An honest, no-frills Lenten voyage:
Burying of the Alleluia.
Dwelling in Scripture in addition to well chosen literature during the season. For the reading is not just reading. It is Jesus.
Illuminating the twelve votive candles for our Friday evening Stations of the Cross devotion.
Living simply. Trying to, anyway.
Then there’s the giving up. Following through on this…. makes me want to, well, give up. Which makes me wonder: Who I am following?
Which, I’d say, is the point.
My family has long term, anticipatory plans on Shrove Tuesday. Don’t we all begin, of course, with The Ash Wednesday Clean Slate?
Now, though? Husband and kids are doing well. They’ll continue to do well. I know they will. Mostly I stray. And mostly, I am proud of the loves of my life who subscribe to the “real-men-do” philosophy: Real men do say the rosary. Real men do depend on scripture and fasting and repentance.
Like entering the desert of our souls. Like walking with Jesus into the dark, unrelenting wilderness for forty days. Like becoming aware of our ragged spirits and begging mercy for the dark night of our souls.
Is Lent about forming and renewing? Or forfeiting? Is one more important than the other? And what does it say about me that I just can’t stick with what I planned to renounce?
Possibly that I need to empty the soul more to know the filling of God? And possibly, that a failing Lent really isn’t — once I come to this realization?
My oldest son offhandedly commented on Ash Wednesday last year, that he s-h-o-u-l-d give up complaining. “But,” he claims, “Giving up sweets is just so much easier, you know?”
Hmmmmm. he already gets that. Forgoing treats is just plain simpler than addressing the struggle with the internal. With ridding one’s self of the difficult day – to – day struggle with the devil. Coming face to ugly face, with sin.
Does the emptying of the soul, the cleansing through the grace of confession, come only when we know how empty we truly are?
Jesus is doing everything. He is the one going to Calvary. And it seems that the least I can do is know the hole of my sin. Because isn’t knowing our sin and receiving absolution of our sin knowing our God more? Doing His work more?
I want that; that’s my goal.
That greatest gift.
Copyright 2014, Christine Capolino