Where to begin.* It's just about halfway through Lent. My intention was to post quite frequently as I fasted and added different things to my life during lent, Lenten Life. For the third year, Jon and I are giving up sweets. After pancake day I gave our friend Danny our half used bottle of Nutella. Jon gives up sweets because I do. He also gave up video games and anything video game related and added reading through the Bible. I was meant to add reflecting in the form of journaling and letter writing and possibly blogging. Instead I have added 30 Rock Season 1 and fasted from research for my class. Bah. Not the Lent I had planned. One thing we're trying is the breaking of the fast on Sundays. Until now I have felt like this is cheating. I don't think good Catholics do it. But our pastor seemed to be promoting it, so we've been taking full advantage. I made devil's food cupcakes with ganache two weeks ago and a key lime pie this past Sunday. As well as giving me a chance to expand my baking knowledge, the Sunday break is also a tangible celebration of the Resurrection and a superficial piece of hope during the week. "This week's been hard, but Sunday's coming."
One thought I can't dislodge regarding Lent came to me while reading about the Passion week in the Gospels. I imagine Gethsemane was a private and familiar place of prayer for Jesus and his followers. This is where they gathered on his last night. It was here where Judas planted a kiss, a signal, on Jesus' cheek. From this place the ordeal began as they led Jesus away. I imagine a disciple coming back to that place after everything had gone down. Even after the resurrection, I imagine him walking in that place without being able to shake the violation it had undergone. Their private place of prayer was intruded and their leader seized. Gethsemane violated. I can't shake that sense of violated space. I don't think the resurrection could quite erase it for them. It's not about the safety of the place, but more the sense of relationship tied to the grove. When the crowd came to seize Jesus they took away the disciples' control over how they experienced that place. And I think for me it is less about application or relating it to my life, but more about sitting with the disciples and Jesus in that place and in those emotions. That a place is wrapped up in so much more than geographic location or function. But it carries with it experiences and emotions and relationships.
A couple weeks ago I finished a paper on the theme of rest in Psalm 95. It was by far more interesting that I had intended. The promised land is wrapped up in more than a deed to the land of Canaan. It carried with it the expectation and promise of the presence of God, the security from enemies, the end of slavery and captivity. And the land is synonymous with rest. For God to give the Israelites land meant a whole full life in the presence of God. And it got me thinking about working on a theology for refugees, those who must flee their land for matters beyond their control. Knowing the promises for rest and how closely they are tied to God giving the people their own land, what should the Christian community think about refugees. How should we interact with them and act on their behalf.
It got me thinking, which is what I need during this Lenten season. I'm moving quickly toward graduation and freedom from academia. I'll eventually need to figure out how I'm going to use these degrees. In the meantime you are invited over on Sundays for dessert.
*The photo is not meant to be overly emo. I had just returned from my first Ash Wednesday service where the inexperienced ash dabber made more of a unibrow than a cross on my forehead. In any case, you're not supposed to smile while wearing black and ashes and so I didn't.
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