I asked the good Jesus that we may partake of Lent as and with him: these forty days in the desert, given by him solely to contemplation. What could be the activity of the Gifts of the Holy Spirit in his most holy soul, in this human rest, in this solitude? Our Lent will not be dedicated solely to contemplation, nor to solitude, nor to rest, except in the depths of our soul, which I ask Jesus to conform to his own as it was during these forty days. — Raïssa Maritain
If our Lent cannot or will not be given over entirely to contemplation and prayer, like that of Jesus in the desert, what will it be given over to? The whole business of being contemplative on the roads, contemplative in the city, contemplative in the mud, is that it is only in the depths of the soul that solitude and rest can reign supreme; elsewhere, it is something that is carried with us, while we contemplate Christ in our neighbours and contemplate the Creator in gratitude as we gaze on his creation.
Exploration of contemplation of Christ in our neighbour
Pope Francis’ message for Lent 2024 provides a sure guidepost here. It speaks of “the contemplative dimension of Lent” and points us toward what must be the presence of God in our neighbours, especially those who are wounded or in need:
It is time to act, and in Lent, to act also means to pause. To pause in prayer, in order to receive the word of God, to pause like the Samaritan in the presence of a wounded brother or sister. Love of God and love of neighbour are one love. Not to have other gods is to pause in the presence of God beside the flesh of our neighbour. For this reason, prayer, almsgiving and fasting are not three unrelated acts, but a single movement of openness and self-emptying, in which we cast out the idols that weigh us down, the attachments that imprison us. Then the atrophied and isolated heart will revive. Slow down, then, and pause! The contemplative dimension of life that Lent helps us to rediscover will release new energies. In the presence of God, we become brothers and sisters, more sensitive to one another: in place of threats and enemies, we discover companions and fellow travelers. This is God’s dream, the promised land to which we journey…
Bearing in mind this exhortatory message from the Holy Father, I plan to put in some special work on posts that discuss the contemplation of Christ in our neighbour. Pope Francis himself, Thérèse of Lisieux, and Marcel Văn are on my radar in this respect.
Exploration of the connection between contemplation and beauty
If Lent is in itself a contemplative season, then I will also take a step further back from the specific form of contemplation of Christ in our neighbours, and ask questions about Christian contemplation in general. What I have to say might come as a surprise, because I’ve been holding back.
I think I’ve been pretty clear that Pope Francis associates aesthetic experience (experience of beauty) with contemplative experience. Christian contemplation is just, for him, contemplation of a beauty experienced in grace. What I haven’t said yet is that, while the Holy Father seems to have charted his own course here by bringing together threads that are rarely woven into a seamless whole in the Catholic tradition, I know someone else who did the same thing. And you know him, too, if you know anything about this blog.
His name is Marcel Văn. Long before Pope Francis had the clear-sightedness to connect aesthetic and contemplative experience, that precocious intellect possessed by little Văn did the same. This Lent, I’m going to explore his experiential theology of beauty and contemplation. There should be a solid four posts on this topic. I have been looking forward to making this a Lenten exploration for quite some time.
A Laudato Si’ Lent
In addition to focusing us on contemplation, this year’s papal message for Lent also goes on to mention “the ways we acquire goods” and “care for creation” alongside the need “to include those who go unseen or are looked down upon.” If we take the latter group to include Indigenous peoples, all three of these are themes of the Church’s teaching on care for our common come: Laudato Si’, Querida Amazonia, Laudate Deum, and the papal teachings offered each Season of Creation (September 1st to October 4th).
The connections of Laudato Si’ to Lent, with its interest in fasting and almsgiving, should not be hard to discern. They are countless. I would especially recall some recent words of Pope Francis at a Wednesday audience:
If we interpret it from a social point of view, gluttony is perhaps the most dangerous vice that is killing the planet. Because the sin of those who succumb before a piece of cake, all things considered, does not cause great damage, but the voracity with which we have been plundering the goods of the planet for some centuries now is compromising the future of all. We have grabbed everything in order to become the masters of all things, whereas everything had been consigned to us for us to protect, not for us to exploit… We have abjured the name of men, to assume another: “consumers”… We were made in order to be “Eucharistic” men and women, capable of giving thanks, discreet in the use of the land, and instead the danger is that we turn into predators… Let us ask the Lord to help us on the road to sobriety, so that the many forms of gluttony do not take over our life.
These are strong words, and I will issue invitations to take them seriously. I have plenty of material, particularly in the form of quotes, ready for this. In a sense, I’m going to make Lent into a partial “Season of Creation 2.0,” at least for this year. The same focus on the eighth work of mercy is going to take over: grateful contemplation of God’s creation, which leads to action for the sake of our common home. I’ve altered the colour scheme to green and earth tones again, as in the Season of Creation proper, to reflect this (partial) dedication.
In my private reading, I will also take on this Laudato Si’ theme by starting a book by Indigenous Christian author Randy Woodley, called Becoming Rooted. It’s one hundred daily meditations from a Christian and Indigenous perspective on creation, our home, Mother and Sister Earth. Obviously this will take me out of Lent and through Easter. But I want to start it in Lent as a matter of principle and priority. It’s a Laudato Si’ Lent.
So that’s it! “[My] Lent will not be dedicated solely to contemplation, nor to solitude, nor to rest, except in the depths of our soul,” yet it will be dedicated to contemplation—on the roads, in the city, in the mud.
What will your Lent be dedicated to?
Contemplative in the Mud 