Wellspring Notes

Some Thoughts on Lent from our Benedictine Community

My husband James and I have been oblates of Mount Saint Benedict Monastery since 2002.  Oblate way of life is a blessed life. I plan to write more on this blessed life during Lent as I go deeper in my journey of seeking God.  As we begin this holy season, I invite all to reflect on these words from Joan Chittister, a member of Mount St. Benedict as well as the prioress, Christine Vladimiroff.

"Lent begins with Ash Wednesday. Lent is that season of the church year that is most commonly associated with repentance. But there is a danger lurking in that definition. If repentance is all that Lent is about, the season, if not almost useless, is at least somewhat trivial. It makes spiritual life some kind of arithmetic balancing act. I do my confession for so much human misadventure and payback time is over. The important thing is that I remember to come out even. But Lent is a much greater moment in life than that.

Lent is a call to weep for what we could have been and are not. Lent is the grace to grieve for what we should have done and did not. Lent is the opportunity to change what we ought to change and have not. Lent is about becoming, doing and changing whatever it is that is blocking the fullness of life in us right now. Lent is a summons to live anew.

The first challenge of Lent is to open ourselves to life. When we “rend our hearts” we break them open to things we are refusing for some warped reason to even consider. Lent calls us not to get trapped in the past. Everything in life can begin again, at any time, in every way, if we only permit it.

Lent is a time to let life in again, to rebuild the worlds we have allowed to go sterile, to “fast, weep and mourn” for the goods we have foregone. If our own lives are not to die from lack of nourishment, we must sacrifice the pride and the sloth that blocks us from beginning again.

If Lent is to be real at all, we must recognize that we are on a journey that twists and turns between what we were before and what we are becoming now. There is no settling down. There is only the call of the New Beginning where God dwells in the heart and takes away all our fear, all our loneliness."

Joan Chittister, OSB

"There is a rhythm to life. Lent is an important part of that rhythm in the spiritual life of one who seeks God. Lent is about holding life in perspective. It is a time for fasting to focus our soul. It is a time for silence to sharpen our consciousness. It is a time to depend on God and not our own strength.

Lent is not a sad time but a quiet time. It is a time to go deep within the interior desert of our soul. Lent can put us in touch with our real hunger. It can stir in us the courage to confront what keeps us from following the Christ to Jerusalem. Lent is a time to take back the pieces of our lives that have been given over to what is not of God. Each of us knows what is not right in our life. Lent is a reflective time but not a self-centered time. It is an opportunity for putting back together the world that we have damaged by our actions. We celebrate this season not alone as an individual, but in Christian community. We are conscious that because we have failed in gospel living we choose profit over people by many of our personal, national and international decisions. Let's face it, most sin takes place because we do not love our neighbor nearly as much as we love ourselves.

Can we imagine another kind of world? Can we form a community of love so powerful that it can be the force for the coming reign of God? Can the hope in our hearts drain the despair of the world? What we strive for this Lent, then, is truthfulness with ourselves and with others. We do so with repentance, acknowledging that we have sinned and that our sin causes suffering, and with responsibility to engage in the demands of the gospel.

The struggle with evil in the world begins with the struggle within ourselves. The struggle depends upon self-knowledge, knowing and acknowledging our limitations and our capacities. Such introspection should take place at all times with us, but Lent is that particular time in the church year when we pay attention to that process. As Jesus prepared himself for his ministry by going into the wilderness, we prepare ourselves once again for that ultimate renewal that comes to us and to the earth in Easter.

Christine Vladimiroff, OSB

Advent... A Season of Fasting

Lord, let me make a fast,
from all those things that have filled my belly for so long.
Bloated from excesses, slowed and dulled and numbed in spirit.
Lord, let me make a fast
from those poisons I have called nourishment,
from the poverty I have called wealth,
from that shallowness I have called depth;
from any meagerness I have called abundance.
I am ready to go out with You
to be emptied in whatever desert will be mine.
Lord let me make a fast.

