
Making Sense of Lent

and the Election of Suffering
Lent
is upon us
—
and many of us find ourselves in
a rather recurring quandary. What
are we going to do during Lent?
Even the youngest among us have
had many years to ponder this question
and to arrive at something of an
answer that will satisfy not simply
the question, but the season. It
is, after all, a season of abnegation,
of self-denial, calculated to something
more than what we intend to actually
derive from it. What I mean is this:
we’ve squandered the years in petty
oblations that are in some way more
satisfying to us than vexatious,
let alone painful. We are reluctant
to attend the school of suffering
and most often find ourselves truant.
Indeed, we think to ourselves that we have suffering enough
— all of us — and see little value
in that apparently wanton sacrifice
we call Lent.
It is true.
It is equally true than none, or
little, of the suffering we endure
(and much of it is great) is of
our own choosing, but rather comes
to us wittingly or not, through
the wiles of the world, the flesh
and the devil — or through apparently
capricious, or at the very least
unavoidable, devices and circumstances
to which we are naturally averse.
We cannot change this — or we would.
We endure it — because we must.
This is suffering rightly understood
as an evil. And so it is. It is
a privation of a good that ought
to be present but is not, or is
present very defectively or deficiently.
In any event, we cannot change it.
This is quite distinct from suffering not as an ineluctable
evil, but as a redemptive
choice. It is, in fact,
and the more you look at it, much
more akin to the sufferings of Christ
— Who chose to suffer ...
Who was, in fact, “The Suffering
Servant”.
What are we to make of this?
Jesus Christ did not “have to” suffer — He chose
to suffer.
Why?
To redeem us from our sins.
Is that answer too simple, too naive, to be acceptable?
I will not weary you with the unnecessary complexities
of theological justifications (all
quite valid, all quite in keeping
with reason) which concern the nature
of the inextricable relationship
between love, justice, and atonement
— especially as they pertain
to the very ontological fabric of
existence itself ... of which we
are part. You will have to seek
that elsewhere. Start with your
Catechism (the
Baltimore Catechism
is still by far the clearest and
the best.)
The point of Lent is this: we choose to suffer.
We choose to conform ourselves to
Christ — and not just because Christ
suffered, but because to conform
ourselves to Christ ineluctably
entails suffering and privation.
As it has been observed, there are
many who wish to share in Jesus
triumphant entry into Jerusalem
— but few, exceedingly few — who
wish to share in His Passion on
the night of His betrayal and the
day of His Crucifixion.
We do not
“have
to”
— but
we can choose to.
Choice is ever the election of love,
yes? And love, as St. John of the
Cross states, ever makes likeness
between the lover and the Beloved.
We choose to be like Christ. We
choose, in some way, in some measure,
to do something akin to what Christ
Himself had chosen to do — for
us.
And now we choose, too — and to do it
for Him!
Choosing
Suffering
Yes! We may choose our sacrifice!
We may choose our suffering
— but I suggest that our own present
suffering, the suffering from which
we cannot escape ... the suffering
that, were it otherwise possible,
we would flee, is the one most acceptable
to God — and only remains to be
chosen by us ...
also.
Of course, in the suffering that
inevitably leads to death there
is always the ghastly option of
“physician-assisted suicide” — a
mortal sin with everlasting consequences:
eternal separation from God and
unending suffering in Hell — for
both the physician and the dying;
that is to say, a choice between
passing suffering and suffering
for all eternity. This is
the trendy option of the living
who do not know God and abhor the
very concept — and the dying who
have a defective or deficient concept
of God, or no belief in Him whatever.
This is not only suffering without
meaning, but suffering as an instrument
to impugn God, and in this sense,
it is doubly mortal.
There are infinitely better paths before us in our encounter
with suffering: we must make
it an election,
we must willfully take to ourselves
that which is natively repugnant
to us — but
— and here is the crux (Latin for
Cross ...) of the matter:
it must benefit others
— not us. Even if we choose
that suffering from which we cannot
possibly extricate ourselves, we
must bear it for others,
as Christ bore His suffering for
us.
We must pray that we be united in
our suffering with the suffering
of Jesus Christ in the Garden, at
the Pillar, and on the Cross — for
only in this will our suffering
become meaningful: through Him,
with Him, and in Him — it can become
redemptive of souls!
St. Paul tells us,
“I
now rejoice in my sufferings
for you, and fill up those things
that are wanting of the sufferings
of Christ, in my flesh, for
his body, which is the Church.”
* (Colossians
1.24)
In other words, we can share, even
participate in the suffering of
Christ — if we choose to
— and for the same end for which
He Himself suffered: the redemption
of the world, the salvation of souls.
Through this mysterious union in
suffering with Christ we exceed
ourselves, surpass all that is possible
to us apart from Him ... by becoming
one with Him. One in suffering.
One in purpose. And was there ever
greater purpose ...?
Lent call calls us to become like unto Christ, to be conformed
to Him in this life – so that after
the Cross we will be found to be
conformed to Him at the hour of
our death ... and following Him,
join Him in Heaven where He has
prepared a place of everlastingness
for us ... that where He is we may
also be!
________________________
*
“Qui nunc gáudeo in passiónibus
pro vobis, et adímpleo ea quæ desunt
passiónem Christi, in carne mea
pro córpore eius, quod est Ecclésia.”
Geoffrey
K. Mondello
Editor
Boston Catholic Journal
Comments?
Write us:
editor@boston-catholic-journal.com
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Totally Faithful
to the Sacred
Deposit of Faith
entrusted to the Holy
See in Rome
“Scio
opera tua ... quia modicum
habes virtutem, et servasti
verbum Meum, nec non
negasti Nomen Meum”
“I
know your works ...
that you have but little
power, and yet you have
kept My word, and have
not denied My Name.”
(Apocalypse 3.8)
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