3 Unexpected Things You Need to Know this Lent
In the mid ‘80s, I had a paper route. At 14, I woke up at the crack of dawn to sort, fold, pack and deliver papers on a bike, even when it rained and even if I was sick. At 5’1” I could barely get onto the bike seat with a double pouch full of newspapers. Mondays and Tuesdays were the best days. Papers were thin and light and easy to roll. Sundays, though, were another story. Full of ads and extra sections, Sunday papers required two or three trips from the house. Sundays were the worst!
On one particular Sunday, I was determined to make it in two trips. I stuffed the front and back pouch full, barely able to pull out the papers. The weight of it balanced on both shoulders but getting the bag over the head was always tricky. I had to set it up on the kitchen table, then position my head through the hole in the middle. Then, slowly shimmy my way off the table until the weight of the bag caused me to stagger toward the door. On this Sunday, I willfully and carefully plodded toward my bike in the driveway and somehow got on. My hands precariously gripped the handlebars and my toes barely touched the ground. The trick was to coast down the driveway toward the street and make a somewhat graceful right turn onto the road.
At the end of the road, the first house on my route came into view and, as I reached to pull out a paper, I lost my balance. My handlebars suddenly jerked to a 45-degree angle and I completely lost control of my bike and papers. Down I went. As if in slow motion, I fell to the ground. I couldn’t stop myself and I waited for the thud as I landed, saved by the overstuffed bag of newspapers. There I was, lying on my side, my bike still between my legs and I couldn’t get up. I was literally stuck under the weight of the newspapers in the middle of the street. Mr. Miller came running out of his house to find this high school freshman, helpless and humiliated on the road. He helped me up, gathered the papers that had fallen out of the bag, made sure I was okay, grabbed his own paper and went back inside. What a sight I must have been! I somehow managed to get back on the bike and gradually made my way down the road again.
I sometimes feel that weight on my shoulders, the burdens of life, except there is no bag of papers. The weight might include unpaid bills, looming deadlines at work or school, a sick child, the feeling of not belonging, a parent showing signs of age, a general feeling of powerlessness, or fear of being alone. Lent seems to be an ideal time to lay down one’s load, to get out from under the pressures of life. Just when I feel as if I’m going to teeter over onto the road, I am reminded that I’m not meant to walk alone, to carry this burden alone, to figure it all out alone. And I’m reminded that I’m not even meant to figure it all out in the first place.
I am beyond excited to present my first blog post. And I am thankful that we are beginning to walk together at the start of Lent. How timely for us to explore how participating in the season of Lent can pull us up off the ground, back to our true selves and back to God.
Lent
The Season of Lent, which starts on Ash Wednesday and ends 40 days later at sundown on Holy Thursday, is observed as a time to return to God, return to what gives meaning to our most cherished relationships. It is a time for conversion if we are open and desire it; a time to turn toward God in prayer (encounter), fasting (what I am turning away from) and almsgiving (what I am willing to give as a sacrifice for the good of others).
You may be familiar with all the Catholic things about Lent: the ashes on the forehead on Ash Wednesday, no more proclaiming “alleluia!” in church, abstaining from meat on particular days, fasting for those aged 18-59 on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, the giving up of things we enjoy. We collected coins for the Rice Bowl collection and tried to be more helpful around the house. As we grew older, we tried to gossip less, work harder in school, be more patient or kind. Today, the world of social media opens all kinds of doors to what we can give up, even as adults. Basically, we tried to decrease our vices and increase our good works.
Have you ever wondered, what does it all mean?! How does this help me to grow closer to God? I normally lose my discipline with the chocolate about two weeks in, so what’s the point?
I will say that none of this matters unless we know three crucial things, or what I like to call unexpected truths.
I’m not saying that all the concrete actions we do during Lent should be thrown out. In fact, it can be through those concrete actions and by keeping in mind these three fundamental truths that we can walk together toward a more meaningful and engaged life of faith.
#1 We are Not God.
Ashes remind us that we are not God. We might hear, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return” as ashes are traced on our foreheads in the shape of a cross. Ashes pull us back to our true selves.
Like magnetic grace*, when we are drawn toward something spiritual that is beyond our explanation, ashes on our foreheads pull us toward what is most real and most important. Made from the previous year’s dried palms (Palm Sunday), ashes are a visual sign of our human-ness.
When I was in public grade school, my mother pulled us out of school on Ash Wednesday for Mass. We would inevitably return to school, a cross of ashes on our foreheads for the world to see. “What’s that on your forehead?” “You have dirt, you know, right there.” I think I have blocked from memory how exactly I handled this in junior high and high school. I probably did a little hiding behind the bangs so people would not see it. I once worked with a priest who enjoyed smudging a generous amount of ash on the foreheads of children and adults just to make a point while the ash cascaded down our faces. He did it in good humor but really wanted to get the message across that this was no ordinary day. And every year, throughout the day, I would inevitably touch or scratch my forehead because it itched, only to discover a smudged mess on my forehead and hands.
