[Congressional Record Volume 151, Number 33 (Thursday, March 17, 2005)]
[Senate]
[Pages S2968-S2969]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                            LIONS AND LAMBS

  Mr. BYRD. Mr. President, this Sunday is special for two reasons. It 
is the first day of spring and it is also Palm Sunday, the beginning of 
the Christian Holy Week. Both events mark triumphant arrivals, of Jesus 
into Jerusalem, and the start of the season of rebirth, of lengthening 
days, warm earth, and growing things.
  At this time of year, many people quote an adage to the effect that 
``March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.'' An unknown 
poet said it better:

     The March wind roars
     Like a lion in the sky,
     And makes us shiver
     As he passes by.

     When winds are soft,
     And the days are warm and clear,
     Just like a gentle lamb,
     Then spring is here.

  The exact origins of the March saying are not clear. Observers of the 
weather may assert that the saying reflects common springtime weather 
patterns, when shifting pressure gradients create the strong gusty 
winds so closely associated with March. Indeed, March marks the 
beginning of the tornado season in North America. We have certainly 
seen some strong cold winds recently, shaking the few remaining dry 
brown leaves out of the trees and whirling them across lawns and roads. 
Daffodils and crocus have been lured into bloom only to be buried under 
snow or ice. This year, winter is still roaring in March, with howling 
winds, snowstorms, ice, and rain across the nation. The poet Henry Van 
Dyke (1852-1933) once observed that:

       The first day of spring is one thing, and first spring day 
     is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great 
     as a month.

  We can but hope that the gentle lamb-like weather arrives soon.
  Some skywatchers believe the adage has a heavenly source. They point 
out that the constellation Leo, the lion, is rising in the eastern 
horizon at the beginning of March, hence the ``coming in like a lion,'' 
while Aries, the ram, sets on the western horizon at the end of March, 
and so ``departs like a lamb.'' Some Christian observers point out that 
March is typically a Lenten month, in which Jesus, the Lamb of God, is 
sacrificed on the cross, only to return in the future as the Lion of 
Judah to rule over the world of men.
  I do not know which theory is correct, but each is plausible and 
intriguing. They provide food for thought as gardeners rake out flower 
beds and till vegetable plots on the warm, sunny afternoons that crop 
out amid the rain and late snow flurries. They reassure us that, 
whichever is true, the world is behaving normally. If we are only 
patient a little while longer, the March winds will push winter along 
and leave the glorious spring in their wake.
  Age is supposed to bring with it patience, but I find that each year 
I am just as eager for spring to arrive as I was when I was a boy. I 
may be even more eager than I was as a boy, since snowball fights and 
sledding down hills have been replaced with shoveling walks, scraping 
icy windshields, and higher heating bills. I am ready to shed my winter 
coat, ready to feel the sun on my face, ready to see the flowers bloom 
and the grass grow. I am ready to plant a few tomatos. I may not run 
through the fields and woods anymore, but I like to sit outside with my 
wife, Erma, and watch our little dog explore the backyard. I look 
forward to watching my grandchildren hunt for Easter eggs in the soft, 
new grass.
  The vernal equinox marks the first day of spring, the perfect balance 
of light and dark, day and night. On Sunday, for the first time each 
year, day and night are equal. But then the sun triumphs over the dark 
days of winter. Each day through the spring, the period of sunlight 
grows a little longer, like the grass in the yard. Each day, the birds 
start singing a little earlier, and continue their song just a little 
later in the evening.

     For winter's rains and ruins are over,
     And all the season of snows and sins;
     The days dividing lover and lover,
     The light that loses, the night that wins;
     And time remembered is grief forgotten
     And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
     And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the 
           spring begins.

