My Lenten practice this year is to notice what questions arise in the dark, either in my dreams or wakeful times. Sleep seems to filter out the trivia, and I discover what my real questions are. Some arise from worries, of course. Others involve long-forgotten incidents, odd dream encounters, and shards of conversation that I discounted at the time. Nearby examples of death and diminishment are also asking for more attention.
Nicodemus has been my guide.* He came to Jesus with his questions under the cover of darkness, eager (it seems) to avoid criticism (or worse) from other prominent Pharisees. He begins the conversation by acknowledging Jesus as a special envoy of God. Jesus meets him where he is, apparently on the cusp of a spiritual break-through. But Nicodemus pulls back into literal problem-solving, even though Jesus invites him into the spiritual realm with a common experience: the wind blows where it will and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.
Like Nicodemus, I often stay at the level of problem-solving, missing the breeze of the spirit. I wrestle with my dilemma, tugging and pulling at a problem while I fume about losing sleep. But every year, the season of Lent is an invitation to enter the realm of God through this portal of wilderness time, equivalent to Jesus’ forty days in the desert. I know the temptations and want to feel those deeper questions rise.
This year, I am awed by the courage of ordinary Ukrainians, living without light or heat in the winter darkness of war. My worries melt away into prayers for them and for us, that we will find a way to listen, learn, and act for justice and peace — wherever we are — in this Lenten season.
- What questions arise in your night-time waking?
- Is there a Lenten practice you need to add?
- Something you need to drop or eliminate?
–Marjory Zoet Bankson, Editor of InwardOutward.org
