From Spiritual Winter to Living Spring
A Reflection on the Fifth Sunday of Lent
Fifth Sunday of Lent – (Hebrews §321b (9:11-14) / Saint Mark §47 (10:32b-45)).
Beloved in Christ,
There are moments in the liturgical year when the world itself seems to conspire with the Church. That is, nature itself seems to echo the voice of the Church, to mirror her teaching, to reinforce her meaning with a kind of quiet insistence.
The Fifth Sunday of the Great Lent is one of those moments.
For as the Church continues in her season of fasting, restraint, and repentance, the world beyond her walls begins to awaken. The trees, barren these past months, now show the first signs of life. The fields are taking on color once more. The air softens. The daylight lengthens. Creation itself seems to proclaim: spring is coming.
And yet, of course, within the Church, it is still Lent.
This seeming tension is not accidental. In fact, it is deeply instructive. For on this day, the Church places upon our lips and into our ears the ancient Kondak:
Through spiritual winter cometh the renewal of the soul, and all temptations having been endured, the fruits of virtue are brought forth from spiritual enlightenment. Christ the Bridegroom cometh, crowning with the crown of the ascetic; let us rise up, let Him find those who are ready, and let us accept the incorruptible crown.
This treasured hymn does not merely describe the season – both the season of the world and the season of the soul – but it interprets it. It tells us what is truly happening within us, even when we do not feel it, even when we are tempted to doubt it.
The Necessity of Winter
The modern instinct, which we see both in the world and, at times, even among Christians, is to prefer perpetual springtime. We desire warmth without cold, growth without barrenness, fruit without waiting. We seek the visible signs of life while avoiding the hidden conditions that make such life possible.
And so, when Lent feels difficult, when prayer becomes dry, when fasting weighs upon us, when our weaknesses become more apparent rather than less, we are tempted to think that something has gone wrong.
But the Kondak speaks plainly: nothing has gone wrong.
This is the winter.
And winter is not an interruption of life. It is its preparation.
In the natural world, winter is not a season of death but of hidden activity. Beneath the frozen ground, roots deepen. Seeds undergo stratification – the necessary time of cold dormancy – that is required for successful germination and growth. After a thaw, the soil is broken, turned, and made ready. What appears lifeless above is, in truth, undergoing a necessary transformation below.
So too in the soul.
A Deeper Cleansing
The Apostolic Reading appointed for this day (Hebrews 9:11–14) directs our attention to the depth of the work that Christ accomplishes within us. He does not merely cleanse the surface. He does not offer an external or symbolic purification. Rather, He enters into the true sanctuary, offering Himself, that He might “cleanse [our] conscience from dead works to serve the living God.”
This is not a light or superficial cleansing. It is not the removal of outward blemishes. It is the purification of the inner man: the conscience, the heart, the very root of our actions.
Such a work cannot be accomplished without disturbance. It cannot be felt as comfort alone. It requires exposure, honesty, and, at times, a painful clarity.
Thus, Lent can and will often feel less like blossoming and more like uncovering.
We see more clearly what we are. We become less satisfied with ourselves. The illusions that once comforted us begin to fall away.
This, too, is winter. It is a mercy!
The Temptation to Skip Ahead
The Gospel (Saint Mark 10:32–45) provides a striking contrast.
As our Lord speaks of His coming Passion – of betrayal, suffering, and death – Saints James and John approach Him with a request for glory. They desire to sit at His right hand and at His left in His kingdom.
They see the crown. They do not see the Cross.
And so the Lord answers them with a question that cuts to the heart of the matter: “Can you drink of the chalice that I drink of?”
In words applicable to us today, He says the same: Can you endure the spiritual winter that makes spring possible?
For the temptation that drew the sons of Zebedee confronts us as well. We desire the fruits of the spiritual life: peace, joy, holiness… yet we hesitate before the means by which those fruits are brought forth. We seek transformation without endurance. We seek renewal without struggle, resurrection without crucifixion.
But the order cannot be reversed. We must – if we are to follow Christ – daily pick up our crosses and follow Him.
Endurance and Fruit
The Kondak is precise in its language:
“…all temptations having been endured…”
Not avoided. Not minimized. Not replaced with something more palatable.
Endured.
It is through endurance, and not mere intention, that the fruits of virtue are brought forth. It is through perseverance in the midst of difficulty that the soul is illumined and renewed.
This is why the Church, even as the world begins to bloom, does not hasten to celebration. Even as secular society may already be entering into a nebulous celebration of spring, the Church bids us remain a little longer in the discipline of Lent.
And it is not out of severity that the Church does so, but out of wisdom. For a premature spring is no spring at all. It is a fleeting illusion, without root or permanence, and will often serve only to damage or destroy the progress which has hitherto been made. Just as the blossoms of a too-early spring can be killed by a late frost, so also the fruits of repentance can be wiped out by rushing too quickly towards an imagined perfection.
The Coming of the Bridegroom
The Kondak concludes with a note of urgency and hope:
Christ the Bridegroom cometh…
He does not come at the beginning of the work, but at its fulfillment. He comes not to initiate the struggle, but to crown it.
And this crown is not given for appearances, nor for outward show, nor for intentions alone. It is given for what has truly taken root within the soul, for what has been formed through patience, through repentance, and through endurance.
The question, then, that we must ask ourselves today is not whether we have felt successful in our Lenten efforts. It is not whether we have perceived visible growth. The question is whether we have remained. Whether we have continued, however imperfectly, to pray, to fast, to struggle, and to turn again to God.
Standing at the Threshold
So, in sum, dearly beloved, we stand now at the threshold.
The signs of spring are visible all around us. The nearness of the liturgical remembrance of the Passion – and beyond it, the Resurrection – is unmistakable, even palpable.
But the Church, in her wisdom, holds us here just a little longer. This is not to delay our joy, but to deepen it. It is not to deny the coming spring, but to ensure that when it comes, that it is real.
And so we are called – as always – not to impatience, but to perseverance. Not to discouragement, but to confidence.
For if to this point our Lent has felt like winter, then, in truth, we are nearer to spring than we may realize.
“Christ the Bridegroom cometh… let Him find those who are ready.”
29 March 2026