WHY LENT?

Tuesday after Second Sunday of Lent

Though nobody wants to hear much about sin, at least when the sin is their own, we’re all interested in hearing about the sins of others. We often listen with a show of concern and a somber visage, but inside there is a part of us saying, “Tell me more! Tell me more!” All of us have a bit of the Pharisee we’ve tucked away in a corner of our hearts—we’re all hypocrites. You’ve heard it and so have I: one of the favorite complaints made by those who don't go to church is "the church is full of hypocrites." They’re right; it is. When people tell me that I always agree and say, “Problem is, everybody who doesn’t come to church is a hypocrite, too.” Being a hypocrite—saying one thing while doing something else—is human. Not admirable, but not unusual.

One thing nobody has ever said to me (and walking around in a cassock with a collar means everybody who wants to get something off their chest assumes that’s why you’re there) is that they don’t come to church because the church is a hothouse of Grace and they don’t want any just now.

The church is chock full of sinners—won’t find anybody who’s not except in the Tabernacle—it’s also true the church is the place Saints are made. Lent is a special time we concentrate on our struggle with sin, but that’s a means to an end, not our goal. Our goal isn’t even to grow in virtue, though that, too, is a necessary part of our life in Christ. Our goal, it sounds almost trite to say, is Heaven.

It sounds trite because it’s been trivialized. Heaven is either a cartoon place where people sit on clouds playing harps, or it’s sentimentalized into the place where we’re reunited with the hamster we had when we were six.

Scripture shows us only a few glimpses of Heaven. My favorite is from the Book of Revelation, the Apocalypse, chosen as the Epistle for the Mass on All Saints Day: “After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; And cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. And all the angels stood round about the throne, and about the elders and the four beasts, and fell before the throne on their faces, and worshiped God, Saying, Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might, be unto our God forever and ever. Amen.”

No harps or hamsters, but the Redeemed singing hymns of praise to the One-in-Three. I used to tell people who whined about Solemn High Mass taking an hour and twenty minutes to read these verses. If one-and-a-half hours seems too long to be at Mass, you might consider your other options for eternity!

Of course we’ll be reunited with those we love (well, most of them probably), and everybody except St Thomas Aquinas and me believes our dogs will meet us in Heaven. But bear in mind that everything we can say about Heaven—everything the Bible says about Heaven—is symbolic. We can barely describe the taste of a really, really smooth sip of bourbon or the inexpressible delight of our first kiss; how can we hope to put words to That which is the answer to the longing of every human heart?

We don’t “earn” going to Heaven. Our Protestant friends are right when they say salvation comes from Grace—God’s life given freely to us. But our Protestant neighbors are wrong if they say salvation requires nothing of us but calling on Jesus as “our personal Savior.” God gives us His Grace so we can grow in it. He intends to make us—are you sitting down?—perfect. In fact, nothing less than perfection will satisfy Him. “Thou hast made us for Thyself,” St Augustine says at the beginning of his famous book, The Confessions. St Thomas Aquinas tells us God has made us to be His friends—not nodding acquaintances but the most intimate of companions, closer than any human relationship. What does Jesus mean when He says there will be no marriage in Heaven? He doesn’t just mean there won’t be any weddings, nor does He mean we won't have a clue where our husband or wife is, as if they’re wandering about in a really big Eternal Mall. He means all the associations we’ve forged here on earth, even the closest, pale in comparison to the depth of the relationship each of us will have with His Father—through Him—in the Holy Ghost.

Here on earth, we are preparing for an eternity with God—not as we’ve imagined Him, but as He Is—our ideas, our thoughts and beliefs about Him are all too small. The Lord is working with us to bring us to perfection. Our struggle with sin and growth in virtue through Grace, are molding us into meet companions of our Savior. This season recalls us to those basic truths and spurs us on our way.

Considering what He has in mind for us, Lent seems kinda short, doesn’t it?