Christmas ebbs out and, and Lent ebbs in – so flows the cycle of the liturgical life of the Church. This particular change invigorates me the most, because it unfolds a deeper mystery yet, it becomes very raw and real all of a sudden, and it’s not off-set by sparkly things of secular society.
It is said that, in the scale of divine miracles, what is greater than creation is redemption. It’s a bit like how Easter is greater than Christmas. I used to ponder this a lot, wondering how the one could be greater than the other, if the first is necessary for the second. But I think I have come to understand that if the second is indeed knit into the essence of the first, then creation itself, with all of its jaggedness, may be left to its own devices, if we only had a Creator.
But having a Redeemer is another thing again. It means that, in the Christian sphere of thought, God is not only greater than all things but God is also made small and we might inflict Him a wound. God can be rendered rent by the cut of Creation, and takes that cut out of love. I do not believe there is anything more miraculous and revealing about the divine reality than that utter vulnerability, and anything more compelling for the struggling soul.
We, as Christians, are bound to this thing, this belief that, if all else fails, and even death falls over us, yet we cling onto the belief that indeed God has died. And so, we live. It is that paradox, that antidote, that gives us hope, and lets us see our world cut into a cross. God’s will is no longer separated from God’s own suffering. He “begets” this seed of suffering among us, this seed which will grow into a Passion tree.
We say Christ is a king. Pilate said it too, and mocked, and marveled. We’re all haunted by the contradictory nature of it, and that’s a good thing. We offer our allegiance to a slain king, and we acknowledge a side of God which is brought to nothing. But it is said Christ is our king “by right of conquest”. That conquest tramples down death by death.
This is what makes Christianity what it is. These beliefs are not mere additives we pick up and cast off at will, not superfluous nor unbearable. They are a burden, but in Christ, we bear them, like He bore the cross, because they are, and have always been, signs of contradiction. We are a scandalous people, and the world needs such a scandal to be whole.
So, Lent comes creeping up with the breath of spring, and the sting of frost, and we live these mysteries again, and reaffirm the gifts have been given by this folly of grace, and this expiation of the divine life which we now share in.
Yes. Thak you.