My unique journey through Lent

My Lenten commitments for the last several years have been nothing to write home about. I commit to something or other, and when I arrive at the Triduum and reflect back on what I've learned or how I've changed, I have precious little to show for it. I'm disappointed in myself, but life goes on, eh?

Usually, it's a behavioral thing I try to change, but those are resistant to change; they're habits - they're who we are. Despite this, I decided this Lent to try to be less judgmental and friendlier toward everyone, especially strangers.

I had a weight loss goal, on which I've failed so miserably that I've actually gained weight, although I have a specific plan after Lent that may produce some results.

And, practically or, say, liturgically speaking, I decided to attend daily Mass, and to go on retreat, which I went on yesterday. It helps to have a flexible job schedule to do this. I know I'm very fortunate in that regard.

Interestingly, though, I've realized through thinking about it at Mass, and particularly at yesterday's retreat, that I've been extraordinarily lucky in my life. But luck comes and goes, doesn't it?

As I think about it, maybe a better word is blessed. Now, on a daily basis, I see the world and my role in it through a secular prism. My behavior is guided far more by secular humanism, a very fine thing, than it is by a relationship with the Holy Trinity. I mean, that's difficult even to understand, to grasp. Given that, how do you develop a relationship with it?

Well, it's begun. I don't really understand it, and I'm a bit put off by it. I have no idea where it will end, but I've decided to run with it for a bit. We'll just let it play out, by further practice at what I've begun to do.

I was sitting in Mass yesterday after the retreat that immersed me among about 40 like-minded folk for several hours, and I sang and listened to a hymn whose lyrics I didn't recall ever seeing, although the melody was familiar, and very pretty.

As we sang each verse, I thought, Dear God, He's speaking to me! Note the capital letter "H." Yes, that He.

It was at once alarming and affecting, but I realize more each day that it's part of a journey in which we puzzle over what it means. Some of it we spend in isolation; some of it we share with others.

Today, I share with you the second verse of the "Covenant Hymn," which got to me so powerfully in Mass yesterday:

Whatever you dream, I am with you, When stars call your name in the night.

Though shadows and mist cloud the future, Together we bear there a light.

Like Abraham and Sarah we stand, With only a promise in hand.

But lead where you dream: I will follow. To dream with you is my delight.

Have a great day.