I was never really a big Lent guy. Advent was more my season. Who wouldn鈥檛 prefer a decorated Christmas tree to a stringy palm branch? Or who wouldn鈥檛 prefer singing 鈥淥 Come, O Come Emmanuel鈥� as the snow falls outside the church to singing 鈥淒ust and Ashes鈥� on a cold and wet March Wednesday, or a cr猫che with angels, stars, and barnyard animals to the Stations of the Cross with Roman soldiers, thorny crowns, and lots of weeping people? Waiting for Santa Clause or waiting for a giant bunny? Yeah, Lent was just never appealing to me.
And then there was this whole giving up something. No chocolate. No TV. No beer! (I鈥檓 not sure what I was thinking that year). Meanwhile during Advent it鈥檚 all that and more鈥擟hristmas movies, Christmas cookies, and Christmas presents.
Who could possibly prefer Lent?
I do now. But it took the worst time of my life to get there.
On March 3, 2015, my alarm went off twenty minutes before it normally would. I poured a cup of tea, grabbed my Lent 2015 Prayer Book, and opened up to the daily readings. Lent was now in its second week and the rituals were in full swing. Twenty minutes of extra prayer in the morning, one or two daily masses during the week, and an extra stop at St. Anthony鈥檚 for confession. Of course, no pepperoni on my Friday night pizza and fasting when required. It was all set-up for me to get to Easter and look back and say, 鈥淲ell another Lent in the books. I checked all the boxes. Time to indulge in chocolate, TV, and beer.鈥� But is that what Lent is all about: checking the boxes? Trying to live this pristine life of following all the rules for the sake of following all the rules?
That afternoon my dad called and told me it was best if I came home. My mom was in the emergency room. For the next three days I did not leave the hospital. What we thought was an innocent fainting was actually terminal brain cancer. Six months later my mom was gone.
The three days at the hospital all merged into one continuous, out-of-body experience. Like those dreams where you are half-aware that you are dreaming, except I couldn鈥檛 trick my brain to change the sequence of events. By day three I was exhausted and grabbed some shut eye on a bench in the ICU lobby. I was still wearing the same clothes I put on for work that morning when I opened the Lent 2015 Prayer Book. I hadn鈥檛 read it in three days, I hadn鈥檛 gone to Mass, and I had been eating the same assortment of pre-made deli meat sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria, even on Friday. I hadn鈥檛 even prayed. So much for Lent. All the boxes were left unchecked.
What came next was a feeling of utter desperation. Not only was it Lent, but my family was in crisis. Shouldn鈥檛 I be in prayer overload? I felt completely overwhelmed spiritually. I felt this need to go on a rosary binge to save my mom. Here she was facing death and it was up to me to pray seventy times, times seven. I kept replaying Matthew in my head, 鈥淎sk, and it will be given to you.鈥� I was faced with this monumental task鈥攑ray my mom back to health. How? Ten Our Fathers every hour? 100 Hail Mary鈥檚 a day? Shouldn鈥檛 I leave the hospital immediately and go sit in a church and light a million candles?
My thoughts were interrupted when my sister came out to the lobby. It was my turn to go sit with mom.
Fr. Michael Himes, a theology professor at Boston College, emphasizes the importance of remembering that we are made 鈥渓ike God,鈥� but we are not God. It is not up to us to decide life and death. And that is not only okay, but dignified in God鈥檚 eyes. God so loved the idea of being human that God became one. In Himes鈥� opinion, there is no more radical ratification of the dignity of being human than the concept of the Incarnation. Himes calls our attention to the fact that 鈥渢he Christian tradition does not say human beings are of such immense dignity that God really loves them. It does not say that human beings are of such dignity that God has a magnificent destiny in store for them . . . No the Christian tradition says something far more radical: human beings are of such dignity that God has chosen to be one.鈥�
Himes encourages us to keep going. So what that God became human? What does that mean? It means that it is in the human life of Jesus, a human life marked by the pain and suffering of a crucifixion, where we learn who God really is. 鈥淭he Christian tradition claims that absolute agape (which is the least wrong way to think about the Mystery that we name God) is fully, perfectly expressed in human terms in the life, death, and destiny of one particular person, Jesus of Nazareth.鈥� Himes finishes the equation with this鈥攊f God is agape, and God became human in Jesus, then the life and death of Jesus teaches us who God is and how to experience God鈥檚 presence.
