Wondrous Loss: The Gift in Contradiction

By Joan Weber

Every year around this time, I begin to think about Lent. With Ash Wednesday upon us, I know that if I don't take time now to make a plan for entering the 40 days with purpose, Lent and Easter will just pass me by. And that would be a waste because Jesus' journey that we enter into during this holy season is so very awesome!

I tried to come up with a new angle on Lent, which is in itself a challenge. This is my 57th experience of the Lenten season, and the theology, events, and themes have not changed. I know I'm still called to pray, fast and give alms. I know the story of the Triduum. But what I don't know is how the Scriptures and the rituals of Lent connect with who I am in 2007. After all, I am the wild card, the changing factor, in this year's experience of Lent and Easter!

Last week I saw a CNN story about a man who was released from prison after spending over 20 years behind bars for a crime that he didn't commit. That was tragic in itself, but what amazed me was the man's attitude. He was not bitter; he didn't focus on regrets or "might-have-been" scenarios. Instead, he talked about the grace in his suffering. His story led me to spend time with a Scripture passage often used during Lent — that of Isaiah's suffering servant.

See, my servant shall prosper, he shall be exalted and lifted up...Just as there were many who were astonished at him — so marred was his appearance, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals. . . He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity . . . he was despised, and we held him of no account. . . But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our inequities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. . . Out of his anguish he shall see light. . . Therefore I will allot him a portion with the great . . . because he poured out himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sins of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
(Isaiah 52:13-14; 53:3, 5, 11-12)

What strikes me today about the released prisoner's and the prophet's words are the contradictions: marred yet exalted, punishment making us whole, healing coming from bruises, light emerging from anguish. No wonder it takes faith to believe — pure logic would say this doesn't make any sense. And yet isn't this the mystery in the Paschal Mystery? What seemed hopeless became the most hopeful event in the history of humankind. Jesus' horrible suffering and death created the possibility of Resurrection.

What does this have to do with me? The contradictions of Lent challenge me to look at life differently. Things that drag me down become opportunities for growth, for fulfillment. Maybe the fight with a loved one can lead to greater sensitivity on my part to that person's needs. Maybe messing up on the project for work will make me work harder the next time. Maybe the bad news from the doctor will make me cherish and savor every precious moment of health. Maybe death does lead to new life.

And so I plan to enter Lent with this attitude: dying to my old self, which includes my sins, irritations, and moods, can truly result in active participation in Jesus' resurrection at Easter. If Jesus' bruises can make me whole, I am limited only by my own doubts and reservations.

In his song Wondrous Loss, Timothy R. Smith echoes the good in the suffering and death of Jesus. He uses the term wondrous loss to describe the good in Good Friday:

At noon our Christ took up his cross that he might show by wondrous loss
The height and depth of love divine; Made perfect now in human time.

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul?
What wondrous love is this, O my soul?

What if, at the end of Lent, we can truly see the wonder in our losses? What if we understand that wondrous loss only makes sense when it is accompanied by God's wondrous love for us? Let us pray.

God of Lent and Easter, I stand in awe of your limitless love. I am humbled but grateful that you gave your Son to me. I look at Jesus who said that nothing, not even death, was too high a price to pay for me, and I am changed. Help me to die to everything which stands in the way of my believing in and responding to that love. Help me to make this Lent a journey to you. Help me to be grateful for Jesus' wondrous loss and your wondrous love. Amen!

Spirit Compass reflections are developed in partnership
with the Center for Ministry Development.