Letting Go to Receive

During the season of Lent, Cait Winters ponders our need to die to self in order to live.

Lent is upon us, beginning at the end of a long, gray winter here in New England. It was one of the coldest and snowiest in recent memory but as the ice thaws around us, trees begin to bud. Living in a place that experiences all four seasons provides many parallels to liturgical life. Advent and Christmas are times of parable, when we anticipate and celebrate the hope of Christ born in our hearts to lead us through the dark winter season. The inky nights spur me to remember the Christ Child as I switch on lamps at dusk and light candles to warm the chilly mornings.

Lent and spring can, at first glance, seem more paradoxical. We see the world begin to wake up around us through creatures great and small and increasingly brighter days. My instinct is to celebrate, to bask in the comfort of a gentler season right away. But as the birds sing out, the Church takes up fasting and almsgiving and buries the Alleluia. It is a desert time of quiet reflection and somber prayers where we follow Jesus to the cross to learn to die to self.

Crosses Lead to Resurrection

While it can seem like a mismatch on the surface, a season of spiritual denial to begin a season of earthly abundance, the opposite is true. While our bodies hunger, Jesus fills our spirits. While we sit in silence, our souls sing to God. While we let go of monetary and material things, we receive grace and grow in virtue. While we simplify our surroundings and veil the beauty in our churches, we are becoming radiant within. The tender early spring is akin to the reawakening we, as Catholics experience during Lent. Jesus, our Sun, beckons us to turn our hearts to Him so they can unfurl like flowers.

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When Easter finally comes, spring is in full bloom and we, as Church, are too. We are free to feast and sing our Alleluias once again. Jubilant sons and daughters of our King, partaking in the glory of the Lord’s Resurrection. Reflecting on this reminded me of the three days Jesus laid in the tomb after His Passion and Crucifixion. To His disciples, He seemed gone, but He was never so close to them. To the women who prepared His body He was still, but He was acting on their behalf. To the world, Jesus seemed defeated, but He was conquering death.

The Importance of Parable

Our faith is one of mystery; our Teacher, one of parables. In the Gospel of Matthew we see the disciples ask Jesus why He preached to the multitudes in this way:

The disciples approached him and said, “Why do you speak to them in parables?”

He said to them in reply, “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted. ... This is why I speak to them in parables, because ‘they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand.’” (Matthew 13:10-11, 13)

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Our faith is a gift that illuminates the truth behind the Lenten sacrifices we offer to God through the virtue of Christ. They are not mere mortification, but acts of love that transform our souls to a greater likeness of Jesus, Who shows us the way.

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