SPIRITUAL CRIPPLES

The Second Sunday in Lent

Twelve days ago—does it seem longer?—we stepped into this year’s Lenten desert. Most of the Lenten road is still in front of us, but you’ve gone far enough along to get a sense of Your Lent, 2010. Is it worth finishing? Are you stretching—perhaps discovering—any spiritual muscles?

Until five months ago, I spent the past several years laid up in bed or in a wheelchair, unable to walk. With the help of what Steve Mitchell calls the “exoskeleton”now on my leg, I can walk again, if ungracefully. I’ll never be a contestant on "Dancing with the Stars," but that was an unlikely possibility before my accident.

Now that I can walk (that’s what I like to call it, regardless of how it looks), I spend a couple of hours every day working on the grounds of my little ranchito. I can only stand for about 10-15 minutes before I have to stop and rest, but those little periods of work have made a difference. A lot of the ground has been cleared, I built a fire pit of which I am almost sinfully proud, did some minor repairs to these old buildings and begun began to prepare the ground on which I plan to build a chapel. Not much by most people's standards, but not bad for an old crippled guy (“handi-capable” I’m told is the politically correct term these days).

It’s come at a cost. I wake up in the middle of almost every night with leg or back cramps. I don’t enjoy them and if they someday go away, I don’t think I’ll spend any time hoping for their return. That said, when I get the first pangs of them every night, there is something in me that rejoices. I get the cramps because I can walk. The back pain comes because I’m chopping with my hoe or digging with my pick. Vale la pena, as the Spanish saying goes.

I think about how happily Lenten my work is as I push my wheelbarrow full of black dirt around, trying to level this most unlevel ground. I need to have a plan, or nothing that I do will make any sense, and I need to persevere, or nothing will get done.

You and I can “endure” Lent—live through it—like the visit of an unwelcome guest. We can set a couple of rules and then see if we keep them, and then Easter will come and we can be happy Lent’s passed. Or, we can plan our Lent and use it to grow. How would you like your spiritual life to be different (has it occurred to you it could be?) than it is? The reason your spiritual life isn’t all you’d like is because you’ve decided otherwise. It’s understandable. Other things take precedence. Perhaps of necessity, perhaps because of circumstances, perhaps because you don’t have a clue as to what you’d like your spiritual life to be. Take two minutes to ask yourself what things do take precedence over your spiritual life; you might be surprised at the answers. Whatever they are, this Lent can change that.

Do you pray regularly? Do you feed your spiritual life by reading books to nurture your faith? The Bible is a Good Book, but it’s long and parts of it are a bit strange. Find yourself a decent little commentary (if you don’t know of one, ask your priest) and read one of the books of the Book this season. I’m reading St. Mark’s Gospel. Do you have secret or painful sins you hide or hide from? Scary as it may seem, go to confession. Sometimes it’s like plunging yourself into an acid bath, but the freedom it gives will touch your spirit in ways nothing else can. If you have the courage to pursue it, remember one thing: nowadays people will say something like “I know I should go to confession,” or “I’m gonna go to confession someday.” But a long time ago, a much happier phrase was “offering” our confession. It puts it in the right perspective.

However grand and well-thought out our Lenten plan, it’s meaningless if we don’t keep it. When you go to Mass today, listen to the Gospel. The Canaanite Woman drove the Lord’s disciples crazy with her constant pestering. “Send her away,” they begged Jesus. “She crieth after us!” The Gospel is about perseverance, and perfectly chosen for this time of Lent. A simple Lenten plan, regularly kept, benefits us much more than an elaborate scheme we observe now and again. Most of us fail at some point. That’s okay. It’s what we do after we stumble that determines the value of our Lent. As I’ve mentioned, a Lenten rule you don’t stumble over occasionally isn’t challenging you enough.

All of us are crippled spiritually. But with a little planning and perseverance, we can still stretch ourselves and grow. The cost may be a few muscle cramps of the spirit, but my guess is you’ll find them strangely welcome.