There is an ancient legend,
fair and sweet and old,
Remembered by our grandmothers,
around each Easter time, retold.
The Lenten Lilly is the Daffodil,
Its bright yellow trumpet
and its solar disk shaped face -
Turned as if they sadly bowed,
like the Angels who marveled at the grace,
Of what their infinite Lord allowed.
In the Garden of Gethsemane
This yellow flower that night appeared,
To comfort Jesus, sweating blood and crying many tears.
Knowing what was coming,
at the touch of Judas kiss,
He prayed then to His Father
Facing an abyss.
Not only facing His own tortures,
But for the sinners sake who would perish either side,
One going onto the second death,
The other, through repentance, saved, and alive.
In Heaven then forever,
Or the prideful to lose the bliss -
The Daffodil in other legends,
Foreshadowed also this.
The Greek Name for this flower, Brings us the story of Narcissus, in love with himself,
Whose pride and vanity cost him his beauty and his living breathing, health -
And left only poor Echo as a witness, to the loss of all his wealth…
Self love that leaves no room for God,
Is the daffodil of death,
Self sacrifice that is in bloom with God,
Is the daffodil of breath.
This symbol of life,
Of the journey through days,
This perennial wonder,
Upon which we gaze,
Is filled with the mystery
Of the Lord and His ways.
So when you next see a Lenten Lilly
Ask yourself, quietly, to answer true,
When your final act draws near thee,
Which sinner then are you?
