Lenten inspirations

For four years in a row, I am commemorating Lent, a special season of grace, far away from home.

For most cultures in the northern hemisphere, this time of the year is also a sacred season signaled by the Spring Equinox, a period of renewal. For us Catholic Christians, it’s a time of reflection, recollection and renewal draped with traditions of almsgiving, prayer and fasting.

On Ash Wednesday at Sacred Heart Cathedral, the seat of the Archdiocese of Suva, we attended the 6:30 a.m. mass, at which we thought attendance would be less. We underestimated the locals’ piety and were amazed to see the streets on both sides of the church lined with vehicles. The festive cathedral was overflowing with mass goers donning their Sunday best or bula attire, in hues of violet (the color of Lent) or pastel shades. A gracious elderly woman accompanied by two young schoolboys invited us to join them in their pew, which thankfully had vacant spaces.

Settled almost incognito at the edge of the front pew was the First Couple of Fiji, both Catholics who, like the rest of the congregation, had the customary ash crossed on their foreheads as a reminder to “remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return.” On that solemn morning, the only distinguishing presence of VIPs were two security details seated behind them.

Parishioners respected their space; except for a slight nod from those who pass by them. People did not crowd around their President and First Lady after mass, nor did the couple linger and mingle as what is habitual in our society. They left silently. As I observe and study more about Fiji, I read that silence, as embedded in the Fijian consciousness, is symbolic of their culture, a mark of respect particularly in communal settings.

At the core of Lent is prayer, mass being the most sublime. I delight in how a gift it is for me to have attended weekday liturgies presided by Fr. Arthur Leger, SJ who mentioned in one of his masses, he is the only Jesuit in the South Pacific. Currently assigned in Vietnam to teach English, Fr. Arthur, a Fijian, said Jesuits take their vows at heart; he obeyed without qualms when told to go to Vietnam to teach and minister. He lauded the vibrancy of the Catholic church there as evidenced by the growing number of daily and Sunday churchgoers.

He recounted how, from the comforts of sleeping on a thin mattress, he now sleeps on a mat and how a piece of chicken leg is apportioned among a dozen or so priests. As Fr. Leger spoke of their austere subsistence, his voice echoed with contentment, his face illumined with serenity.

It’s the same tranquil countenance of Trappist monks I witnessed (the prominent fashion designer turned monk, Gang Gomez, being one of them) when I attended Divine Mercy Sunday mass at the Monastery of Transfiguration in Malaybalay, Bukidnon years back. It’s the same contagious gladness of the merry Poor Clare nuns when we visited them at their humble abbey in Lamma Island, Hong Kong three months ago. Their example of life of simplicity and altruism makes me shrink in embarrassment when I think of the things I fast from during Lent. Their holy-like exuberance is that of “surprised by joy,” to borrow the title of C.S. Lewis’ memoir, which chronicles his conversion from atheism to Christianity. Lewis, a voracious reader since he was a child, narrated how stories and poetry, among others, influenced his conversion.

Books are indeed delightful life companions, which is why it has become my Lenten tradition to read books that help me deepen my personal relationship with God. I re-read “Trusting God in the Present” and had finished reading “Searching for and Maintaining Peace, A Small Treatise on Peace of Heart.” These practical guides for spiritual direction, meant to be read constantly, are written by Fr. Jacques Philippe, a member of the Community of Beatitudes in France who works for “the development of their community in Asia and Oceania.”

In five condensed chapters, “Trusting…” is replete with reflections on how to endure trials and our attitude towards trials, assuring the reader that even in “the most negative and most desperate, God is present.” Fr. Jacques explores about the human tendency to know, understand situations and seek answers, yet there are also times when “we are called to believe even if we don’t understand.” He writes about how forgiveness “can also be the one of the greatest acts of freedom,” as it allows us to love even those who had done us wrong, thus ultimately making it an act of love and charity. It doesn’t sound easy, humanly speaking, so I remember what Fr. Philippe suggests: “It isn’t knowledge that saves; it’s faith and trust.”

“Searching…” offers consolation at a time when the author suggests, “an extraordinary amount of agitation and lack of peace” exists. We are in these uncertain times. Anchored on passages from Scriptures, it serves as a handy manual on how to attain interior peace; “how to react to that which causes us to lose peace” and what saints tell us (about peace). It’s a book which I hope leaders and decision makers would read and refer to.

Fr. Jacques intimates that in decision making, it is imperative “to see the situation clearly and not to decide precipitously or arbitrarily.” He counsels to consider one’s “motivations in order to decide with a pure heart and not in the effort to serve our personal interest.” In these situations, prayer and advice of people who can enlighten play a role.

What I am finding most helpful are sensible pointers on how we could maintain peace, such as doing our tasks well and cheerfully in the present moment, avoiding excessive hurry, being patient towards others and speaking gently and peacefully. These are attainable not only in Lent but in situations of everyday life.