It's not much of a confession to anyone who knows me.
Granted, when I moved to the Boston area late one fall, the novelty of so much winter was pretty mesmerizing. At first. All the play aspects were attractive in those early days. The smell of burning wood and the smoke curling out of chimney-tops, the sight and joyful sounds of neighborhood kids playing broom hockey on our town's frozen pond, the beauty of snow blanketing everything in pristine whiteness.
There was great novelty in walking through the snow to church on a Sunday morning, and living next to the Charles River provided endless fascination as the "little muddy" formed ice shapes along its banks.
Before long, though, the harsher realities overtook the positives. Cars that wouldn't start, constantly falling down on slick surfaces, impassable roads, power outages, being late to everything; never, ever getting warm enough. And, worst of all, at least for me, that overwhelming claustrophobic sensation that it would never end. Because, if you don't live far enough north, you don't know about new snowfall in April, nor that the spring snows fall on top of snow that has been on the ground since January. And you don't realize that the snow may still be on the ground come May.
In George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones novels, the Stark family motto is "Winter is Coming." It conveys a sense of inevitability, the idea that winter cannot be avoided and must be prepared for; something through which each person must pass, something to overcome.
Where is the hope in that?
It was just these winter experiences that made me pause when I came across the passage in the Book of Job where God demands from Job, “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail,” (Job 38:22 NIV, http://bible.com/111/job.38.22.niv). The "storehouses of the snow" really caught my attention. Most scholars read that phrase as meaning a kind of place where God stores snow.
That's not how I read it. I see it as meaning snow is the storehouse. And I think I have a pretty good idea what is stored in the snow: hope.
Summer in New England, and the few weeks that bookend either side of it, is a lovely time. Very Robert Frost. So, when winter does finally end, everyone feels an uplift in spirit; joy fills every heart. A kind of collective amnesia overtakes, clouding the harsher memories of winter. But deep in the winter, people think of the spring to come, of the green grass, flowers, and the planting of gardens. They think of the warm days of summer and the coming, though still far off, harvest.
They have hope.
For they know that every inch of snow piled upon the ground throughout the winter is actually stored water, just waiting for spring to release it. Water that brings life to the land, the plants, the animals, and all of us humans who could not survive without it.
The Romans passage in this week's Lectionary selections talks about a "hope that does not disappoint." Such hope is more than just a wish; it's a confidence that good will come. The passage asserts that by enduring our sufferings, we will gain character, the kind of character that can hope, unreservedly, in the belief that our faith is not misplaced.
It is our storehouse of hope. And it will see us through the winter.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Trinity Sunday (May 22, 2016)
First reading and Psalm
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31
Psalm 8
Second reading
Romans 5:1-5
Gospel
John 16:12-15
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We have a hope that does not disappoint. Join us Friday mornings for Lectionary Breakfast at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant. We meet at 8:00 for an hour that feeds us, both physically and spiritually, and from which we draw hope for the days ahead.
Enjoy the coming week!
Steve
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