And that is what Lent is all about鈥攅xperiencing God in newer and deeper ways than we have before. How do we do it? By being authentically human, even when that means confronting brokenness.
Fr. Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest and founder of Homeboy Industries challenges us to re-envision how we encounter God. 鈥淲e tend to think the sacred has to look a certain way . . . cathedral spires, incense, jewel-encrusted chalices, angelic choirs. When imagining the sacred, we think of church sanctuary rather than living room; chalice instead of cup; ordained male priest instead of, well, ourselves. But lo鈥攚hich is to say, look鈥攔ight before your eyes, the holy is happening. . .鈥�
I slumped into the metal chair next to my mom鈥檚 hospital bed. She was fast asleep, recovering from brain surgery, with a dozen tubes and wires connected to machines. The room was peacefully quiet, filled only with the white noise of the ventilator humming in the background. She looked so frail.
There was only one thing to do鈥擨 gently placed my hand over hers and squeezed. It was that simple. God did not want me sitting vigil somewhere in a church, fasting from meat, with a sackcloth of ashes and incense. God wanted me HERE. Right in that hospital chair. Doing nothing more than holding my mother鈥檚 hand. Because lo鈥攔ight before my eyes the holy was happening.
It was not up to me to save her. It was up to me to embrace her pain and suffering, embrace the limitations of humanness, and to say 鈥淚鈥檓 not here to cure, I鈥檓 here to hold it with you.鈥� It is in these moments when we find God and encounter the holy. Because, as Boyle reminds us, 鈥渋n Bethlehem, the words are printed in stone on the ground: 鈥楢nd the word became flesh . . . HERE.鈥欌��
In His final moments Jesus embraced not only His own pain, suffering, and limitations as a human, but embraced the pain and suffering of those around Him. In one of His final lessons, Jesus reminded His disciples鈥攁nd us鈥攚hat was most important: finding God on the margins of human limitation by feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the imprisoned, and accompanying the sick. Not only did Jesus preach it, but He lived it. During His final meal, amongst the chaos and uncertainty, He knelt before His disciples and washed THEIR feet. The next day when, in the midst of His own suffering, He offered His comfort to the prisoner crucified next to Him.
When this is published Lent will be winding down and Holy Week will be closely approaching. Let us remember that to understand who God is, to find God, to encounter the holy, is to follow the life and death of Jesus鈥攚ho took on humanity. All of it. Even its pain and suffering. Let us focus on encountering God this Holy Week. How so? If I may suggest, get out the church, don鈥檛 worry about your turkey sandwich you made for lunch on Friday, and hold the hand of someone who needs you. Maybe it鈥檚 taking a walk with your spouse after a tough day at work. Maybe it鈥檚 buying a coffee for the man who sits outside your office wrapped in a blanket. Maybe it鈥檚 stopping by your grandparents鈥� house just to say hi. Maybe it鈥檚 picking up the phone and calling that friend who really needs that phone call.
Lent is not about trying to be perfect. It鈥檚 not about checking the boxes. It鈥檚 about being authentically human. Don鈥檛 run away from the brokenness, the pain, and the imperfections, because in those moments we encounter God. As the women along the climb to Calvary learned, when we wipe the face of those in need, those suffering, those in pain, we see the face of God.
And that is why I love Lent. It鈥檚 the perfect time to be human鈥ogether.
PATRICK NEVINS, is the assistant director of grants and special projects in the Plymouth District Attorney鈥檚 Office.