While talking with a dear friend, we were discussing how this season of Lent was going for each one of us.
We’ve known each other for years, sharing the hardships and trials of our lives and families, so it’s not difficult for us to be open with each other.
In what felt like an open and vulnerable way, she shared with me that this Lent has been very challenging for her. In previous years, we had shared what we did for Lent, but this year, the focus shifted from what to do to why to do it.
Hmmm… Interesting shift in perspective.
And you, are you clear about how you live your Lent?
We remembered how in previous years it was about giving up certain foods (like chocolate, haha), or, as my mom did, giving up soda.
In other years, it was about stopping talking about others, or, as my grandpa used to say, stopping eating our neighbors.
Inevitably, I also remembered the same conversation I had with my daughters when they were much younger. Going back to the beginning of my own memories, I remembered when I was little, and in catechism we were given a sheet of specific activities for Lent. It was a copy, of a copy, of a copy of a drawing representing a board game, beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending with Easter Sunday. The image had 40 squares, and each one had an activity or challenge to complete. I don’t remember ever finishing it, but I do remember coloring it with enthusiasm and dedication.
Something that was very different about this conversation with my friend was the idea that the changes we would make were intended to be permanent, rather than just for 40 days. The changes would not only fulfill the intention of making a sacrifice, but also seek to be transformed by, and in love.
I don’t know at what point in my adult life I “knew” that changes during Lent ideally aren’t just during this season, but my reality had been that after it ended, I would go back to eating chocolate or its equivalent. The intention for deeper change began to emerge little by little.
My friend and I discussed, with special attention not only how difficult it is to change, but even more closely, discovering what God is calling her to change and seeking to maintain that change permanently.
It’s one thing to think about what each of us thinks we can (or want) to do during Lent. But it’s a completely different matter to WANT to hear from God what He’s inviting each of us to change.
In your case, is there anything about you that you’d like to change beyond 40 days?
Would you like to ask God what He’s inviting you to change about yourself?
Our conversation continued, and we agreed that once we discover what God is inviting us to change, it’s so easy to forget. We’ve been that way for so long in our lives that sometimes we don’t even realize we’re still in that same tendency.
When we realize it, and want to change it… it’s not necessarily easy. Change can feel so huge and impossible that working on it feels like failure after failure after failure. The possible consequence? Giving up on the effort and/or self-criticism.
In the Gospel, it describes how a woman found in adultery is brought to Jesus. The crowd seems to want to hear Jesus condemn her. And Jesus doesn’t. In fact, after inviting those without sin to cast the first stone, he addresses the woman and, among other things, says:
“Go, and sin no more.”
And all without condemnation, scolding, or criticism.
Wow.
Some deeply rooted thoughts, feelings, and habits are very difficult to change.
And you, the times you’ve wanted to change and think you can’t, do you condemn, scold, or criticize yourself?
If the Spirit leads you, share with Jesus the carpenter your reaction to your own change. And perhaps you’ll discover that Jesus doesn’t condemn, scold, or criticize you for your efforts.
Marisol
P.S. We can hear about how Jesus doesn’t condemn the woman found in adultery in the readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent, Year/Cycle C.
