A MESSAGE FROM THE REV. J.C. AUSTIN: OF SOFT LIGHT AND YEAST
Can I see the buds that are swelling 
In the woods on the slopes
On the far side of the valley? I can’t,
Of course, nor can I see
The twinleafs and anemones
That are blooming over there
Bright-scattered above the dead
Leaves. But the swelling buds
And little blossoms make
A new softness in the light
That is visible all the way here.
The trees, the hills that were stark
In the old cold become now
tender, and the light changes.
– Wendell Berry
This is one of my favorite poems, not only in and of itself, but specifically because of what it tells us about how transformative change happens. I quote it often in my preaching and teaching for that reason.
Wendell Berry is renowned as a poet of nature, and this poem is set during the boundary period between winter and spring, which you can see in the contrast between his mention of swelling buds and little blossoms on the one hand, and dead leaves and “the old cold” on the other. What he’s describing specifically is how the transformation of the world, the literal rebirth of nature, is already happening before it can actually be seen by the naked eye.
He knows that the buds of new life are growing across the valley even though he can’t see them, and the only real hint of them is the change in the light on the hills, the “new softness” that he mentions. It is subtle, almost imperceptible, unless you know to look for it and do so intentionally. And yet it is no less powerful for that: soon the transformation that is at work in such subtle ways will soon begin to burst forth everywhere all around them in an unstoppable riot of color and life.
The Biblical version of this poem is in a brief parable about the kingdom of God that Jesus tells in Luke 13:20-21: “…he said, “To what should I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”
The wonderful thing about yeast is that even a tiny bit of it mixed into a huge pile of flour will leaven the entire mixture, transforming it through chemical reactions to make it rise.
That’s what the kingdom of God is like, Jesus says: even a little bit of its presence can change everything. And, perhaps more importantly, that transformation begins to happen similarly to spring in Berry’s poem: it’s already happening before you notice it, and sometimes you won’t even see it for a while unless you’re looking attentively for it.
I think we are all longing for signs of new life around us after not just the winter that has passed, but the last difficult two years of the pandemic and so much more. So my invitation to you, as we conclude the first official week of spring and continue our Lenten journey towards Holy Week, is to look attentively around you and see where you might find “a new softness in the light” from the yeast of God’s kingdom already at work around you.
It might be in the church, or in your family life, in your neighborhood, in your friendships, or in the larger world. But look and see where the Holy Spirit is bringing forth shoots of love, joy, justice, forgiveness, compassion, and peace where you might not have noticed it before. And take a moment to savor that discovery with a photo or a journal reflection or just a moment of silent prayer, and see how in turn that experiences helps lift you!
Grace and Peace,
J.C.