Living Through Lent
We’re two weeks into Lent and I don’t have a specific practice this year. No habit I’m putting down or practice I’m picking up. I’m just living through Lent.
This morning I put a moss-covered cross on my front door. On Easter I’ll add some flowers to the center, but today only the cross and some greens hang there, reminding me that there are seasons of waiting and enduring. There are days or weeks or months of stumbling, struggling and surviving, when it isn’t time yet for the flowers to bloom.
The country is overwhelmed right now with the coronavirus. Today, the first case in my state ( the last to get it) surfaced in my hometown. Soon someone I know will get it.
The words ‘social distancing’ are showing up everywhere. In an age when social media has distanced us enough from real-live human relationships, must we really distance ourselves from human presence more? Must we avoid human touch? It seems so counter to what we need as a culture.
But what if it is not?
What if somehow in staying home and “social distancing” we find out how much we miss each other, how much we need each other’s presence? What if the sound of a voice, the warmth of a hug, the pat on our back, or the handshake of friendship become things we treasure as gifts? What if on the other side of this pandemic we value community for the gift that it is? What if we let differences matter less because on the other side of this thing we’ve realized we needed each other? What if we learn to keep better company with ourselves? What if we practiced silence and solitude instead of constantly monitoring the news about which we have no control? What if we learn to practice simplicity and generosity? What if we practice sacrificing for the sake of those more vulnerable?
In my last post, I quoted the priest’s words from Ash Wednesday, “Lent invites us to long for more, to go deeper with God, to step away from one thing or embrace another.” What if this “social distancing” is a Lenten fast - a doing without for a season - for the good of our own souls and for each other? Could we discover that what has passed for relationship is less than loving? What has appeared to be sacrificial was really self-serving? What has been called leadership was really exploitation? What if we took a long slow listen to our own lives and how we relate to one another?
The cross will hang on the front door for thirty more days without flowers. For those same thirty days, I’ll probably be altering my life somewhat along with the rest of the country because of this virus. Why not let it be a Lenten invitation?
