Lent presents us with an opportunity to undertake a journey of discovery and renewal. Below is my latest column from Global Sisters Report exploring the invitation of the season and all it has to offer us. Blessings on these Lenten days!
February snow has not kept the signs of spring from coming.
The daffodils are slowly pushing up through the hard ground outside my windows,
glimmers of green despite cold winds and streaks of snow. It's hard to believe
it's time for flowers, Ash Wednesday is around the corner and the dreariness of
winter still seems to be holding court. This year, Lent is late — a conundrum
of the calendar, perfectly suited to the times we're living in.
Seeming streams of scandal both in the church and the world
desensitize our spirits. Like a long winter, days like these create grounds for
despair and fodder for desolation. It would seem that the deep purple tones of
the Lenten season, with its themes of repentance, abstinence and humility,
would be the last thing we need right now. It would be easier to skim the
surface or avoid it all together. So, why go deeper?
We go deeper because we must. This season is as much about
repentance as it is about renewal. In fact, maybe Lent is more about light than
darkness, about lightening our load and reprioritizing our lives. Lent is about
being real. And perhaps, that is exactly where we need to be.
The seasons are changing; the days are getting longer. Light
is returning. And in the midst of painful revelations in the church and ongoing
scandal in the world, Lent invites us into a time of discovery and recovery.
This is a time for renewal of faith.
These forty days of wandering, of being proved, of finding
strength, and of bolstering faith are exactly what we need right now. From
ashes and fasting to almsgiving and prayer, the spiritual deepening and
awareness offered by the Lenten season invite us to a place of renewal, a place
that, if we are honest, it wouldn't hurt to spend some time in, individually
and collectively these days.
You are Dust.
The words we hear as we begin the season of Lent might
easily be taken as a signal of the bleak landscape that awaits us:
"Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."
We are dust. We were born and we will die. The life we live
in between these two moments is God's gift to us. Recognizing our humble
beginnings and our mortality is part of embracing the Lenten call to renewal.
When we remember that we are beloved creations of God, we
can embrace ourselves, others and all of creation with the wonder that befits
such divine design. The same dust we are made of makes up the ones we look down
upon, those we judge, and those who frustrate us, as well as those who bring us
joy. We are united in our creation. Seeing the world this way, how could we
ever tolerate or turn a blind eye to injustice? You are dust and I am dust and
we are dust together.
From such dust comes new life. Like fields that lie fallow,
the dust of our being is never wasted. The seeds of faith are planted in the
dust of our humanity. Lent invites us to acknowledge our humanity, where we've
fallen short and how reliant we are on God. When we can do this, faith has
space to grow and blossom. By honestly embracing our humanity and using the
days of Lent to recommit to following Christ, we are renewed, becoming ever
more mindful of how God is working in our lives and calling us to repent and
live lives that reflect a belief in the Good News.
Full engagement in the renewal Lent calls forth is about
examining and recommitting to the practices that ground our faith and remind us
who we are and who we're called to be. Traditionally, this has led people to
focus on prayer, fasting and almsgiving in an intentional way during Lent. Most
often this entails giving something up or taking on a practice in each realm.
This year, though, I wonder if we might not be better served by considering how
these practices can not only focus us but can transform us if we lean into the
truth that underpins our practice.
Our prayer, for instance, is an opportunity to grow closer
to God; we might choose to prayerfully consider our shortcomings, to look at
our role in racial inequality, or to share with God the wounds of our hearts.
Wherever our prayer leads us and whatever we reflect on, we must remember the
essential aim of our prayer: our relationship with God incarnate in Jesus
Christ.
This is the God we journey with this season, the one who
suffers with us, and ultimately, the one who we long to know (and who longs to
know us) more deeply as we travel the way towards the cross.
In the words of St. Joseph Sr. Elizabeth Johnson in Creation
and the Cross:
"To those who believe, the call from the depths of
their relationship with God is to bend every effort to stand with God in
solidarity with those who suffer; to right wrongs, counter injustice, relieve
the pain, and create situations where life can flourish."
Indeed, it is our practice and our deepening relationship
with God, especially during Lent, that directs us to such renewal in our lives
and for the life of the world.
Bending our every effort, through practices such as fasting,
we recognize our dependence on God. By going without, we discover the truth of
where/who our strength comes from. We also come to stand in solidarity with our
brothers and sisters who have no choice but to live simply. Our fasting is
voluntary, theirs is not. By recognizing that, we are renewed in our sense of
mission to be one with all people and to work so all are provided for.
This renewed sense of unity and call to action is reflected
in the giving called forth in us during Lent. We give freely and fully,
modeling our sharing and sacrifice on Jesus' own. Doing this intentionally
during Lent bolsters our relationship with God and neighbor far beyond this one
season.
In giving with intention, we renew and revitalize our call
to compassion. Our giving may include material goods, but to deepen our sense
of renewal this season it might serve us well to give of time and presence — to
hear someone else's hurt, to relate deeply with another's confusion, or to
provide loving presence that moves our giving beyond charity to true relationship.
When we're able to do this, Johnson points out, "Then a
resurrecting word can gain a foothold in this fractured world."
The active choice to seek renewal in Lent is a choice to
embrace the Good News of Christ and all that comes with it. As theologian David
Tracy writes, "Cross and resurrection live together or not at all."
The connection between these two is part of our journey to renewal in Lent. We
know that the Lenten journey will lead us to the cross, and we are so compelled
by the God who calls us to stand for the Good News that we can't avoid it. But
the journey doesn't end at the cross. We must never forget that the cross is
inextricably linked with the resurrection. This is the promise of faith, the
promise of new life in and with God. On dark days, this is a good reminder.
The work of renewal is deeply personal and profoundly
prophetic. New life is brimming but we must create conditions for it to spring
forth. That process looks a lot like dying — to self, to shortcomings, to
misguided intentions and to sinful institutional action.
By renewing our commitment to Christ this Lenten season, we offer ourselves to the mercy of the journey. By refining our actions and active love, we can be transformed. This is a season of renewal. We must trust God and be engaged. These next forty days offer us a beginning to that process. May we take advantage of this time and know that, sure as the flowers will bloom, God will work with us and through us to bring forth renewed life.
