily forget
in my rush to get what I want, when I want it...
Give me patience with strangers, Lord,
those I meet in the course of every day:
help me respect and love them, Lord,
as patiently as you love me...
And give me patience with myself, Lord,
when I'm quick to judge, to doubt, abuse and hate myself.
Remind me of the mercy you offer me,
your trust in the person you made me to be,
your gentle touch upon my wounds and pain,
your mercy, in which you never fail to bathe me...
Forgive and heal me, Lord,
when my lack of patience leads to anger and judgment,
harsh words or silence, jealously or self-pity,
when my impatience spirals into doubt and fear,
calm my anxious heart with the patient grace of your heart
and hold me in your mercy
until your patience heals my soul
and cleanses me in peace...
A Concord Pastor Comments 1-30-21
