Lent 2012

It's probably due to my liturgy-deprived childhood that critical dates of the Church calendar tend to sneak up on me.  And, for that same reason, I get excited about these moments in the life of the Church.  As much as I am devoted to the faith, I find myself stumbling through the ecclesial calendar and the liturgical movements of the Church life which I encounter when I attend the local Episcopal church.  When I [recently] realized that Lent is approaching, I began to look forward to this time of reflection and journeying with Christ.

The Lenten season reminds us of the sufferings of Christ.  Unfortunately, the fascination with Jesus' sufferings have lead to masochistic tendencies, to passivity in the face of abuse and injustice, and, sometimes, toward self-destructive behavior.  Glorifying the abuse and death of a peasant by the hands of a strong power (in this case, the state), has become a commodity of piety that appeals mainly to those all too familiar with privilege.  That's to say, it's easy to romanticize and to sanctify suffering if it isn't part of one's daily existence.  I'd argue that this has left a stain of morbidity and life-denying piety on the Christian tradition.  And, for this reason, themes that regard Jesus' sufferings as "redemptive" have come under heavy criticism by feminist and liberation theologians (and rightly so!).  But lately, I've struggled to find renewed significance in the sufferings and the death of Christ and, thereby, also significance in Christ's body.  I wonder how we can understand the sufferings and the death Christ without romanticizing the pain and injustice felt by the most vulnerable of our world?  Can we truly find hope and life in the midst of despair?  Is there an affirmation of life in this story about injustice and violent death?  I find this moment in our Christian story profound and perplexing, rich and embarrassing, magnificent and offensive, yet I think my faith is forged in wrestling with it rather than passively accepting it.  During this Lenten season, I hope to spend time contemplating this twisted and strange moment at the heart of our faith--to find new life when "God-with-us" gave up his.