Lenten harvest

Friday, Apr. 10, 2015

My Lenten resolutions proved fruitful. In addition to attending daily Mass at least twice a week, I also tried – mostly successfully – to set aside 10 minutes each day to listen to God. (Thank you, Fr. Carl Schlichte, for pointing out that “Listen, Lord, your servant is speaking” isn’t a proper prayer, although I am often guilty of approaching it that way.)

Even though these two Lenten devotions resulted in a plentiful harvest, I have to say I’m disappointed, confused and not a little scared by it.

I’m disappointed because my prayer was that these six weeks would make me more holy. I was hoping specifically for an increased love of neighbor, but I would have taken anything – a greater knowledge of God, more strength to avoid sin, a deeper faith. Unfortunately, what I gained was an overwhelming awareness of just how far I am from having any of these virtues.

The confusion arises mostly from the day that I threw at God all my troubles – a physical pain, struggles at work, difficulty in my personal life – but when I listened for his response what I got was a marvelous idea for a short story. 

(Really, God? Thank you for the gift, but just what am I supposed to do with it? Other than write the story, of course, which I’m working on. I just don’t understand how this is an answer to my problems.)

The third emotion I’m feeling in regard to my Lenten experience is fear: I’m being prodded to leave my safe little corner. During these 40 days I’ve heard our bishop tell the catechumens to put their faith into action, and listened to Dominican Father Jeffrey Ott tell young adult Catholics that “we are called to be a church that transforms.” 

I also wrote about the visit from Sister Dianne Bergant, whose gentle but unwavering message was that, as baptized and confirmed Catholics, we are responsible for carrying on Jesus’ work of bringing glad tidings to the lowly, healing the brokenhearted, etc.

My problem is that I’m only now beginning to be able to articulate what I believe; I’m certainly not ready to start proclaiming it. And although volunteering for something small in the social justice arena might not seem threatening, I very clearly heard Sister Helen Prejean tell the story of how she came to be such a powerful opponent to the death penalty: She said “yes” to being a pen pal to a death row inmate. Then she visited him, which led to becoming his spiritual advisor, which led to accompanying him to his execution, which led to her book. Had she known where writing that first letter would lead, she never would have had the courage to start, she said, but she believes God’s grace comes at the moment we require it, and not before.

I believe her; I just don’t have her kind of faith that leads to that first “yes.” So I tried to retreat to my corner, where all I have to do is read and pray, but then along came Pope Francis with his Easter message: “To enter into the mystery means going beyond our own comfort zone, beyond the laziness and indifference which hold us back, and going out in search of truth, beauty and love. It is seeking a deeper meaning, an answer, and not an easy one, to the questions which challenge our faith, our fidelity and our very existence.”

The only person who hasn’t put his two cents in about what I should do is God, and I don’t want to ask him. I’m afraid his answer will be much more straightforward than the last one he gave.