The readings for this Sunday speak of repentance and new beginnings, of God's yes to our plea of "Lord have pity on me; heal me though I have sinned against you." (Responsorial from Psalm 41). It is a good place to begin as we look to Ash Wednesday and our Lenten journey this year. I have written about Isaiah 43 before because it is one of my favorite readings in Isaiah. But, as we all know, the way of repentance and redemption is not easy. It is a continual baptism into a death to sin and a rising in the Spirit.
True repentance and true redemption can only begin in those terrible moments when we get an honest glimpse of our own depravity, and when we begin to understand how we cling to it, how we hide in it. I love the Leonard Cohen song: By The Rivers Dark and I listen to it a lot during Lent. It perfectly captures the foreboding sense that one is being hunted, and the fear of being found, even though you know you are hopelessly lost.
And I am afraid of being swept away, of being consumed in religious zeal, and making some rash commitment that will be difficult to keep in another frame of mind. I find it better to not try than to try and fail. I want to be cool, I want to be accepted, I don't want to be fanatical or foolish. I want to be loved by all, admired by all ectetera, blah, blah blah.......
The first hurdle I faced in growing in faith was a moment that for me was that I was confronted with defining who Jesus was, God Incarnate who was bodily resurrected from the dead, the next one is even more difficult, it is to let the passionate love of Him completely enrapture you. To understand that I am not my own and that if I yield and allow Him to sweep me away, I will have no control over where He will take me. It may be a bold and uncomfortable martyrdom, or it may be a quiet, fairly comfortable life of faith, but I must be willing to live the life with integrity and courage. I am not there yet, I still hide from Him, but He is still pursuing me, and those footsteps are getting closer. This Lent I hope to confront what I am clinging to, and plea for the Lord to have pity on me.
Behold, I am doing a new thing, can you not perceive it?
I remember once attending a talk by Deacon James Keating of the Institute for Priestly Formation on sin and redemption, the theme being "Suffer the coming of Christ.". He began speaking on the Scriptural events of the Fall, and he spoke of God's message to Adam and Eve. With the deep menacing tone the Deacon paraphrased God's Protoevangelium in Genesis 3:15 into: "I am coming to get you." My first thought was, does he realize how scary that sounds? Surely he does not mean it to be so frightening! What happened to Jesus Loves Me? I quickly realized that Deacon Keating intended the message to sound this way, and the shock of it quickly moved me past some highly sentimentalized notions of my Savior, a long overdue grace. His coming is a terror because if I am to authentically receive Him, I must let go of my lifeline to things that are passing and let Him sweep me away.
I once was in a class where the topic for the day was beginning contemplative prayer and as we were wrapping up our prayer a woman at our table gasped "look at your face!" My face was apparently flushed, and I could feel the warmth in my cheeks. Father just said, yes sometimes that happens in prayer, and I made some an embarrassed joke about drinking too much coffee, to which Father laughed and nodded and went on with his instruction. But I was shaken, not just because it was so public, but because I for a moment perceived Him, more intensely than I had in quite awhile. and it is like standing on a precipice. Thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and you instinctively pull away! A moment when I feel His call, and I pull back because He may ask for more that I want to give. He may be calling me to a higher level of kindness, to make a sincere apology, or He may be illuminating an area in need of repentance, whatever it is it may be better not to know.
I once was in a class where the topic for the day was beginning contemplative prayer and as we were wrapping up our prayer a woman at our table gasped "look at your face!" My face was apparently flushed, and I could feel the warmth in my cheeks. Father just said, yes sometimes that happens in prayer, and I made some an embarrassed joke about drinking too much coffee, to which Father laughed and nodded and went on with his instruction. But I was shaken, not just because it was so public, but because I for a moment perceived Him, more intensely than I had in quite awhile. and it is like standing on a precipice. Thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and you instinctively pull away! A moment when I feel His call, and I pull back because He may ask for more that I want to give. He may be calling me to a higher level of kindness, to make a sincere apology, or He may be illuminating an area in need of repentance, whatever it is it may be better not to know.
And I am afraid of being swept away, of being consumed in religious zeal, and making some rash commitment that will be difficult to keep in another frame of mind. I find it better to not try than to try and fail. I want to be cool, I want to be accepted, I don't want to be fanatical or foolish. I want to be loved by all, admired by all ectetera, blah, blah blah.......
The first hurdle I faced in growing in faith was a moment that for me was that I was confronted with defining who Jesus was, God Incarnate who was bodily resurrected from the dead, the next one is even more difficult, it is to let the passionate love of Him completely enrapture you. To understand that I am not my own and that if I yield and allow Him to sweep me away, I will have no control over where He will take me. It may be a bold and uncomfortable martyrdom, or it may be a quiet, fairly comfortable life of faith, but I must be willing to live the life with integrity and courage. I am not there yet, I still hide from Him, but He is still pursuing me, and those footsteps are getting closer. This Lent I hope to confront what I am clinging to, and plea for the Lord to have pity on me.
Behold, I am doing a new thing, can you not perceive it?
Peace and Grace,
Heidi
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