March is a ridiculous month. I can’t imagine why it was invented or what demented mind came up with the idea. Some say it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, or is it the other way round? In either case it implies a certain intentionality that I believe does not exist. March is the very icon of chaos. It has absolutely no idea where it is going because it doesn’t know where it came from or where it is. March is freedom without purpose and only in the most absent-minded way manages to drunkenly stumble out of winter toward spring without the least intent of doing so. Nevertheless, the bulbs in our garden are starting to send up shoots. Willow trees along the creek are beginning to turn a pale sort of green. Birds no longer flock to our feeder fighting for position in the same aggressive numbers. The day dawns earlier and slides more gently into night at a more reasonable hour. March is the hormonally driven teenager of months and must be endured until it mutates into a saner April. I wonder if October behaves the same way in the southern hemisphere? What does any of this have to do with theology? Could it be that March is also the icon of the spiritual journey most of us are on?