We were created from the ashes and our physical bodies will someday return to ash. We are mortal and human which means that someday we will die. There is comfort, at some level, in remembering that we are human after all. Yet, with hope, we believe that it is out of the ashes that we will someday rise! Easter joy awaits us.
Ashes remind us that we don’t have it all figured out because we are not God; that we don’t have all the answers, that we barely know what lies before us, nor do we completely understand our pasts. St. Paul used the imagery of a first century mirror, made of a highly polished metal such as bronze. It gave an imperfect, dulled reflection of a person’s face. He wrote, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor 13:12). Through the symbol of the mirror, St. Paul is emphasizing that we do not have it all figured out. Now we “know only in part.” There is so much yet to learn!
A Beginner’s Mind
A beginner’s mind refers to an attitude of openness, eagerness and lack of preconceptions toward learning, including advanced learning. This concept is attributed to the Buddhist tradition. For example, a beginner’s mind reminds me to take care that I don’t assume I know more than an expert in any field, even if I think I know all the answers. This type of mindset also prevents me from assuming that I understand someone’s suffering more than the person who is actually suffering. Therefore, I need to listen deeply to their stories. A beginner’s mind keeps me from making assumptions that only reinforce the views I had in the first place.
In addition, a beginner’s mind encourages me to be open to new insight, inspiration and wisdom. This can come from anyone, anywhere, at any time. Remarkably, this would often come from my 7th-12th grade students when I was a teacher. Even more, it comes from my own children. One New Year’s Eve, not too long ago, we filled out questionnaires for fun. One of the questions asked what advice you would give your parents if you could tell them anything. Both of my 17-year-old children wrote down some variation of “Chill.” We laughed for a while at that because we realized the wisdom in their response. We needed a reminder to relax a little and live in the moment.
Avoiding Rigid Beliefs
Finally, I can recall that I am not God by avoiding rigidity in my beliefs. Pope Francis, in his address to the crowd on St. Peter’s Square in Rome on February 13, 2022 said, “Do I – each one of us – have the disciples’ readiness? Or do I behave with the rigidity of one who believes him- or herself to be right, . . . who feels they have already arrived? Do I allow myself to be ‘inwardly unhinged’ by the paradox of the Beatitudes [for example], or do I stay within the confines of my own ideas?”
“Inwardly unhinged” leaves a lot of food for thought. God is, after all, a God of surprises. There is a lot of unhinging to be done in me, even now, as I attempt to grow and become the person God created me to be. It is not conversion according to Jane, after all, but rather conversion according to God.
#2 We are Beloved Daughters and Sons of God.
In my studies, I have come to understand that when we talk about the human person as created in the image and likeness of God, we are talking about a person’s belovedness. We hear “image of God” so frequently that we forget its deep and extraordinary meaning. The late spiritual teacher, Fr. Henri Nouwen (d. 1996), taught that when God called Jesus “beloved” at his baptism in the Jordan River, God was in fact calling each of us beloved as well. We share in that same belovedness because we were created by God! We struggle with that because we can’t possibly be beloved when there is so much about us that is unlovable! Yet, maybe we can joyfully proclaim it if and when we can allow ourselves to courageously believe it. And in order to believe it, it helps if others can show us.
I have nine siblings, including four sisters. I am the ninth child of ten and the youngest daughter. During my first eighteen years of life, it felt like I had five mothers, and each one of them showed me that I was God’s beloved in a unique way. Here are particular moments of grace they shared with me.
Maureen, my oldest sister, tenderly cared for me. Comforting and gentle, she would give me the biggest bear hugs. She always had time for me.
Vicki was my defender and friend. She not only stood up for me when girls bullied me over the phone in grade school but she woke up with me in the middle of the night when I was sick and compassionately rubbed my back.
Laura noticed when I was upset and alone. She once made me cinnamon toast when I was crying in my room sometime in grade school, trying to finish a history report that was due the next day. She sat with me and helped me finish. She also would take me on drives to get out of the house, spending one-on-one time with me.
I shared a room with Mary for much of my childhood. She comforted me when I awoke once crying from a horrible nightmare. She believed that I could go to Notre Dame for college and encouraged me all along the way.
By their tenderness and love, my sisters taught me about my belovedness. I owe them my gratitude. Because of them, I was seen, heard and known.
Belovedness and Our Share in God’s Divinity
I’m going to go a step further here. Stay with me as I share an unexpected truth about every person. And I share it because it’s so important that we hear it. As Fr. Adrian Burke, OSB, professor and retreat presenter at St. Meinrad Archabbey in Indiana always says, that in the spirit of St. Paul, “we need to wake up to who we really are as God intended us to be.” God doesn’t just intend for us to breathe, to be successful and comfortable in this life. Because of our very nature, as beloved daughters and sons of God, God intends so much more. Let me explain.
