Season of Healing

"We must remember the original meaning of Lent, as the ver sacrum, the Church's "holy spring" in which the catechumens were prepared for their baptism, and public penitents were made ready by penance for their restoration to the sacramental life in common with the rest of the Church. Lent is not a season of punishment so much as one of healing."

-Thomas Merton, Seasons of Celebration

I am just now beginning to feel normal after a four-day bout with a nasty virus that left me unable to eat, unable to go to work, barely able to write or read (only in short bursts--there are certain pleasures I insist on no matter what). I could not just rest quietly, either. I was forced to confront that absolute lack of control we have over even our own bodies when we are ill.

This illness was a small burden compared to those others face, I am sure, but after a few days I began to view it as a kind of pre-Lenten desert experience. It purged and cleansed me physically, and, if I had caught on to the idea sooner, might also have had some purgative spiritual effects as well. Maybe its not too late.

Today I'll start trying to eat again, but I do so with great mindfulness of what I am ingesting and how much. It's not just paranoia over making myself sick. I also have noticed how mindlessly I fill myself with all manner of sugar, caffeine, alcohol, fast food. Not that any of those are inherently bad. What's perhaps worse than the up-down effect it has on my body is how I just consume like a machine with little regard for the effect, or more importantly, the experience of the food, its taste, the company I am with, the pleasure of eating.

I return to work today as well. In just two days away, I have had to surrender control of many things, and I gained a little perspective. Just like eating food again, I approach work today with a little trepidation. Part of it is fear of being reconsumed into the whirlwind of busyness, manipulation, and other fakeness that characterizes so much of work. The other part, though, is a genuine desire to appreciate my work and its effects, to be grateful for the contribution I am making, and especially to more skillfully deal with my co-workers--probably the source of greatest frustration for me. My brief "desert experience" reveals clearly that I cannot transform my workplace, and especially my colleagues. I can't even transform myself. But I can begin to open myself up to being transformed. And that requires quiet, contemplation, listening, self-reflection--skills I've dabbled with during my four day "retreat."

I think that this is how Lent is supposed to work as a season of healing. I had the "grace" to be unwillingly sent on such a journey, but with Lent we get to intentionally create a kind of mini-desert experience for ourselves. By stepping back, withdrawing momentarily from our habitual patterns, our unskillfulness is revealed in all its messy glory. We experience some degree of shame, but also a desire for repentance, and God's unwavering openess to our return. Above all, the desert cleanses our perceptions, helps us see what was there all along, and opens us for real healing.