Bright Sadness
The Resurrection Path
By Carson Daniel
Fr. Alexander Schmemann, in his work Great Lent, consistently draws attention back to the reality of “Bright Sadness” that permeates the Lenten season. The Lenten season is a pilgrimage of joy and grief, fasting and prayer, and turning ever more deeply to the risen Lord Jesus for healing. Lent is neither a season of “disfiguring of faces” to draw attention to ourselves, nor is it a season we skip all the way to the Pascha/Easter feast (Matthew 6:16). Lent, as in all of life, is a calling to live into the “Bright Sadness” of our broken world and also a reminder that the risen Lord Jesus calls us out of the tombs.
Recently, I have become more acquainted with grief, and at times this grief has led me to the point of despair. Broken dreams, broken relationships, betrayal, and death put my soul in a vulnerable and heartbroken place. I had the opportunity to take a silent retreat to the Abbey of Gethsemani a few weeks ago. Since it was shortly after the world premiere of the Creo Arts film Quest for Beauty, I found myself in the imagination of William Schickel and Thomas Merton, two towering figures in the film. I arrived on the monastery grounds with a heavy heart and a longing for rest.
I checked in at the retreat house desk with Br. Gerlac, and he kindly directed me to my room. The simplicity and familiarity of Gethsemani was a welcome site to a weary soul in need of rest. I rode the elevator up to the third floor and found my room— a modest space with a desk, two lamps, bed, closet, Crucifix, an icon of the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple, an Icon of the Virgin Mary (The Theotokos), and a large window overlooking the retreat house courtyard. Upon entering I was able to set down the burdens I had been carrying.
I looked up in the silence to the top of the window and saw ladybugs bathing in the warmth of the sun, buzzing lightly every minute or so. In my personal grief, the Lord met me with brightness and beauty. Watching those ladybugs in the simplicity of my monastic ‘cell’ called out to places in my heart I had forgotten. Even Solomon in all his splendor was not adorned like one of these.
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Concepts create idols; only wonder comprehends anything. People kill one another over idols. Wonder makes us fall to our knees.
- St. Gregory of Nyssa
People say that beauty does not draw attention to itself or ask for our praise. I would agree. That which is most beautiful, most full of wonder, is often quite subtle. The same could be said of the narrow road Christians are invited to take via the “Resurrection Path.” Understanding the life and Lenten reality of “Bright Sadness” is incredibly subtle.
We are often tempted to embrace a blind naivety in our lives, which leads to a kind of blissful brightness. Mix in a pinch of American positivity, and presto, we have a person waiting to get body slammed by the brokenness of life. We also might be tempted to fall into despair (like me) and mope around looking for the next worst thing to happen. The postmodern soup we live in will welcome you with open arms to its cynical club. Neither of these postures, however, can actually position us to see the beauty of God revealed in life’s profound sadness through the subtle and illuminating light of Jesus Christ.
Good art makes a way for beauty, but it does not push it into our faces or demand our attention. Like the ladybugs in my Gethsemani room, I could have easily missed the gentle way they proclaimed the gospel simply because they were being ladybugs. In the midst of my heartache, God had stilled the orchestra, framed the piece, and let the light of the Holy Spirit fill the moment. I like to imagine God is always preparing the most profound works of art just to communicate his love to us. These are subtle works of art which hang in the narrow resurrection path and ever so quietly whisper, “Peace be with you.”
I am no expert in walking the way of “Bright Sadness,” but as I journey through the rest of this Holy Week I am seeking to remember the ways the Lord Jesus understands. He knows how we veer off the trail from time to time, but in that place he invites us into his life, death, and resurrection so we may see his beauty again… and live.
Carson Daniel is the Director of Operations at Creo Arts, a native Kentuckian and follower of Jesus. He earned a B.A. in History from Asbury University and is pursuing an M.A. in Intercultural Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary (Spring 2025). He loves doing life joyfully with his beautiful wife, Dora, and their three wonderful children, reading spiritual classics, and enjoying prayer walks in the beauty of God’s world.
Photo by Torsten van Dashorst, courtesy of Unsplash.
