Firstly, do you remember the two dicta used during the Imposition of Ashes?
1. “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return”.
2. “Repent and believe in the Gospel”.
In keeping with the established etiquette, we appear to have ditched the former in favour of the latter. The exhortation to “repent and believe” surely sounds less pessimistic and more promising as it matches a culture which leans heavily on optimism. In other words, we have been socialised into a kind of thinking that is more optimistic rather than hopeful.[1]
The timely appearance of Nicodemus might give us a chance to explore further the idea of conversion and a second look into our Lenten practices and their places in this journey of hope.
Last week, I pointed out that God’s proximity is our salvation and that there is a cohesiveness between the Creator and His creatures that sees both reaching out for each other. But it is never an exchange between two equals because humanity’s enthusiasm can never match God’s steadfast quest for humanity.
Look at the 1st Reading. Israel’s constant infidelity has only been met by God’s covenantal faithfulness as, in this instant, He overturned their exile. In other words, God was tenacious despite Israel’s rebuff. He sent prophet after prophet and finally, through the human instrument of King Cyrus, God allowed Israel to return to her homeland.
When it comes to God, punishment is never retaliatory. His justice is never punitive even though the descriptions sound vindictive. Instead, rehabilitation belong to God’s merciful ways. He is ever so gracious towards sinners as we are reminded in the 2nd Reading. God reaches out to us even though we falter in our fervour for Him.
It is in the Gospel that we get to the heart of a love that leapt from the infinite to the finite. God gave us His Son in order to save us. Soon, we shall fathom the breadth of that sacrificial love but for now, the premise for this penetrating insight has come from our most unexpected source—one considered despicable—a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin.
True to his description, Nicodemus, in darkness, came to consort with Jesus. Later, there will be two other occasions for Nicodemus to make his appearances. In this first meeting, we decipher the depth of man’s desire for Truth. Interestingly, the darkness merely confirms this existential reality because no matter how lost we are in the labyrinthine maze of our condemned state, the thirst for Truth cannot be doused. While we search for the Truth that saves, it is an indubitable fact that we often look for It in the wrong places.
Nearness to the Truth has a liberating effect as we shall see in the 2nd appearance of Nicodemus. Having encountered the Light, he now stands on the side of justice fighting to give Jesus a fair chance because the Sanhedrin, as a body, had no qualms executing Jesus without a trial. Nicodemus’ final appearance came after the Crucifixion. Touched by the Truth, he became a man of compassion. So, assisting Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus provided the embalming spices for the proper burial of Jesus—his actions are proof of a heart set free by the Truth and it becomes for each one of us, a hopeful journey because God is not finished with us yet.
And so, we rejoice for we have established that God is always faithful. His fidelity is the basis for our virtue of hope. Sadly, in some ways, our present optimism blinds us from looking at things as they are.[2] In a sense, the first dictum “Remember you are dust” is not to scare the “Bejaysus” out of us despite its somewhat “infernal” inference. The ash on the forehead with the atomic reference to our “dustiness” is a meaningful memento that prevents us from being “overly optimistic”. It is an aid to remember that we have a supernatural destiny that requires cooperation on our part. As such Nicodemus’ search for the Truth not only makes him a model of hope for us but also sheds light on the different practices we engage in during Lent.
In our Lenten practices especially around the areas of fasting and abstinence, self-restraint is not the sole objective even though Aristotle was supposed to have said “I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self”. We do not engage in these exercises for themselves as if there were a prize at the end. We know that both the acts of fasting from nourishment and abstinence from meat are good because they develop the muscles of self-control.
The moderations of self-discipline do have spiritual and social consequences. But the end or the goal is not self-control but rather the freedom that comes with the encounter with Christ, as Nicodemus showed us. In other words, our spiritual exercises are to train the heart to follow the Lord more faithfully. Hence, the freedom from greed, in Christ, is transformed into a freedom for generosity. Look at Nicodemus. It was he who provided the embalming spices for Christ’s burial. Also, earlier, after his encounter with the light of Christ, he was freed from cowardice to be free for courage. He stood against the Sanhedrin’s arbitrary definition of justice without a trial.
This is a good time to check for fruits. Have our Lenten practices made us more patient in bearing ours and others’ Crosses? Are we more ready to help others or are we more selfish, irritable and impatient? Recall that our spiritual exercises are not engaged for themselves but must help us gain a greater interior freedom to follow the Lord because the pace in the coming weeks will quicken as the forces against Jesus will coalesce. Finally, “Laetare” is joy for two reasons. Firstly, love. Through Nicodemus, we come to know the love that does not count the cost of sacrifice. Secondly, hope. We discover this love as the illumination for those who are seeking to leave the darkness of sin so as to live in the light of Truth. “Laetare” joy is also a stop before the climb. We take a breath as we search for the Nicodemus in us so that we can reach out for the light, gain our inner freedom so as to follow Christ faithfully in this journey of our salvation.
[1] In normal conversations, we use hope and optimism interchangeably. But the former is a theological virtue whilst the latter is not. Optimism can be said to be an illusion that life’s journey ahead is simply a progression of improvement. That means, we can only get better in the future. On the other hand, hope describes an encounter with Jesus Christ. It is a theological virtue on account of our experience of God’s nearness, that neither blinds us to the immensity of our difficulties nor gives in to the despair of the future, no matter what. As Pope Benedict says, “One who has hope lives differently”.
[2] The prolonged pandemic has definitely thrown a spanner into our works. I suppose we all (namely, our economic czars, the industrial complex for production and consumption and the travel trade etc) are just waiting to return back to a normality that is markedly “consumptive” without a corresponding stop to think of the true meaning of life. Is there more to life than a series of consumption?
