A House Cleaning Of The Heart
Lent, which begins this week with Ash Wednesday, is my favorite liturgical season. That might seem strange because Lent is often described as a penitential time. It is much more.
I love the sensualness of the Ash Wednesday ritual that marks the start of Lent — the soft spread of flecks of ashes on the forehead, reminding us that our time on this earth is finite, we need to refocus on what’s truly important.
This year, Lent coincides with the start of Spring. It is a fortuitous coincidence since at the heart of Lent is a call for renewal. We are nearly a quarter of the way into the year. It’s a good time to examine our inner landscape. What do we need to weed out? What do we need to cultivate?
The Japanese have a wonderful tradition called osohji, which refers to a year-end thorough cleaning and decluttering of homes offices and public spaces as a kind of purification ceremony. Lent is like an osohji, a house-cleaning of the heart. What parts of myself must I look into more deeply? What needs cleansing in my heart?
The chaos and conflicts enveloping our country (and our world) right now call for tending the heart. So many of our long-held and cherished beliefs about citizenship, truth, justice and compassion are being tested. Perhaps, like me, you are filled with anxiety.
Each week, I pray that we have seen the worst, that the current state of affairs will improve. Then there is a scene like the one in which the President of the United States — angry, bloated, red-faced — shouted at the leader of a country that has been our ally for decades as news cameras rolled. It reminded me of advice a priest often gives to newly married couples: the first one who yells loses the argument.
No, perhaps we have not reached the nadir. And for that I feel despondent.
Fortunately, the three pillars of Lent — fasting, almsgiving and prayer — offer us a way of coping and persevering. These practices are perhaps even more needed this Lent than in many recent years.
By fasting, we show solidarity with those who are suffering. This year, it can be a way of aligning ourselves with the thousands of people who have lost their homes and are suffering famine in areas of conflict. There is another kind of fasting as well. We can fast from complaining, from gossiping, from too much news-watching or social media.
In today’s troubled world, there are plentiful opportunities for almsgiving. Selecting even one or two causes to support can move our national dial toward greater compassion. I recently donated to Doctors Without Borders; Catholic Relief Services; the National Immigration Project; The Catholic Worker; and Home Sweet Home Ministries, which feeds and houses the homeless in my local community.
Just as importantly, we “pray, pray, pray” as Dorothy Day once put it, trusting that God “will do the rest.”
Daily Mass will continue to be part of my prayer practice. I’ve also decided to focus on another form of prayer. That is, to look carefully into the faces of the people I encounter — most especially the faces of those with whom I might vehemently disagree. Behind each face is likely an important story.
I recently discovered an old notebook in which I’d written these words during a retreat: “Be a blessing to everyone you meet.” That just might be the greatest prayer I can offer up this Lent.
What are your prayers, your intentions for fasting and almsgiving this Lent? How can you make it a transformative time? How might our efforts help heal our country, our world?