  So wrote the poet Algernon Charles Swinburne--1837-1909--in his 1965 
poem, ``Atalanta in Calydon.'' In March, the daffodils, crocus, and 
forsythia bloom, adding their springtime yellow and Lenten purple to 
winter's faded palette of gray and brown. But look closely, and you can 
see buds swelling into life on twigs and branches. Vibrant reddish buds 
reassure gardeners that the roses came through the winter, and will 
soon grace us with their beauty and sweet fragrance. The glorious 
parade of bloom and blossom will soon begin.
  It seems more than happy coincidence that Easter is a springtime 
event. Like spring itself, the story of Easter is one of rebirth, of 
light triumphing over darkness. Palm Sunday, the arrival of Jesus into 
Jerusalem those many years ago, is shadowed with the knowledge of the 
dark days to come--Jesus' betrayal, capture, and tortured procession 
with the cross on his back and crown of thorns on his brow. But after 
his death comes his resurrection and ascension, his rise from the 
darkness of the tomb to the light of Heaven.

  Each spring, as we relive his great sacrifice for us, we can rejoice 
in his great promise of rebirth, even as we are surrounded by the 
earth's rebirth.
  The celebration of birth and growth persists even in the most 
commercialized aspects of today's Easter celebration. Like the March 
winds adage, the origins of the Easter egg have been lost to time, but 
for untold centuries, eggs have symbolized fertility, resurrection and 
new life. The ancient Greeks, Persians, and Chinese exchanged eggs 
during their spring festivals. Some pagan traditions held that Heaven 
and Earth were formed from two halves of an egg.
  Christian traditions have adapted this ancient symbol to the Easter 
ritual, wedding the ideas of earthly rebirth to spiritual resurrection. 
Once forbidden during Lent in the Middle Ages, eggs reappeared on 
Easter Sunday on the dinner table as well as being given as gifts. In 
Greece, eggs are dyed red to represent the blood of Christ. In Germany 
and Austria, green eggs are exchanged on Maundy, or Holy, Thursday. 
Many cultures have developed elaborate decorations for blown or 
hardboiled eggs, from the graphic Russian `pysanki' eggs to those with 
religious symbols and scenes carefully painted on them.
  Whatever the tradition, Easter eggs remain a springtime delight. The 
fun of making them is overcome only by the fun of hiding them and 
watching small hands tightly clutching decorated baskets loaded with 
their brightly colored bounty. Of course, today's Easter baskets are 
also filled with chocolate eggs, jelly beans, and marshmallow treats--
some 90 million chocolate Easter bunnies, 700 million marshmallow 
Peeps, and 16 billion jellybeans each year, according to some reports. 
Older Easter food traditions, such as the hot cross buns once given to 
the poor by monks, and pretzels, with crossed arms resembling a person 
at prayer, have fallen from favor before this onslaught of sugar.
  As Erma and I watch our children, our children's children, and now, 
our great-grandchildren, continue this happy custom, we are thankful 
once again for these, our blessings. Their new lives, like those of 
children everywhere, are treasured gifts. On this coming Easter, in 
this first week of spring, I know I am not alone in giving thanks.
  I close with a short poem by Louise Seymour Jones, called ``Who Loves 
a Garden.'' In just a few lines, she marries the spheres of heaven and 
earth,

[[Page S2969]]

the greening of the land, the rebirth of the flowers as well as the 
spirit, and work that is a labor of love.

                           Who Loves a Garden

     Who loves a garden
     Finds within his soul
     Life's whole;
     He hears the anthem of the soil
     While ingrates toil;
     And sees beyond his little sphere
     He waving fronds of heaven, clear.
  Mr. President, I have a parliamentary inquiry.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator will state his parliamentary 
inquiry.
  Mr. BYRD. Can the Chair inform the Senate as to how many days 
speeches will be received for printing in the Record before the recess 
formally begins?
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Chair is not in a position at this point 
to share with the Senator what that may be, but it is our hope that it 
will be available soon.
  Mr. BYRD. Very well. I am informed, Mr. President, that the Senate 
will be in this coming Monday for a brief period for acceptance of 
speeches only. Yes. All right. I thank the Chair. That answers my 
question sufficiently.
  Mr. President, I thank all Senators, I thank the staff, and I yield 
the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Pennsylvania.

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