Lent is coming

It's Ash Wednesday on February 14th. Next week! Once again the annual give-upfest comes around. Need to eat less. Do more exercise. Reduce caffeine. Refuse chocolate. Prohibit clicking the Amazon shopping basket. Stop cheating in speed limits. Walk more and drive less. Keep tabs on food waste. Keep tabs on my own waist. Detox from the Internet.  I've just written a Lenten Decalogue. Ten new commandments to make life, me, the world, a little more this, a little less that.

I'm not going to try to keep any of them. Each one is valid, valuable and salutary. These I should be doing whether it's Lent or not. The fact I can so easily compile such a personally relevant checklist of virtues or their absence is evidence enough of my need for improvement. 

And yet. Somehow this year I feel less interested in pulling out a few weeds, and more interested in replenishing the soil. Not so much interested in dealing with this or that bad habit, more challenged by the issue of the kind of person whose habits they are.

Which brings me to Jesus. Matthew 12:35-37 tends not to be among the more comforting words Jesus ever spoke.  My guess is we interpret them as hyperbole, a good natured warning phrased strongly for rhetorical effect. That is a category mistake. These words are spoken with an exacting exactness —Jesus means what he says. Seriously, Jesus is being serious.

 A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.

So this Lent I am giving up words. Well at least giving up, so far as prayerfulness and carefulness allow, empty words.

As a Lenten discipline, what might it look like to cultivate a stewardship of words, develop a discipline of language, practice a care for speech as therapeutic? And perhaps above all, a recovery of the eloquence of silence, out of which come our deepest thoughts and those words that have a lasting worth and legacy in the enriched lives of others. 

Grace and peace, 

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation