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LENT—HAVE YOU GIVEN UP ON GIVING UP?
BY: SUSAN VOGT
A year ago, I was facing Lent—again. I was ready to repeat the routine of what I usually do for Lent: no sweets or complaining, extra prayer, and the usual fasting and abstinence. I realized, though, that I wasn’t growing or being challenged. I decided to find a practice that would remind me daily of this penitential season and join me to Jesus’ sacrifice of his life for others.
What if I gave away one thing a day for the 40 days of Lent? I wanted to live a simpler lifestyle both for spiritual reasons—“[Jesus] said to them, ‘Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic’” (Luke 9:3)—and also to declutter my life.
I decided to take this on as a challenge and a sacrifice—hoping it would clean out not only my closets, but also my heart and soul. This kind of sacrifice may not appeal to—or be appropriate for—everyone, but it may prompt you to consider what you can give up for Lent that will make more of a difference than losing a few pounds.
The plan
I started my Lenten giveaway with shoes. I thought this would be easy since I’m not a big collector of shoes—or so I thought. According to Soles4Souls (www.soles4souls.org), the average American owns 13 pairs of shoes. I figured I was under that and could go lower. Wrong. When I added up all my shoes (including slippers and boots), it came to 30 pairs. I was horrified! I pruned it down to 13, but I’m not happy about being average.
I moved on to clothes. I had many clothes that I seldom wear now that I work at home. I discovered that I had enough extras to give more than one thing away a day and could go by categories.
I started with the letter S—shirts, skirts, suits, slacks, sweaters and scarves—and gathered up all the old-fashioned, in need of repair or makes-me-look-fat clothes. I pulled out about seven extra items for each “S” and created breathing room in my closet. I was feeling pretty good about this pruning but ran into a problem.
What do I do with all this stuff?
At first I just collected my intended giveaways in a corner. It didn’t make sense to drive to St. Vincent de Paul every day. But then my stuff started overflowing and getting in the way.
In addition to giving things to charities, neighbors and friends, I discovered Freecycle (www.freecycle.org) and Vietnam Veterans of America (www.pickupsforvets.org) who pick up at your home. My most satisfying experience, however, was trying to get rid of an adult potty seat, the one item not claimed in my “Free Yard Sale.” A woman going to visit an elderly neighbor saw the seat and said, “The lady I’m visiting could use that!” She picked it up and went on her happy way.
The results
Hardest thing to give away: Privacy and time. We agreed to have a homeless family live with us while they were in crisis. It was a leap of faith since we weren’t sure if the weeks would merge into months.
Moriah, Tabor, Calvary: Darkness Can Be Radiant
By Father Thomas Rosica, CSB
2/7/2012
Zenit News Agency (www.zenit.org)
TORONTO (Zenit) - Moriah. Sinai. Nebo. Carmel. Horeb. Gilboa. Gerizim. Mount of Beatitudes. Tabor. Hermon. Zion. Mount of Olives. Calvary. Golgotha. Mountains are often used in the Bible as the stages of important encounters between God and his people. Though we may have never visited the lands of the Bible, we are all familiar with these biblical mountains and the great events of our salvation history that took place there.
Today's Old Testament and Gospel reading take place on two important biblical mountains-- Mount Moriah and Mount Tabor. Both readings give us profound insights into our God and his Son, Jesus, who is our Savior. First let us consider the story of the sacrifice of Isaac by his father Abraham as portrayed in Genesis 22:1-19. The story is called the Akedah in Hebrew (Anglicization of the Aramaic word for "binding") and it easily provokes scandal for the modern mind: What sort of God is this who can command a father to kill his own son?
How many pagan voices were assailing Abraham at this moment? What would a contemporary father do if he were to be called on to sacrifice his only son to God? He would be thought mad if he even considered it -- and unfaithful to God as well. What a poignant story indeed! "Take your son, your only son Isaac whom you love ... and offer him as a burnt offering. ... So Abraham rose early in the morning." Because Abraham listened to the Lord's messenger, his only son's life was spared. The binding of Isaac, then, is a symbol of life, not death, for Abraham is forbidden to sacrifice his son.
What happens on Mount Moriah finds an echo in what happens atop Mount Tabor and Mount Calvary in the New Testament: The mounts Moriah, Tabor and Calvary are significant places of vision in the Bible. For on these peaks, we see a God who never abandons us in our deepest despair, terror and death. God is with us through thick and thin, through day and night.
These mountains teach us that it is only when we are willing to let go of what we love most and cherish most in this life, to offer it back to God, the giver of all good gifts, that we can ever hope to receive it back in ways we never dreamed of or imagined. Only then will we experience resurrection, healing, consoling light and new life.
We can only speculate on what lies behind the story of the Transfiguration -- one of the Gospel's most mysterious and awesome visions (Mark 9:2-8; Matthew 17:1-8; Luke 9:28-36). Peter, James and John had an overwhelming experience with the Lord on Mount Tabor. Following the night of temptation and preceding the blackness of Golgotha, the glorious rays of the Transfiguration burst forth. Before their eyes, the Jesus they had known and with whom they walked became transfigured. His countenance was radiant; his garments streaming with white light. At his side, enveloped in glory, stood Moses, the mighty liberator, who had led Israel out of slavery, and Elijah, the greatest of Israel's prophets.
Jesus needed the light and affirmation of the mountaintop experience in his own life. In the midst of his passion predictions, he needed Mount Tabor, to strengthen him as he descended into the Jordan Valley and made his way up to Jerusalem. For every disciple since, it is the same. Those who follow Jesus must ascend the mountain to catch a glimpse of the mystery of God's presence in our world and in our lives.
And yet Mark's story of Jesus transfigured reminds us that gazing in contemplation is not enough. The disciples are told to listen to Jesus, the Beloved of God, and then return to their daily routine down in the valley.
The awesome Gospel story of the Transfiguration gives us an opportunity to look at some of our own mountaintop experiences. How have such experiences shed light on the shadows and darkness of life? What would our lives be without some of these peak experiences? How often do we turn to those few but significant experiences for strength, courage and perspective? How has the mountaintop experience enabled us to listen more attentively to God's voice -- a voice calling us to fidelity and authenticity in our belief? When we're down in the valley we often can't see Christ's glory.
The most consoling message of the Transfiguration is perhaps for those who suffer, and those who witness the deformation of their own bodies and the bodies of their loved ones. Even Jesus will be disfigured in the passion, but will rise with a glorious body with which he will live for eternity and, faith tells us, with which he will meet us after death.
So many voices assail us that we find it difficult to listen to God's voice. Before light envelops us, we need to go through darkness. Before the heavens open up, we need to go through the mud and dirt. We must experience both mountains -- Tabor and Golgotha -- in order to see the glory of God. The Transfiguration teaches us that God's brilliant life included death, and there is no way around it -- only through it.
It also reminds us that the terrifying darkness can be radiant and dazzling. During moments of transfiguration, God penetrates the hardened, incredulous, even disquieting regions within us, about which we really do not know what to do, and he leaves upon them the imprint of his own face, in all its radiant and dazzling glory and beauty.
During moments of transfiguration, God penetrates the hardened, incredulous, even disquieting regions within us, about which we really do not know what to do, and he leaves upon them the imprint of his own face, in all its radiant and dazzling glory and beauty.
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Basilian Father Thomas Rosica is a consultor to the Pontifical Council for Social Communications and the chief executive officer of the Salt and Light Catholic Media Foundation and Television Network in Canada. He can be reached at: rosica@saltandlighttv.org.
Following in his Footsteps.....
And they compelled a passer-by, Simon of Cyrene who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.
(Mark 15:2)
I am sure all you at one time or another have sat in a class or presentation in area where you would not be noticed, in hopes if they should ask a question or for volunteers, you would not be chosen..
Come on, admit it!
I know I have. It is those moments when I don’t want to be noticed is when the beacon of light finds it way to me, and you know the rest.
If I can think of someone who may I have felt this way was Simon of Cyrene. The beacon of light shined on him the day of Christ’s passion walk and he was chosen. He did not realize that what he thought was a burden turned out to be a great gift. He lightened up the load for our beloved Christ!
How many crosses do you carry daily?
We all carry crosses, some heavier than others but we know through Christ’s passion and resurrection, we do not carry them alone. Jesus is right there holding up the weight of our burdens and guiding us along the way. If we look carefully we are surrounded by Simon’s.
Who are the Simon’s in your life?
Is it a good friend who is a great listener?
Is it the smile of a stranger, when you are feeling alone? Who is it? Who are you a Simon to? Lent is a wonderful opportunity to look at our daily crosses a bit differently and seek those beacons of light on the Simon’s in your life.
Frances