May I fast from speed.
May I drive more slowly.
May I remove these shoes that help me walk quickly,
and with great purpose—
and may my feet contact your earth,
slowly and with great care,
with gentleness and with much respect.
May I walk as your calm presence in this world.
May my voice be lower,slower.
May it be a voice more understood
by those whose ears are failing;
a safer voice that does not make the listener ask again,
a voice that comforts in its tones.
May I be your slow and soothing, still small voice.
May there be breeze where I have passed,
not cyclone, not chaos,
not whirlwind sense of things of great import,
but only the echoing whisper of where you have walked.
Lord, may I fast from speed.

May I fast from busyness.
May I learn to bless my simple being,
and may I come to know that being as the fertile soil
that roots and grounds my doing.
May my days be less full,less likely to implode,
collapsing in on themselves,
a black hole dense with all those tasks,
commitments, things I simply cannot cease to do,
for fear of the world—indeed, the universe—
will cease along with them.
Instead, may there be holes and gaps,
may there be light,
great periods of wicked, wasteful idleness,
that Devil’s workshop transformed as, slowly,
I come to trust that You are there in the quiet,
in the calm, in the vacuum of nothing
planned to do but be alive,
that being quite enough.
Lord,may I fast from busyness.

Lord, may I fast from fear.
May I come out from my hiding.
May I know sun and snow, wind and rain,
feel heat and cold as armor drops to only such protection
as I need, no less, but most assuredly no more.
May I befriend the shadow.
May I coax it out of hiding,
remove its ban of excommunication,
bring it back from exile.
May I embrace that darker side
that I have banished for so long,
beaten down, denied, and may I own it fully.
May I give shadow energy a voice,
and come to know that healing lies in unity,
polarities in tension, but never in denial.
Lord, may I fast from fear.

May fasting time be sacrament,
outward sign, inward Grace;
empty belly,
an open space wherein You might dwell
replacing illusion of fullness.
Lord let me make a fast.

Gloria Carpeneto

Lord, let me make a fast...

Lord, let me make a fast,

From all those things that have filled my belly for so

long.  Bloated from excesses, slowed and dulled and

numbed in spirit.  Lord, let me make a fast from those

Poisons I have called nourishment, from the

Poverty I have called wealth, from that

Shallowness I have called depth, from any

Meagerness I have called abundance.

I am ready to go out with You to be emptied

in whatever desert will be mine.

Lord let me make a fast.

May I fast from speed.

May I drive more slowly.

May I remove these shoes that help me walk

Quickly, and with great purpose—

and may my feet contact your earth,

slowly and with great care,

with gentleness and with much respect.

May I walk as your calm presence in this world.

May my voice be lower, slower.

May it be a voice more understood

by those whose ears are failing;

a safer voice that does not make the listener

ask again, a voice that comforts in its tones.

May I be your slow and soothing, still small voice.

May there be breeze where I have passed,

not cyclone, not chaos, not whirlwind sense of things of great import,

but only the echoing whisper of

where you have walked.  Lord, may I fast from speed.

May I fast from busyness.

May I learn to bless my simple be-ing,

and may I come to know that be-ing

as the fertile soil that roots and grounds

my do-ing.  May my days be less full, less likely to

implode, collapsing in on themselves, a black hole

dense with all those tasks, commitments,

things I simply cannot cease to do, for fear of the world—

indeed, the universe—will cease along with them.

Instead, may there be holes and gaps, may there be

light, great periods of wicked, wasteful idleness, that

Devil’s workshop transformed as, slowly, I come to trust

that You are there in the quiet, in the calm, in the

vacuum of nothing planned to do but be alive, that being

quite enough.  Lord, may I fast from busyness.

Lord, may I fast from fear.

May I come out from my hiding.  May I know sun and

snow, wind and rain, feel heat and cold as armor drops

to only such protection as I need, no less, but most

assuredly no more.  May I befriend the shadow.

May I coax it out of hiding, remove its ban of

excommunication, bring it back from exile.  May I

embrace that darker side that I have banished for so

long, beaten down, denied, and may I own it fully.

May I give shadow energy a voice, and come to know

that healing lies in unity, polarities in tension, but

never in denial.  Lord, may I fast from fear.

May fasting time be sacrament, outward sign, inward

Grace; empty belly, an open space wherein You

Might dwell replacing illusion of fullness.

Lord let me make a fast.

--Gloria Carpeneto