Lent is a time to ask yourself what you really need to make time meaningful. Traditionally Lent is about reconciliation and repentance, which can feel negative and depressing particularly when we have been through so much in the last three years. The pandemic, the conflict between Russia and Ukraine and more recently the unbelievable toll of the earthquake in Turkiye and Syria, which has already been shattered by the ongoing multi-sided civil war. Humanity has been left feeling as if they have been overtaken by grief, physical distancing, polarisation and emerging into a world very different from the one left behind.

From our loungeroom chairs the conflict between Russia and Ukraine has grown and signs of the devastation of lives and infrastructure concreted the severity of what had happened is in our minds.  We witnessed ever-increasing numbers of displaced victims seeking refuge in countries already bursting at the seams from previous acts of charity and welcome.  We began to feel the impact of the war in the rising costs of placing meals on the table, the doubling of energy costs, the realisation throughout the world that the end result may not support the common interest of all and that lives can be shattered even more as relationships are fraught with distrust, greed and power-mongering.

My thoughts turn to another time, two millennia ago when a man sought justice.  Jesus did not initiate war and violence but shouted out for peace, he favoured the underdog and healed those who were hurt. He told us that the greatest commandment is love.  We have all heard of him, but how well do we know him? How are we rising up to His expectations?  He encouraged all to move past their inadequacies and weaknesses, to open their hearts and care for the other.  How are we going to move out of our lounge chairs and rise from the ashes of Lent?

When you look to how these nations are acting, we see Ukranians praying in the streets and in bombed buildings that are now sanctuaries.  We see a courageous leader fighting beside his people.  We see a strength and tenacity that is inspiring in the face of hardship. Those who have lost loved ones and all they owned in Turkiye have mustered courage to grieve for what is lost and to place hope in a new future. The people in Syria building a life in the rubble that is peppered with the fall-out of continued conflict, continue to dig deep for courage and hope in the future.  And the world, dispirited by the effects of the pandemic rising out of the ashes, believing, and loving itself into newness.   

Through our own experiences, have been affected by a multitude of events in the last three years.  What can we do to jolt us out of our reverie? How will we contribute to the creation of beauty and hope in the midst of the ashes in this Lent of 2023?  This is not a time to point the finger, but time to open our arms in embrace so we may all rediscover the joy of being loved.