acceptable time

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

While reading some reflections by Richard Rohr on the presence of Christ in creation from the beginning, I was struck by the phrase “Christ-soaked world.” It brought to mind two Scripture readings from Paul used for the beginning of Lent: one from 2Corinthians and the other from Romans. In both, he draws from Hebrew Scriptures, and in both, reminds us of the immediacy of God’s presence.

“In an acceptable time I heard you / and on the day of salvation I helped you…” (Isaiah 49) “Now is an acceptable time,” Paul writes is 2Corinthians. “Now is the day of salvation.” Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Now. This moment. Every moment. Because God has always “heard” and has always “helped.” From before time. That is who God is. Presence. Love. Always given. We didn’t miss it. We don’t have to wait for it. It is always poured out in and through us and creation.

In Romans Paul reminds us: “What does Scripture say? /The word is near you, / in your mouth and in your heart.” (Deuteronomy 30) God assures those listening that what is commanded is not a mystery or far away. “It is not in up in the sky, that you should say, ‘Who will go up in the sky to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?’” It isn’t across the sea either. “No, it is something very near to you already in your mouths and in your hearts. You have only to carry it out.”

We may forget this. The Pharisees did. They didn’t recognize God in Jesus let alone the tax collectors and “riffraff” he hung out with. They expected to find God in “holier” places. The temple. The people who kept all the laws. People like themselves. Jesus confounded them with his insistence of spending time with the poor and marginalized, with his talk of God’s care for sparrows and stories of rejoicing over finding a lost coin or wandering sheep. Surely the Holy One was more discriminating than that!

No, not really. God is constantly giving Godself away because that’s what Love does. The incarnation in Jesus didn’t happen because people had made such a mess of things that only the sacrifice of his life could appease an angry God. No. As the thirteenth century Franciscan theologian, John Duns Scotus taught, Christ was always the plan.

Jesus showed us to what lengths Love would go, not to atone for sins or to be a scapegoat, but to be Love’s heart and human face on this planet. “See, this is how much I love you,” he said with arms outstretched on the cross.

These readings, reminders that God lives not far away but in the depths of our hearts at this very moment, set the tone for the Lenten journey. It’s not necessarily about giving up favorite foods or candy (though I wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds) or reading more Scripture, though it could be.

Lenten practice, whatever we choose, is about helping us grow in our trust that divine Love truly does live within us—not somewhere in the sky or across the sea. Lent is a time to listen. To discover what helps us deepen our relationship with God and to do it.

The focus is not personal salvation. It never was. It’s about becoming an uncluttered conduit of love and care for others and all creation. Jesus shows us that we are part of Christ and the work of “soaking the earth” with Love and Presence. As Isaiah tells us, the fast God wants is freeing the oppressed and unjustly bound, sharing our bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and homeless, taking care of the other. (Isaiah 58)

This is the work Lent prepares us to do by reminding us to deepen our relationship with the Holy One who dwells within. Trusting it. Drawing our strength and hope from Love so we can be faithful to our part of Love’s transforming the earth.

This season invites us to take a breath, to nurture our spirits, mind, and body for this work. Now is the acceptable time.

Jesus’ life and eventual death attest to the struggle and danger of being radical love in a world that isn’t ready for it. But, as part of the Christ, that is our call.

Lent: Come As You Are

small table with purple cloth, candle, cross, shells, feather, for Lent

Photo: Mary van Balen

Lent comes quickly this year. “That’s why I’m not ready,” I tell myself as I sit quietly and ponder this column. I wanted to be more centered. I wanted my office to be straightened up, desk uncluttered to better concentrate. I wanted to have prayed more, read more, been still more. But, here I am, on the brink of Lent, behind in lots of things, and not prepared for the season at all.

Or maybe, that’s how we are meant to greet this liturgical season: No big preparations. No cultural hoopla like the marketing blitz that accompanies the coming of Christmas. This is a “come-as-you-are” event, and usually, this is how I am.

I’m pulled in many directions, full of good intentions and forgotten resolutions. Jesus has words for me in this Saturday’s gospel. When the Pharisees ask him why he’s hanging out with the sinners and riff-raff, he seems a bit surprised. Why wouldn’t he? After all, he says, those who are healthy don’t need a physician; the sick do.

So as Lent approaches, I console myself with the thought that I fit right in. Jesus isn’t expecting my office table to be clear of papers, bills, and books. He knows me too well. I think he’d feel right at home at my dining room table. It hasn’t had a tablecloth on it since Christmas. Instead, it’s been home to my daughter’s 3-D printer that arrived during her stay as she recuperated from a broken foot.

And he wouldn’t mind eating leftovers or a hastily prepared meal after I return from a long day at work. No, as I read through the Mass readings before and after Ash Wednesday, I began to relax. If I’m willing to slow down and sit with Jesus at my table and in my heart, no matter the mess, then I’m ready for Lent.

Last week, a group of friends and I shared dinner, conversation, and prayer. One woman played a song, Pilgrim, by Enya, and this line caught my attention: “All days come from one day/That much you must know/You cannot change what’s over/But only where you go.”

All days come from one day. “That day is this day,” I thought. The present day, the only one we have. Paul says something like that in Ash Wednesday’s second reading: “In an acceptable time I heard you, and on the day of salvation I helped you. Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”

Now, this moment, is the acceptable time. This day. And then the day that follows. And the day that follows that. One day at a time is the day of salvation. The anonymous author of The Cloud of Unknowing puts it this way: “Therefore, be attentive to time and the way you spend it. Nothing is more precious…God gives only the present, moment by moment…”

The thing is, I’m often not there. Not following Enya’s wisdom, I’m tempted to rethink the past, allowing regrets and sorrow from yesterday’s pain to capture my attention. Or I can spend time speculating about future scenarios for family, friends, and our world.

What grace to have this liturgical season to remind us how important it is to embrace each day along with its joys and sorrows; to trust that “this day” has something good for us, or at least that some opportunity to grow, something good can come from it.

What blessing to have the wisdom of those who have gone before us. It’s a mixed-up crowd we walk with, this “communion of saints,” canonized or not, living or dead, who recommend ancient disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving for our journey through Lent.

There are as many ways to observe these directives as there are people who follow them. One may do well to abstain from food, another from “screen time.” One may need to give herself permission to celebrate who she is, while focusing on others might be the call for someone else. Maybe we give time, money, or talents. Perhaps the grace is in receiving what is offered.

But, what it comes down to is spending these forty-days shedding what gets in the way of attending to God-with-us. It’s about nurturing ways of being that help us listen to the Holy One within and believe the amazing truth that God loves us, calls us to share Love in this world, and will help us do it. It’s about choosing to live as fully as we can, trusting that all days will come from the one day lived well.

Now Is the Acceptable Time

Lent: Come As You Are