It’s been about two months since I’ve written anything that wasn’t a term paper, and if the early returns are any indication, I’ve been doing marginal at those. If nothing else, grad school is one steaming heaping of humble pie after another, a constant reminder that one is never as far along as one might like.
Major Paper #Dos was turned in last week, a paper that I slaved over, obsessed over, lost sleep over. Each paper gets a critique from another member of the seminar, and mine came in today. The results? Good thesis, but lots of minute mistakes. The wave crashes in over the sand castle, taking the dust out to sea again. I stand, observing the remaining bedrooms and entry halls that are now filling up with saltwater and sea urchins, coral reefs and beer coozies.
This is Lent: the gentle cleansing of an edifice. The waves roll in over the front door of the castle, dissolve the front stoop, and drag off the princess in complete silence. Lent begins in a quiet room, with a few words, a couple of songs, and a bucket of ashes placed on a quiet line with quiet feet. Though songs of exultation might be bursting from their chests, it’s no understatement to say that the work of Lent isn’t quite that exotic. The things that you give up might be large, gaudy preparations of the Lord’s coming, but in truth, letting them do their work is another thing altogether.
Our lives are a mixture of stone and sand, and either way, they must come in contact with the water. The sand is brushed away in large chunks, dramatic gestures, in wide sweeps. The stone, if it is good, is polished and refined over a thousand years. But the stone, if it is wrong, forever creates crevices in which the sand hides, solidifying, calcifying, feeding on its hiddenness until one day–it too becomes stone: unbreakable and brave.
Let us let our lives be like sand, malleable and frail, and trust the water to be true, kind, and faithful not to leave us with holes in our walls.
I charged toward Lent this year with all kinds of joy and thunder. It’s been a long two months since Advent concluded, and the ordinary time just drags on and on and on somedays. The intention of “ordinary days” in the church calendar, as opposed to seasons of Lent or Advent is that the ordinary days take on a…well, less spectacular cast. We’re supposed to lean toward the nature and purpose of the world in all days; the seasons of Advent and Lent, however, are the church’s way of giving a little extra nudge in that direction.
I gave up meat.
For about two days. And then, sickness began to descend, and I resorted to whatever I could get, to restore this mortal coil to full strength. I mean, this next week, I’ve got two presentations at a conference and a class presentation: this is no time for the flu. I think I’m going to give up buying all manner of little toys and trinkets: books, music, and the like. After looking at my bank account, that seems to be the more pressing matter in my soul.
These next weeks, this will be the content: Lenten reflections, thoughts on dust and ash and what it means to repent. Here’s to returning to where we came from.
Another gem from the boys at 3CT. I nearly choked on my GrapeNuts.
