The UnLenten practice of taking hold
When my church’s worship leaders met a few weeks ago to prepare for our Lent worship series someone jokingly mused, “The pandemic experience of the past year has already demanded that we give up so much. Do we really need to adopt the practice of giving up something for Lent in 2021?” Given the magnitude of grief and loss that our world has experienced these past 12 months, our Zoom room portraits instantly responded with a flurry of knowing nods.
It’s as if Lent 2020 is still hanging around. Easter 2020 seems a distant memory or a long-ago blip, leaving us to ponder whether there has been any resurrection in the midst of so much fear, loss and cumulative destruction in almost every corner of the world.
As people of faith, we know the Easter story, yet many of us pandemic-weary folk remain entrenched in the shock, denial and bargaining stages of grief. We’re not even close to accepting the realities of 2020, let alone at a point of finding meaning in the face of 2021’s ongoing uncertainties. Given all this, the question that came up at the worship planning meeting of how to practice Lent this year continued to wriggle and squirm within my being.
Do we really need to give up even more for Lent 2021? Does it make any sense for us to impose more restraint on ourselves, given the constraints we’re currently living within?
As this question tangled with me, I came upon a quote from Howard Thurman, black mystic and spiritual guide of Martin Luther King Jr. Thurman notes that, “The true purpose of all spiritual disciplines is to clear away whatever may block our awareness of that which is God in us…”
This is one of the most succinct explanations I’ve found as to why it makes sense to give up something for Lent. By clearing away the distractions, we begin to see differently. Opening our awareness to the presence of God in ourselves and in others. It’s when distractions are cleared away that we are able to see and delight in the daily reminders of God’s sustenance and care. God continues to show up in our lives and in the lives of others, whether we’re able to see that or not; even when pandemic tears and grief have blurred our soul’s ability to see.
What Thurman describes is the necessary preparation for Easter - so that when we hear the familiar words, “He is risen!” we are able to respond with a whole-hearted, “Of course He is risen!” We can do this because our spiritual muscles of attention have become practiced and strengthened so as to see resurrection in the myriad of places that it dependably shows up both within and around us. This age-old practice of clearing away or giving something up for Lent makes logical sense. It prepares us to whole-heartedly receive the Easter message.
However, on the way to ridding my cupboards of anything remotely decadent for the weeks leading up to Easter, something caused me to pause this year. What I realized is that I’d actually missed the point. I’d confused the ends with the means.
Thurman reminds us that whatever we choose is much more about our ability to see and become aware of the presence of God than it is about the particular tools we use to get us to the place of seeing. It stands to reason then that the practice of taking hold of something may just as effectively open awareness to God, as does the tradition of giving up something for Lent. Perhaps it’s the “new math” for an already grief-filled Lent 2021. Addition is the new subtraction.
This season of Lent, I’ve chosen to add a practice to my spiritual toolkit, rather than subtract something as a way to open my awareness of this God who promises resurrection. This God who mysteriously resides within and among us all. I’ve decided to savour a piece of dark chocolate each day (one of life’s sure reminders that the world is good and blessed), while reading a favourite scripture text, or listening to a well-loved piece of music, or simply taking in the lovely winter scene framed by my living room window.
What is it that you could choose to add to your toolkit to strengthen your spiritual muscles of attention and awareness?
Whatever you choose, may it accomplish the necessary and grace-filled work of clearing the lens of your soul which has been too long blurred by tears of grief.
Whatever you choose, may you discover kindness and compassion, and perhaps even a measure of delight. God knows, our grief-stricken world can certainly use more of these right now.
Whatever you choose, may it reveal to you the promise of resurrection - so that you might join the throngs on Easter Sunday morning saying, “Of course, He is risen!”
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