We Have A Need For Lent
What do we do or give up for Lent when our country and world are in the middle of the worst financial problems that most of us can remember?
Giving up candy, movies, TV, or sirloin steak just doesn’t seem to fit with the headlines about unemployment, the pictures of sick children who don’t have insurance, or the stories of women who have been made into slaves. In Psalm 50, God speaks: “It is not with your sacrifices that I find fault. . . I will not accept any bulls from your homes, nor a single goat from your folds, for all the forest creatures are mine already . . . . If I am hungry I shall not tell you, since the world and all it holds are mine.”
But we have a need for Lent. It is our time to make a new personal covenant with our God. It’s our spiritual spring cleaning, a healthy thing.
Looking over the possibilities that are built into the Judaeo-Christian tradition, we have what Jesus did when things got rough—and we have Moses and Esther. They went to their God, a God who was not in the whirlwind, not in the earthquake or the fire; but after the fire “a still, small voice,” and God spoke to Elijah (I Kings. 19: 12-14.
The other major insight of our tradition is that our way to our God is in our relationship with one another, especially with those among us who are hurting, who are hungry or wounded. God works and heals through us.
This is a year of pain and need. If we ourselves are not among the walking wounded, we certainly know others who are. Or, if we are so far removed from the scenes of pain that we are not seeing them, then we need to find ways to experience these realities close up.
If decisions about curing the economy are beyond my power—and, to be truthful, they are also beyond my intellectual powers—giving a try to respond to what is within my reach is possible.
My first thought is about compassion for the people who suffer. What can I do to relieve it?
My second one is about my own anger and bitterness. I think anger is appropriate. I don’t understand why anyone can feel free to accumulate millions while others lose jobs and health care and homes. There is little limit to what I would like to say and do to the people with the golden parachutes.
But for Lent to be healthy, healing, and honest, and a return to the Lord my God, it needs to be a freeing from bitterness and self-righteousness. (How do I know that, given a chance, I might not have reached for a bit of that gold? I would like a villa in the Caribbean.) It’s easier to free oneself from bitterness, of course, if I haven’t found myself out in the cold, unable to feed my children, and on the unemployment line.
How do we get on course, nationally and individually? We believe in the Gospel and in the God of justice and of loving mercy. If, in Lent, we are to move toward becoming holy as God is holy, can Lent be a time of struggling toward becoming people who are earnestly working toward justice, and at the same time being people of mercy and compassion—not only toward the needy and hungry, but also toward the people of the golden parachute?
Jeanne Hamilton, O.S.U.
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