Now, I’m referring to a document that may not hold credibility with some of you, but I believe it applies here because of its scriptural integrity and as accepted teaching in the Catholic Church. Dei Verbum**, a Latin title that means “Word of God,” is an important document from the Second Vatican Council. It states, in its first chapter, “It pleased God, in his goodness and wisdom, to reveal himself and to make known the mystery of his will (see Eph 1:9), which was that people can draw near to the Father, through Christ, the Word made flesh, in the Holy Spirit, and thus become sharers in the divine nature (see Eph 2:18; 2 Pet 1:4).”
Wow! We share in God’s divine nature. This is what Saint John Paul II, Bishop of Rome from1978 to 2005, referred to as capax Dei***, a Latin phrase describing our “capacity” for God, both in terms of our “ability to contain” and our “understanding.” God communicates himself in you and me. Each one of us was created with space for God! We are beloved, not by what we do or earn or achieve, but because of who we are and simply because we exist. This doesn’t mean we are perfect or flawless, but that we are holy. We need to learn to be who we are. At an early age, my sisters showed me the meaning of belovedness. By their love, I first awakened to God’s great love for me.
Who, in your life, has helped you to know your own belovedness? Allow those memories to open the door for you to explore your own capacity to know and experience God.
#3 We Can Encounter God From Exactly Where We Are.
We are not perfect, but we are beloved. We are not God, but we share in God’s divinity. We are completely human and someday, at the end of time, we will be completely whole. In the meantime, this Lent, where do we find ourselves?
In the spring of my first year of high school, my brother, Tom, ran for Senior Class President. Tom didn’t win the election. I wanted to cheer him up! So, I bought him a bunch of helium balloons, certain he would smile and know he was loved. I remember the mylar balloon, with a ridiculous picture of a turkey on it, read, “Don’t let the turkeys get you down!” To my dismay and his embarrassment, Tom refused to accept the balloons, walking in the opposite direction whenever I came down the hall to give them to him. I couldn’t understand why my 17-year-old brother didn’t want to walk around with balloons all day. I couldn’t fathom his avoidance of me. So, I literally chased him down the hall, thinking for sure he’d take them. No such luck. He and his buddies ran from me and hid. So I took them home and put them in his room and closed the door. I tried so hard. (I still laugh at this memory as I realize my presumption and naivete.)
While God may or may not chase after us, balloons in hand, prompting us to receive his love, mercy or healing, God is, nevertheless, always present to each of us. As imperfect as we are, as selfish and ego-driven, fear-driven and greedy, tunnel-visioned and controlling, addicted and mean-spirited, we can turn away from these offenses and toward a God who is always present and ready to receive us. God earnestly desires us to return, even now, this year, this moment, this Lent. God will not force us to accept all that is present within us, including a share in God’s own divinity, but God has put the balloons in our inner room, so to speak, waiting for us to delight in God’s love and mercy. Thich Nhat Hanh (1936-2022), Buddhist monk, peace activist, poet, Zen mindfulness teacher and author said, “What you are looking for is already in you. . . . You already are everything you are seeking.”
God is present, always within us, even if we doubt, even if we haven’t been to church, even if we don’t feel worthy or can’t make sense of the teachings of the Church, even if we disagree with how slowly and awkwardly the Church attempts to rectify the sexual abuse crisis, even if we spurn the unwelcome and mistreatment of our brothers and sisters who live alternate lifestyles, who come from different cultures or who have differing political ideologies. God is present in all, through all, and with all.
We can encounter God in a myriad of ways, including through our relationships, through the concrete actions of prayer, fasting and almsgiving during Lent, through the many ways we see and hear God in our daily lives.
Going Forward
Allow these three unexpected truths outlined above to serve as a foundation for an active and engaged life of faith. Let’s carry this mindset forward.
This Lent and beyond, let us seek help to get out from under the weight of our transgressions as we lay in the road unable to move. Let us open our hearts, turn back to God and welcome the divine Spirit within us. If we desire it and ask for it, let us wait for it with hope.
Always remember:
We are not God.
We are beloved daughters and sons of God.
We can encounter God from exactly where we are.
Call to Action: In the comments below, be sure to share how you hope to engage in the season of Lent or what new insight you gained in this post.
Blog Notes:
*magnetic grace: I first heard this wonderful phrase from a homily given by Fr. Eugene Hensell at St. Meinrad Archabbey, Indiana.
**You can read the full text of Dei Verbum here: https://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19651118_dei-verbum_en.html
***Saint John Paul II discussed capax Dei during his General Audience on August 26, 1998. Use this link for the full document: https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/1998/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_26081998.pdf
Song for Contemplation: Take, Lord, Receive, John Foley; written by St. Louis Jesuits
This song is based on the Suscipe by Ignatius Loyola. This song is very prayerful and can serve as a meditation.
Lenten Resources:
For resources for Lent, go to https://www.usccb.org/prayer-worship/liturgical-year/lent
A meaningful way to enter into Lent (or any day) is to read scripture and pray, meditating on what you read or praying in silence, allowing the Spirit to speak in your heart. God doesn’t desire perfect prayer – just a heart willing and open. Daily readings can be found at https://bible.usccb.org/
