The old life,
the life of sin and pettiness, is not easily overcome and changed. The Gospel
expects and requires from man an effort of which, in his present state, he is
virtually incapable. We are challenged with a vision, a goal, a way of life
that is so much above our possibilities!
For even the
Apostles, when they heard their Master’s teaching, asked Him in despair: ‘but
how is this possible?’ it is not easy, indeed to reject a petty ideal of life
made up of daily cares, of search for material goods, security, and pleasure,
for an ideal of life in which nothing short of perfection is the goal: ‘be ye
perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.’
This world through
all its ‘media’ says: be happy, take it easy, follow the broad way. Christ in
the Gospel says: choose the narrow way, fight and suffer, for this is the road
to the only genuine happiness. And unless the Church helps, how can we make
that awful choice, how can we repent and
return to the glorious promise given us each year at Easter?
This is where
the Great Lent comes in. This is the help extended to us by the Church, the
school of repentance which alone will make it possible to receive Easter not as
mere permission to eat, to drink, to relax, but indeed as the end of the ‘old’
in us, as our entrance into the ‘new’.
Alexander
Schmemann, Great Lent
Reflection
– It has been a very
good week here in Bruno SK, at the St. Therese Institute of Faith and Mission…
but it has been also a very full one, which
leaves me somewhat short on brilliant inspiration this morning.
At the same time, I hate to let the blog
lag too much. Schmemann here certainly does remind us of just what a very high
standard of life the Gospel calls us to. We are made for heroism and totality;
we would prefer to lapse into something much less. We are made to be saints of
God; we would prefer comfort and compromise. We are made to die and rise with
Christ; we would prefer some other path, thank you very much.
Well, that’s just our humanity and its
broken voice in us. When we talk about Great Lent (or simply Lent, in our
Catholic tradition), we are not talking so much about a season, a mere space of
time marked by certain disciplines and prayers. We are not talking about a set
of practices, vital as they are: fasting, almsgiving, praying.
It is not a season or a fast or anything
we can do that is going to make the great difference for us, carrying us from
the broad (and yet paradoxically narrow) path of human limitation and
mediocrity to the narrow (and yet paradoxically liberating) way of the Gospel.
It is the Holy Spirit who does this in
us, and Lent is nothing if it is not a means to open ourselves, dispose
ourselves, for the action of the Spirit. This is the whole point of the matter.
We eat less, go without, so as to feel the emptiness within that makes us cry
out to be filled. We pray more, or better, so that this crying out is strong in
us. We love, and in striving to love experience our frailty and weakness, so
that our radical need for God may be made manifest.
It is all about the grace of God and
coming into that grace. That is Easter in us – the coming into it is Lent. We
are trying (or at least God asks us to try) to live a life that we cannot live.
The tension and strain of that is normal, expected, unavoidable. Lent helps us
to clarify this tension and direct it rightly. Easter is, as he says, not just
lots of food and drink and a big party, but the resolution of that tension not
by some brilliant insight or heroic action on our part, but in the coming of
God to us. Christ is risen, and only in that resurrection do we come into the
fullness of life for which he made us.
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