A Lenten Journey
For the benefit of my non-Catholic friends:
In the Catholic Tradition, after the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Maundy Thursday, all the consecrated hosts are removed from the Tabernacle and placed in the Altar of Repose, a temporary altar. The door of the Tabernacle is also left wide open. The church is dark and sombre with only candlelight. The Crucifix and all holy statues are hidden behind purple sheets of cloth. The warm, inviting nave is transformed into a hollow, cavernous form, devoid of its colour and energy. This ambience continues through the Good Friday service, where the choir sings a cappella, and no music is played. Every year it is the same, but this year, the priest said something very poignant at the Good Friday service that invited me to see and embrace this solemn annual ritual anew.
Fr. Erbin Fernandez said that the purpose of this, once a year, when the Tabernacle is empty, and the Crucifix is covered, no flowers, no music, no Mass celebrated, is for us to be reminded of what life is like without Christ. Without Christ, we have no one to help us with our burdens, we have to bear them alone. Without Christ, we are lost, we are directionless. It probably isn’t astounding to you or anything new. It’s not to me either. I know this rationally, intellectually. Yet, today, I KNOW it, a felt sense deep in my soul.
It is poignant to me because of how this Lent has shown up to me. My Lenten reflections started at a retreat a week before Ash Wednesday. The focus was on how Jesus embraced his humanity in the desert temptations. He eschewed power, fame, and popularity. Jesus, though God, chose to be fully human and dependent on his Father. I know this, yet I KNOW it again, it was an ‘Ah Ha’ moment! There was a sudden clarity. Jesus showed me how to be fully human: to admit my weaknesses, limitations, and things I am ashamed of. I don’t have to be powerful, popular, productive, etc., but I DO have to be human and depend on God.
The Gospel on the parable of the Prodigal Son, on one of the Sundays in Lent, convicted me of how I have squandered my inheritance from God. A gentle voice of grace invited me to consider how I am the prodigal son, and the lavish Father to embrace my children for who and where they are.
Fr Ben, in one of his homilies on the raising of Lazarus from the dead, said that the story reveals that with Jesus, NO ONE is beyond the reach of redemption. What powerful and assuring words.
Last Sunday, Palm Sunday, once again, the gentle voice of grace invited me to consider where I have been fickle-minded. How often have I proclaimed that Jesus is my God and Savior, my King, my Deliverer, my All in all, but when things get tough, I take over control from God and fall into despair.
I was not intentional about my reflections this Lent. But God was intentional with me. He drew me to Himself week by week in His gentle way, through the wilderness. He never stops pursuing me.
I painted this, in watercolour, to depict my time in the wilderness.
