Lent in Light of the Pandemic

Here is a repost of my essay, edited by Rev. Kevin.

*Editorial Note: This was taken from my journal with additions and edits to better fit it as an essay*

It’s been about three and a half weeks since Ash Wednesday, and I haven’t really made much effort observing Lent fully besides abstaining from meat. However, in light of COVID-19, I believe that this season is more crucial than ever and it’s time to lean hard on it. Before I state why, it’s important to explain what Lent is.

First, the practices and logistics of Lent. Before I describe Lent, it should be noted that practices and observances differ between denomination and tradition, so I will mainly define Lent based on my practice, which pulls from various traditions; an eclectic Lent if you will. Lent is a 40-day season (technically 44 days if you include Sundays) in the Church’s liturgical calendar, after Epiphany and before Good Friday, this year starting from February 26 to April 9. This season is based on Jesus’ time in the Judean desert for 40 days, where he was hungry, thirsty, tired, isolated, and tempted by the Satan, as a testing of his commitment to his calling as Messiah. Traditionally, Christians engaged in three main activities: fasting, praying, and almsgiving (that is, providing charity to the poor and disadvantaged). In addition to fasting, some Christians abstain from meat, from Monday to Saturday, with Sundays seen as “mini Easter.” Lent encompasses three holy days: Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent), Palm Sunday (last Sunday of Lent), and Maundy Thursday (the day before Good Friday).

Second, the theology and significance of Lent. As with many seasons and practices, Lent is multi-dimensional. However, the main themes that it focuses on are sin and suffering. Throughout his life, Jesus witnessed and experienced pain and suffering: from brutal Roman occupation of his homeland to persecution from the religious elite, from the harsh Judean desert to the famine-stricken lands, from the crushing taxes exacted by the occupiers to his own poverty; from the death of his dear friend Lazarus to his own suffering and death by crucifixion. This was Jesus’ world.

Though some of the suffering he witnessed and experienced were simply the harsh realities of the physical world, he saw many that were caused by the sins of those who afflict them (and even then, Jesus probably viewed the world being held as prisoner and slave of sin). As a general statement, sin and suffering go hand in hand, more or less (I, and Jesus, don’t want to promote a strict causal or an abusive theology; it’s much more nuanced).

As we follow Jesus’ life in the Judean desert, we also follow him in the Judean streets; suffering doesn’t just happen “over there,” it happens here as well. As we witness and experience suffering with Jesus, we recognize that our own hands have caused suffering. Therefore, our journey goes further than Jesus: we lament at the suffering we cause. We acknowledge that we are both victim and perpetrator. Thus, from the Judean streets, we walk on the road to Golgotha. And as we walk there, lamenting and grieving at the state of the world and of humanity, our hands that destroy rather than build, we begin looking for hope, until we find it. To our horror and bewilderment, it is a righteous man, as God, crucified on a cross.

Lent speaks to our times. COVID-19 is one of the scores upon scores of issues in the world. Other issues such as climate change, countless wars, economic inequality, education inequality, and racism still linger during the pandemic; they don’t go away nor stop for anything. Crisis upon crisis. so many dead and so much suffering. We tend to go numb, barraged with news headlines that seem to herald the apocalypse. We also become furious, blaming the “enemy(ies),” perhaps even wishing harm upon them. However, regardless of culpability, it is a season to go beyond it, to truly see the broken mess of our world and state of being, how we all played a part in creating this mess. Few are guilty, but all are responsible.

Our privilege and technology allow us to escape, sidestep, or shorten suffering. We aren’t well-acquainted with it, and we avoid it because it’s unpleasant. Due to this, we don’t know how to suffer well. We become less empathetic and sympathetic to others in need. “Suffering happens to other people, not me,” we claim, until it happens to us.

All of this makes us imbalanced. We are oversupplied with rage and short on humanity. We are oversupplied with numbness and short on compassion. We are oversupplied with despair and short on hope. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Through this season of Lent, we hope to confront and lament the sufferings we experience. We hope to confess our sins to change our heart and ways. We hope to mourn with those who mourn and suffer with those who suffer. We hope to view everyone as dignified humans in need of grace. We hope to be sympathetic to the concerns of God (the divine pathos). We hope that God is walking next to us, in humanity’s pain and suffering. We hope to be the object of his sorrows, care, and compassion.

A harrowing journey it is for the followers of a God who cares about us, and therefore, suffers with us.