A Reflection for the Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent
“God also said to Abraham:
‘On your part, you and your descendants after you
must keep my covenant throughout the ages’” (Gn 17:9).
I used to feel a little jealous of Abraham when I heard this passage from Genesis. I imagined how I would feel if I heard God, loud and clear, promising me that my family would have a land of our own and a special relationship with God for generations. In our contemporary lives, discerning our vocations is murkier than that. Abraham, at first glance, seems to have it much easier.
But this Lent, the part of this passage that resonates with me most is the very end. After all his grand promises, God reminds Abraham of his end of the bargain: He has to keep the covenant, and so do his descendants. All of a sudden, Abraham’s lot seems less enviable. It’s an important reminder that, while our vocations come with promises of success and fulfillment, we also have to take responsibility for them.
What happens if God reveals his plan for you and…you don’t like it? Or you’re not sure you can handle the responsibility of it? When it comes to a covenant with God, the responsibility is great, and stumbling is likely. (We know that Abraham and his descendants struggled with keeping theirs.)
I had big plans for this Lent. I was ready for it to be a time of quiet prayer that led to big insights and a warm, fuzzy feeling of blissful connection with God.
Instead of blissful connection with God, I felt sadness and confusion as I grappled with the suffering my loved ones were experiencing.
Within the first two weeks of Lent, several of the closest people in my life experienced serious life events, even tragedies. All of a sudden, the time I had allotted for quiet prayer was spent on the phone, listening to a friend cry on the other end. Instead of blissful connection with God, I felt sadness and confusion as I grappled with the suffering my loved ones were experiencing.
When I did have time to reflect, though, it actually seemed like God was communicating with me about a plan for this Lent; it just wasn’t like the one I had envisioned. I had imagined that the task of my Lent might be to hold a conversation between God and me. But it turned out that the task of my Lent was to hold a conversation with my suffering friends—and then to figure out how God was showing up there, too.
I worry all the time that I can’t handle the heaviness of my friends’ suffering, but I am trying to remember that this responsibility is part of a covenant. My end of the bargain is not the only one. It’s freeing to remember that I am in this fight with God, not by myself.
When we worry and stress today, let’s call to mind that we’re in the presence of God. Let that be the reason that we face the day’s challenges with strength.
Some of the Jesuits I know like to begin prayer by saying, “Let’s call to mind that we’re in the presence of God.” When I feel alone, when I feel like the whole world depends on me, I’m forgetting who else is there with me, who knows what I face at every moment.
When we worry and stress today, let’s call to mind that we’re in the presence of God. Let that be the reason that we face the day’s challenges with strength.
Get to know Molly Cahill, assistant editor
What are you giving up for Lent?
I tried this last year and failed pretty miserably, so I am giving it a second shot: I am giving up the snooze button on my alarm clock for Lent. The hope is that I will spend that extra time in the morning in quiet prayer or writing in my journal.
Do you cheat on Sundays?
Not on Sundays, but sometimes my birthday falls at the beginning of Lent. When I was young, my family started a tradition of breaking our Lenten practices on that day, especially if we had given up something sweet that would prevent us from enjoying birthday treats. It stuck! No luck this year, unfortunately, since I had an Ordinary Time birthday in February.
Favorite non-meat recipe
Mushroom risotto! Using vegetable or mushroom stock instead of chicken stock makes this a great meal for Fridays during Lent.
Favorite Lent hymn
“Were You There.” There are many beautiful renditions of this spiritual, but I find this one especially moving.
