Meal From Below: A Lenten Devotional预览

Exposed to the Elements

The word Lent comes to us from an ancient word meaning spring; literally, “lengthening.” In the part of the world where these traditions were first formed, the days are growing longer and the night is receding. People with a particular attentiveness to the earth and sky, as well as to movements of the soul, discerned spiritual significance in this. At the very time when we are moving with intention toward the darkest and coldest regions of our faith experience, the cosmos is moving toward the life and light of resurrection. We call this paradox of faith and experience “the paschal mystery,” recognizing in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus the unfolding revelation that death is the gateway to life.

In his wilderness wanderings, Jesus must have been acutely attuned to the elements of the natural world—probably with more focus than at any other period of his life. His familiar context was the world of cities and civilization, as it is for most of us. Stories of his life have him traveling from town to town. Urban life moves at the whims of social forces, but the natural world (particularly the desert) cycles in  fundamental rhythms. The sun sets, the sun rises. The moon slivers and grows full. Grass withers and seeds fall. Seasonal rains call forth bright colors again. Over time, the metronome of natural elements can serve to regulate the soul. The heart may rage within or grow dull from exhaustion, but dawn comes nevertheless.

For those of us accustomed to the struggle of managing our world, moving into empty spaces without our props may trigger profound anxiety. If we are paying attention, however, we may find ourselves discerning a regular ebb and flow of significant realities formerly masked by our bustle of ambitions and diversions. Morning, midday, and evening. Day and night. Again and again and again. Forty.

Repetition allows for the possibility of familiarity and trust. We need reassurance, especially when we are moving into the unknown! Our temptation is to reach backward for the lavish fare that has nourished before. But during Lent, the Spirit invites us to lean into a much older, more primal way of sustaining life, a pattern that we may experience as new and strange.

We can take heart that Jesus, our Brother and Lord, has gone before us in this desert way. We may have passed here before; maybe formally in an annual Lenten discipline or through life circumstances that have broken our spirits to bare subsistence. Here we go again, and our anxiety surges. Can we remember that the days are lengthening and that death gives way to life?

This is not an incidental pause. Like the voice of affirmation at our Lord’s baptism, the elemental reassurances along the desert way are absolutely vital. We cannot be sustained for the trials of the desert (and beyond) without them.