Lent 2021

 

Usually I spend Lent with an agenda: practices, assignments, schedules. I set these for myself so I can experience all Lent has to offer. I take it up a notch for the Triduum. They are our High Holy Days, the heart of the Paschal Mystery, and the reason we celebrate Easter! So each year I have a plan and I’m all-in. I give up things and spend more time in silence and prayer; it’s a disciplined time. And each year I go into the Triduum with this mindset, only to be reminded that my efforts aren’t what matters. As the liturgies, services, and traditions begin, I quickly realize anew that I only need to fully participate in them to receive the graces I need. God takes care of me when I let go of control. 

This year, Lent has been different. A part of me feels like it’s been Lent for a long time, that I’ve been making sacrifices and practicing self-denial ever since the pandemic started. With some exceptions, I’ve been at my home convent since March 2020, and haven’t seen my family since August. Being cut off from them was a painful separation, and I got lonely. When Lent started, I didn’t want to set goals and rev up my spiritual practices, as I usually do. The gravitas of Ash Wednesday didn’t plant my feet on a firm Lenten path. Instead, I drifted into the liturgical season, feeling little personal connection, struggling to focus on my prayer. I eventually realized something: I don’t need to fashion a cross for myself out of discipline, behaviors, and practices. I’ve been carrying my cross for a long time, and how I did that was what mattered. It’s my way of experiencing the Passion.

After reflection, I had some clarity about the invitation for me this Lent. I embraced opportunities to get closer to God and others, to move from the heart more, caring for others and myself. I hoped to enter into the spirit of Lent in a more gentle way, which I instinctively knew I needed. I still benefitted from Lenten practices: Stations of the Cross, special liturgies, and community devotions. I also reflected on my personal experience of the cross. There were spiritual insights. I realized that my suffering is a doorway to greater understanding of that of others. Previously, when I compared my experience with that of others during this hard time, I would negate my struggles and difficulties.

As Palm Sunday approached, I recalled bittersweetly how powerful Holy Week usually is for me. I doubted that it would be that way for me this year. But I joined the procession, palm in hand, participated in the interactive Gospel reading, and sang “The King of Glory comes…” with my sisters, and left chapel inspired. I learned the same lesson I always do: the Church will bring me into the spirit of the Paschal Mystery. She will minister to my soul, if I let her. It isn’t what I do, or don’t do, that matters.

Now I feel like my feet are on the ground. I’m more focused, as I follow the light of the fire that has been kindled within me. I'm responding to another invitation, to be close to Jesus in His Paschal Mystery. I know that I’ll find both the Crucified and Risen Christ as I continue forward, both in the liturgy and in myself. The road may still be long, but having light to walk by makes a big difference.