Lent has begun. As a child I would prattle along with all kinds of clever repartee -- based no doubt on unrealized misspelling -- about dryer residue and black sweater bans. But hopefully even then I knew somewhere deep in my soul that I was being sophomoric. Though the season has not been as ritualized and developed in my religious tradition as it has in others, even we have recognized that Lent is about something important. If we haven't always wanted to get serious about "giving up" one thing or another in observance, the realization has probably not been too far beneath the surface that our resistance is less about freedom than our profound and gripping addictions. So dependant on so many things, we simply can't bring ourselves to set any of them aside -- even if only for a time; even if for the healing of our spirits.
And so this season begins, and I wonder about the spiritual and psychological clutter in the household of my own soul. What might I "give up", if that is the description of it; or what might I clear away? My wife might suggest the iTunes store or the complete DVD collection of Hogans Heroes episodes I've been working my way through during lunches with the dog. The cell phone comes to mind, and e-mail. How many times do I check for messages -- in a day? In an hour? In...?
Or if not "giving up," what might I "take on" as a spiritual discipline throughout the season? Regular vacuuming would be nice, or more diligent updating of my check register. But seriously: what?
If I learned anything -- brought home with me anything of value -- from my recent retreat, it is the importance of being "still"; the constitutional necessity of looking out the window patiently enough, and often enough to see the particular arc of the tree branch across the street or the nuanced hue of today's sky blue or the unique pattern of the snow thaw on the lawn.
"Still" enough to see, to hear, to smell, to feel those dynamics unfolding and swirling both around me and within. I am no longer on a train with a passing landscape, but I am in a context -- an environment -- in which I have no business participating if I have not first taken the honoring time to become aware of it.
Maintaining"stillness" doesn't sound quite as sexy as "giving up chocolate" or some other indulgence, but it seems healthier to me -- the calorie issue notwithstanding.
4 comments:
For some reason giving up something for Lent this year has felt like a self-centered concept - "it's all about me." Instead, my idea was to try to do something on a regular basis (daily, weekly?) that would be of service to others. However, that is as far as my thought process got and I couldn't come up with what that would be. I would be open to suggestions...
I agree that Lent is not intended to be narcissistic. I am of the mind that the intended derivative value of taking on a Lenten discipline is the "patterning" that discipline can create for the long term. If that's true, then I would encourage you to identify a practice or practices of service that could become a habit beyond lent. Perhaps that could mean daily telephone calls to people whose social contacts are limited. It could mean weekly notes mailed to someone in need of contact or encouragement. It could mean keeping a bag handy and intentionally picking up litter as you see it throughout the day. Does any of that get your own imagination stirring?
Yes, those are good suggestions. Thanks!
I am inspired to start with SCHEDULING time for stillness. Thank you for the idea and for helping me remember to pay attention to my context. I just looked out the window and paid attention to the presence of light and shadows in a way that I haven't noticed in a long while. And as I think about Mary's comment, I'm thinking that the practice of individual stillness could very well result in being a service to others...
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