Today’s liturgy begins with a call for acknowledgement of the ways we are broken. Grief is a doorway through which we learn from our pain, rather than run away from or avoid it. When interfacing with our grief, we enter into a collective of humans who also share our sufferings, which taps us into the essence of compassion more wholly.

Our first reading’s call to gather in community is to lament that we don’t know how to relate to our neighbors anymore. As technology has overshadowed tangible communal care, memes making comedy out of social anxiety are the extent of what we share with each other. To gather the elders is to lament that elder erasure has also become normalized, as we segment those wisdom holders to the corners of nursing homes, as far from our sight as we can send them. To gather the children is to lament that we have failed to protect them from the harms of predatory capitalism, and that their lives are now ruled by phones and ideologies that keep them disconnected from their bodies and the natural world.

And so it goes. We are asked to gather in front of God to weep for all of the ways we are broken, which are equally unique for each one of us as they are similar for us all. In this way we are also called to lament our allegiance to remaining separate, perpetuating the lateral violence that keeps us from coming together, which only persists our brokenness as a collective.

Our psalm asks us to be honest with ourselves about the ways we continue cycles of harm, and to commit to experiencing more just ways of living. There are a myriad of ways that through accepting what we are told about how the world works, we continue our participation in the oppression of ourselves and those around us. We are quick to cast shade on others, especially neighbors, close friends and family members. We are vigilant in dumping those who don’t agree with our world view from our lives, and are even faster in becoming our own persecutor, each time we treat ourselves in shaming or belittling ways.

Both the second reading and today’s gospel reading ask us to cease the ways of existing that have become so rampant in our culture, which are especially apparent on social media. We are so encouraged to stay in people-pleasing patterns for fear of social ostracization, that we are enboldened in how we throw others on the pyre of moralism so that we can stay afloat. Many folks who claim to be leftists are more similar than different to the Christian right, who lead with pride to assert their power over others who hold differing perspectives about the world. We are called in by Christ to stop attempting to gain affirmation from other broken humans, and to commit to intimacy with the God that lives in our hearts to stay focused on what matters most. In her book The Body of God, theologian Sallie McFague discusses the necessity of staying clear and committed to our own path for making the world a better place. McFague writes:

“One of the ways to deal with ecological despair, the despair we feel when we think about the future we are willing to the next generation, is to refuse the role of victim, to become active, to participate in the vocation of the planetary agenda. In different ways each of us has a calling, is being summoned, to put our talents, passion, and insights into planetary well-being. Ecology is not an extracurricular activity, it must be the focus of one’s work, the central hours of one’s day, however that is spent” (8).

McFague’s words direct us to the reality that we can’t make the world a better place by spending all of our time striving to win social rewards or crucifying others. We are invited to stay focused on the work we are uniquely called to, and discard all that keeps us disconnected from our path as followers of Christ, who is constantly pleading with us through the gospel to love our neighbors as ourselves, and to follow love above anything else.

To locate ourselves on the cycle of life and death and ride its waves from season to season, we
must first focus on our own embodiment, which is an act that Christians have rarely been invited
to do overtly. We must act as if our bodies matter, and change the ways we live in avoidance of
that reality.

As we illuminate and immerse ourselves in our bodies as sacred temples where God’s wisdom
can be found, we can connect with our bodies as centers of truth. From our truth we can focus
on what matters most, avoid distraction, and positively contribute to our communal ecology.
This Lent, consider journaling with the following questions adapted from Audre Lorde’s essay

“The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action,” found in her collection of essays

called Sister Outsider, as a prompt:

• What are the words you do not yet have?
• What do you need to say?
• What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own,

until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence?

As you learn to speak your truth first to yourself, you can branch out and do so more easily in
the world around you. Rather than convincing others of what you know to be true in your heart,
this exercise is a means to get clearer on your own truth and path for living God out in your life,
and to find community that will also support your vision to unfold.

In ending cycles of oppression for ourselves and our communities, we have to get real about the ways we perpetuate harm. Christ is asking us to stop worshipping the idols of control and to get clear in our minds and hearts about how we can do our part to make the world a better place at a time that it is so desperately needed. Rest in particular is a mode of living that seems very out of reach for so many of us. We have been led to believe that productivity is how we gain social recognition and power. Exhaustion is often a badge we wear proudly, showcasing our martyrdom and highlighting our worth within a capitalist system that is fundamentally against life, which requires rest in order to thrive. Led by Trisha Hersey, The Nap Ministry is an organization that examines the liberating power of naps. By naming sleep deprivation and exhaustion as a racial and social justice issue, the Nap Ministry centers rest as a form of resistance. Encouraging each person to examine how their lives are shaped by cycles of productivity and capitalistic control, The Nap Ministry utilizes multiple creative outlets including writing, music, poetry, meditation, and collective dreaming to direct tired bodies and minds toward self-care, nourishment and healing. Trisha Hersey has been a hugely inspirational person for me in deconstructing cycles of exhaustion in my own life. To begin, I suggest listening to her speak on a podcast, and letting her inspiration move you from there.