Lent is the time to look into the mirror. It is a season to discover and recognize who we truly are. It is an opportunity to lay aside our garments and ornaments and step into the bathing pool with transparency and simplicity. Fasting, prayer, almsgiving… we have often summarized Lenten observances in such ways. There is nothing wrong with that. Yet something more must be added alongside these: discovering oneself — one’s own failures, limitations, and also one’s possibilities.
Even though Lent is necessarily and undeniably a time to restore our broken relationships with God and with fellow human beings — as an act of repentance for having distanced ourselves from them in various ways — it is not a question we can ignore: how far are we able, in each Lenten season, to truly discover and correct ourselves?
Tradition holds that Christ fasted for forty days and forty nights. We must understand that Christ had no rupture in relationship — neither with God nor with humanity. Rather, he viewed the forty-day fast as an opportunity to be strengthened in spirit.
What took place there was the renewal of Christ’s spirit. Certain withdrawals are part of life’s victories. To begin a new advance, self-knowledge is profoundly important. Solitude and meditation — and at times even rejection, humiliation, and isolation — can become opportunities to discover our inner possibilities. They can become moments to recognize our failures and, if we are willing, to correct them.
As is often said about eagles: for new feathers to grow, they must painfully pluck out the old ones and let them scatter in the wind. To regain a renewed youthfulness, one may need to remain alone on the mountaintops for a time. That is precisely what Lent calls for. Yet often this inner meaning of Lent is forgotten and reduced to certain external practices. That is why Scripture reminds us: “Rend your hearts, not your garments.” Tearing garments is easy. For that very reason, abstaining from certain foods is not all that difficult. But Lenten observances must go far beyond that.
Perhaps we may be able to forgive the wrong done to us by another. But more difficult still is admitting our own fault. For years we have been practicing self-justification. There may indeed be times when we are right; nor do we necessarily wish to assume every blame unnecessarily and wear the garb of martyrdom. Even so, this is a world where it is rare to find people open enough to acknowledge their own mistakes honestly.
Each one of us is a person who has stumbled at various points in life. Perhaps it is only by God’s immeasurable mercy that these have not been exposed. That does not make us faultless. Yet we conceal all that and keep blaming others for our failures.
He was the reason…
She was the reason…
They were the cause…
Our fingers are always pointed at others. We have tasted deeply the comfort and satisfaction of self-justification. We build for ourselves a tent of holiness. Within it, I had many to condemn; I wrote my verdict that they were the cause of my failures and downfall. But sooner or later we must realize: my consent and my own desire were also behind each of my falls. I am responsible for my fall. Not one of my failures — whether in word, deed, or neglect — happened without my knowledge. When I point one finger at another, more fingers are pointed back at me. It is in such discovery that my fault gains its true strength; it becomes most sincere. My fault… my fault… my grievous fault.
Lent must become an opportunity to discover our own failures. Let us step aside from everything for a while. It is like a return journey into the soul — like subjecting our inner organs to a scan; a pilgrimage along the paths we have already traveled in life. We must at least now be willing to undertake it. How many years have we lived on this earth! In that span, what have been my mistakes? My weaknesses? The desires that still pursue me like a hunting dog? The tears others have shed because of me; the ways my words have misled others; the joy I could have given had I spoken a little more gently; the light I could have kindled in another’s life with just a small word; the good that might have reached him had I only lifted a little finger…
How many such opportunities have each of us wasted! When I denied him what was his due, I was in fact stealing his wealth. When I engaged in intimacy without love, it was nothing less than adultery. Such realizations too must dawn upon us.
And finally, one more thing: though we may be able to forgive the wrong another has done to us, often we are unable to forgive ourselves. The first healing must be given to ourselves. How many people around us live burdened with self-condemnation over mistakes that happened long ago! If you cannot forgive yourself, who will forgive you? If you cannot forgive yourself, whom will you be able to forgive? Only when I recognize that I erred because of my weakness can I forgive you for the wrong you did to me out of your weakness.
Take the mirror of Lent and step aside for a little while. In your solitude and meditation, look into that mirror. Pray for the grace to see yourself as you truly are. May your tears make the image in that mirror shine all the more clearly!
