Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. — II Corinthians 5:17
The Romans revered Ianus like no other god and they had gods by the bushel. Even after the Christian Church, Ianus alone remained influential as a symbol. Ianus, known as Janus in the English, was the god of doorways, passages, change, decisions, retrospect wisdom and future action. The first month of the new year is named for him: Ianuarius, or January.
He is a two-faced god, most often carved or painted with one face as that of an old man and the other as younger man: the old man looking back (in time, on success and failure) and the younger looking forward (uncertainty, fortune, opportunity). Sometimes the two faces are identical. But no matter.
Common Roman families used stone door-stops carved as Ianus to remind themselves that each entering is also a leaving. The Romans respected Ianus in all their decisions. As the god of doors and passages, gates were closed in war, open in peace; embers conserved by the elder Ianus’ gaze lit the eyes of the younger Ianus as he stared into a dark or tempestuous future. Without the light of the past, the future is dark indeed.
The Romans especially respected the New Year, Calendae Ianuariae. Winter extended with equal measure behind and ahead. Will there be a gathering on the field of Mars? Pestilence? Civic turmoil? Cupid’s arrow? They believed that the first day of the year must be joyful so that the rest of year would be also. They also spent part of the day working, as laziness was seen as a bad omen. Gossip and petty squabbling was avoided. Ianus received many offerings and promises of good behavior in the coming year. Romans walked past Ianus statues and doorstops with a renewed respect, one that had likely grown stale over the year.
Like the Romans, we also must annually pass by the wise and venerable face of Ianus and show our backs to the younger one. As we do so, for just a tiny moment, we are hidden from them both. They can only hear a “pair of ragged claws scuttling across floors of silent seas.” In that moment, however confident or haughty or humble, we endure a millisecond perdition. Is it then the Enemy, the lord of this world, sweetly perfumes our inhalations, nudging us down a different path? Ianus can not know, for when again he sees us, our back is turned and we are on a path we chose in his blind spot.
But God knows which path we chose.
As your robe brushes past the faces of Ianus, what path will you choose in 2024? What are you leaving? Who do you serve? Quo Vadis?
Interesting perspective.
This makes me want a Ianus in the front door of my home. How many doors are we walking through without using that moment as an opportunity to reflect on the life we have lived and the life we have yet to live? And if we did use it, how much deeper would our love be? Our gratitude?