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Jane Korvemaker reflects on the challenge of Lenten practices when life gives you unexpected penances.


I’ve experienced years where Lent, though penitential, has been almost a joy to embrace; challenging, but needed. This year I am reminded of Gandalf speaking to the Company (in the Fellowship of the Ring movie) as they embark on a three day journey: “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs, in the deep places of the world.” This year happens to reflect this sentiment in our family.

 

“We must face the long dark of Lent.”

It is one thing to be in a time of life where the journey through Lent is like passing through the well-lit halls of Moria, where there is little danger of losing our path. Some years have been like this. As I type this, sick with Covid myself along with my family, cancelling appointments and rearranging schedules, wondering about my school deadlines, I look back at those years, much as Gimli the dwarf recalls the splendid warmth that Moria once had, and can recognise and remember the hope and stable determination of our Lenten practices. But this year is different.

 

arched passageways

 

“Be on your guard.”

The temptations are different; natural penances are sinisterly replacing planned penances. Do I maintain what I originally planned still or do I abandon it? Which is most beneficial to me (and my family) to grow closer to Christ? My plan had been to fast from distractions so as to better focus on my school work, but suddenly I find I’m in need of distractions to get through the fatigue, exhaustion, and aches in the muscles.

 

“There are older and fouler things than vices, in the deep places of the world.”

I come back to wondering: what is the worst that happens to me if I have to abandon my planned Lenten practices? What belief am I holding onto that tells me I am less if I let go? Ah, here I find that which is older and fouler: am I basing my worth, at least in part, on my ability to do the things? Do I abandon my claim as a daughter of God because I cannot do the things? A real moment of reflection here.

In truth, my head knows this to be untrue—my dignity is not affected by what I do, for all sinners are invited into God’s family. I am perhaps discontented that I cannot pursue my planned practices, but I have an opportunity instead to accept the penances before me, fasting from my own desires to do my own will, and offer to God in joy this alms: the sacrifice of a heart.

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What belief am I holding onto that tells me I am less if I let go? #catholicmom

Perhaps this year my penance is to accept certain defeats but still find a way to praise God in the midst. To realize that I am incapable of meeting my own expectations at this time, but to trust that God has foreseen this and chooses to allow this to happen, believing that in some way this will bring him glory. I feel I am in good company as I look to Mary and see how the depth and darkness of her suffering could not be anticipated. But her hope and trust in God remained true. So this is my Lent now: even in the midst of the “long dark of Moria” to sing God’s praises still:

I believe that I shall see the Lord's goodness in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord, take courage; be stouthearted, wait for the Lord. (
Psalm 27:13-14)

 

Is your Lent a challenge this year? What is making it challenging?

 

dark arched tunnel


Copyright 2022 Jane Korvemaker
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