Lenten Guidelines

Dear Friends,

This Sunday is the last in Epiphany, the day we read the story of Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain, and the moment his disciples see him as he truly is: pure love, bathed in light, the holy son of God. Peter wants to hang on to this moment, make it last, make this his reality. But this mountaintop moment is a fleeting one, lasting as long as it takes to get the disciples’ attention. And then, it is back to the base camp, back to the reality of daily life, along with its struggles and challenges and people who are hurting. 

This is what we are given before we enter the season of Lent, which begins next week on Ash Wednesday. A mountaintop moment to think about before we enter the wilderness. I wonder, what would it mean to hold on to our vision on the mountain even as we intentionally enter a time of self-examination, prayer, fasting, and self-restraint? 

For many of us, Lent is a time to give up something that might be getting in the way of our relationship with God, such as an addiction or obsession, too much work or worry or distraction. But it can also be a time to add something that nurtures our relationship with God, and our relationship with one another. Maybe it means focusing on one person or thing that has been created by God and loving it better. With this in mind, I offer you the poem, “Guidelines,” by Rhina Espaillat:

Here’s what you need to do, since time began:

find something—diamond-rare or carbon-cheap,

it’s all the same—and love it all you can.

It should be something close—a field, a man,

a line of verse, a mouth, a child asleep—

that feels like the world’s heart since time began.

Don’t measure much or lay things out or scan;

don’t save yourself for later, you won’t keep;

spend yourself now on loving all you can. 

It’s going to hurt. That was the risk you ran

with your first breath; you knew the price was steep,

that loss is what there is, since time began 

subtracting from your balance. That’s the plan,

too late to quibble now, you’re in too deep.

Just love what you still have, while you still can. 

Don’t count on schemes, it’s far too short a span

from the first sowing till they come to reap.

One way alone to count, since time began:

love something, love it hard, now, while you can. 

In Christ,

Amelie+