The entire purpose of Lent, now past the halfway mark, is to prepare us for the glory of Easter and its revelation of the destiny that God first intended for humanity “in the beginning” (Gen. 1:1): the destiny that Christ made possible after the Fall through the Paschal Mystery of his Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension. As the Church continues its Lenten journey, perhaps we might ponder three great themes that shape the spiritual rhythms of this noble penitential season.
The first of these might be called the annual catechumenate.
One of the notable accomplishments of the liturgical reform mandated by the Second Vatican Council has been the retrieval of the catechumenate as a distinctive period in the spiritual life, one that includes far more than the “catechumens”—those being baptized at Easter or received into full communion with the Church—“learning the Catechism.” Engaging the truths of Christian faith is crucial, of course, but that study is now complemented by a regimen of prayer, charity, and the gradual incorporation of the catechumens into the Church’s liturgical life through a series of Lenten ceremonies.
This process of “Christian Initiation,” while primarily intended for those who will enter the Church at Easter, has real meaning for the “already initiated,” too. For the already baptized can live Lent as a privileged time to reflect on the meaning of baptism as the moment in which we were incorporated in the body of Christ, the Church, and received from Christ the Great Commission: “Go and make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19). The examination of conscience undertaken during Lent might then focus on these questions: How well, this past year, have I lived the missionary discipleship to which I was called at my baptism? What is the dross in my soul that must be purified if I am to live that commission more fruitfully in the year ahead?
A second great Lenten theme was once described by Pope Benedict XVI in a 2010 homily as “the adventure of God, the greatness of what he has done for us” (my italics). What was that “adventure”? It consists, Benedict said, in the fact that “God did not remain within himself, he came out from himself”—and does so now. The divine adventure begins with Creation, which continues today as God’s sustaining creativity holds everything in being (Col. 1:17). The adventure then intensified as God entered history: first in the revelation of himself to, and his covenants with, the people of Israel; later, and definitively, in the person of the Son, who became incarnate in history and showed himself the Redeemer in the Paschal Mystery; now, in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies the world through the Church.
Lent thus reminds us that salvation history does not consist in humanity’s search for God, but in God’s entrance into history so that humanity may learn to take the same path into the future that God is taking. Salvation history does not run on a parallel track to “world history.” Salvation history is world history read in its deepest dimension and against its proper horizon.
Or to put it another way, we are not alone; history is purposeful and headed somewhere; and that somewhere is not oblivion. Reflecting on how well that biblical optic on reality shapes our daily lives and our efforts as missionary disciples is another point for Lenten reflection.
And third, there is the great Lenten theme of deepening friendship with Christ. In this year of the Sunday liturgical cycle, that theme is most evident in the Sunday Gospel readings. From the story of Jesus and the woman at the well, we learn that discipleship begins with God’s thirst for us. From the episode of Jesus and the man born blind, we are reminded to see our vocation as disciples through eyes opened by our encounters with the Lord. Finally, the raising of Lazarus invites us to deepen our conviction that Jesus is the Son of God, with power to conquer death and raise us from its bonds.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been fifteen years since Lent 2011, when I first began to reflect on these themes while working with Elizabeth Lev and my son Stephen in Rome—an adventure from which came our book, Roman Pilgrimage: The Station Churches. If you’re inclined to dig further into the riches of Lent while experiencing some of the architectural and aesthetic grandeur of Lent in Rome, let me suggest obtaining the book in its Kindle edition, in which all 175 pictures are in glorious color.
George Weigel’s column “The Catholic Difference” is syndicated by the Denver Catholic, the official publication of the Archdiocese of Denver.
