Denver Catholic

15 DENVER CATHOLIC | MARCH 7-13, 2015 T here seems to be a pervading sense of anxiety on my college's campus as Lent approaches each year. We are often called a student body of "over-achievers." Some of us spend Friday nights reading Aristotle and Augustine for example. Our athletic teams train hard. At lunch, we debate about predestination and the best modes of literary criticism. There always seem to be papers in need of revision, guest lectures to attend, more books awaiting our analysis. Beyond that, we impose pressure on ourselves to be perpetually seeking new friend- ships, becoming involved in more clubs and societies, and taking on new roles of leadership and service. None of these activities or desires are bad. They all seem, in fact, quite good. But when overdone, when done for the sake of gaining a name for ourselves, they can simply fuel our egoism, orienting us less toward other people and less toward God. With this attitude of performance, we grow anxious about Lent because we want to know what we should give up, what new sacrifi ces we should take on. We want to know so zealously how God desires us to grow and what he is inviting us to do. Lent—an extraordi- nary pilgrimage through the desert—can quickly become a brisk walk through a busy and over-populated city. Partly driven by our genuine desires for holi- ness, partly by the worldly over-activity that we internalize, we might transform Lent into a performance for God. But Lent is not our performance for God; Lent is God's gift to us. He invites us to draw closer to and become more like Christ in his emptiness, for he "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but rather emptied himself, taking the form of a servant" (Phil 2:6). If the Christian life is about becoming like Jesus, then we must begin here, by emptying ourselves, taking the form of servants. In desiring to overcome our vices and to increase in virtue, we must fi rst realize our simplicity and see each of our imperfections as a great opportu- nity for God's love to be manifest. The Catechism directs us to the parable of the prodigal son as a guide to understanding Christian penance, repentance and conversion. As elements in the process of conversion, it notes, "the fascination of illusory freedom, the abandonment of the father's house; the extreme misery in which the son fi nds himself; his deep humiliation…his refl ection on all he hast lost; his repen- tance…the journey back; the father's generous welcome" (1439). The prodi- gal son's wandering through profound humiliation and utter neediness is our model. Finally, to receive the father's embrace with complete self-surrender, humility, vulnerability and trust is the end of our own wandering in the desert. This year, the Lord leads me to assume a new posture toward the Lenten season. He has not drastically altered the nature of my practices and o" erings, but rather remade my inte- rior disposition. Many successes and achievements for which I praised myself have fallen away this semester through a series of humbling circumstances. These have forced me to reckon with the transient identities I constructed for myself, to acknowledge my actual lit- tleness, and most importantly, to realize more fully that Jesus' love for me is not contingent upon my accomplishments or achievements; it is contingent upon nothing other than my existence. For those desirous of sainthood, we can too easily forget this beginning, what should be the genesis of all our prayer and fasting and almsgiving. "The father's generous welcome" must be the font from which our spiritual lives fl ood forth, the pool to which they return for rest. Returning again and again to his outstretched arms is our surest defense against the temptations of anxiety. In our youthfulness, we college students are particularly zealous, but perhaps there is a bit of this Lenten performer complex within everyone. May we surrender the idea that we are perfecting ourselves and trust that God is perfecting us. I pray that as we con- tinue on our pilgrimage, we would accept both the reality of our emptiness and the father's perfect love in the midst of it, that we would let Christ "allure us" and "bring us into the wilderness and speak tenderly to us" (Hos 2:16) so that, through the mysterious consummation of the triduum, we will know his embrace and the joy of living as his betrothed. Relax students, God's not grading Lent MARY CATHERINE MEYER Mary Catherine Meyer, a Denver native, is a junior at Hillsdale College in Michigan. She is studying English literature, classical education and Latin; and enjoys good books, good food and good liturgy. Guest Column LETTERS Kudos to Gina Warner, Father (Randy) Dollins and Chris Stefanick for their perfectly timed "perspectives" (Feb. 21-27 Denver Catholic). For me the underlying theme of each one is a daily reminder: stop focusing on ME and start focusing on God! He is "the Way, the Truth and the Life," not me, not material things, not the world. Thank you for that reminder! JULIE HECKER Littleton Great job to Gina Warner on the article last week ("Getting real," Feb. 21-27 Denver Catholic). Our stories are actually pretty similar, at least on the subject of the Eucha- rist. I had no idea how much grace was awaiting my life! Thanks to Gina for sharing a bit of her story! SETH J. DEMOOR Englewood Thank you for your beautiful story in the Jan. 17 edition of the Denver Catholic highlighting the courageous choice by Trevor and Hayley Lamou- reux to carry their precious daughter, Veyda, despite getting medical advice to terminate the pregnancy ("30 Hours," Jan. 17-23). My husband and I also were in this unimaginable situation last year and gave birth to our son, Michael Jair Collison, on June 8, 2015. Upon fi nding out early in the pregnancy that he had a diagnosis that was "not compatible with life," we too were advised to terminate but chose to keep him no matter what the outcome was going to be. We only had about 25 minutes with him and the pain of losing him was worth every moment of getting to hold him, meet him and know that we gave him the absolutely best life possible. Since we were in a similar situation to the Lamoureux family, I was moved to clarify a small but important theological concept that is often mis- construed when children die. I have no doubt that our precious babies are in heaven with new, healthy bodies and are worshipping in the presence of the Lord. However, I want to make the important distinction that they are not angels. God created both humans and angels as distinct types of persons and one cannot become the other. Angels are his messengers, they worship God and they even protect us, but they are not the same as human beings. When we die, we will leave our earthy bodies behind, but we will not become angels. I fi nd great peace and comfort knowing that our Michael, and other children that have died, are in the wonderful presence of the Lord, alongside the angels. Thank you very much. ROSEANNE COLLISON Aurora LETTERS Send letters to DenverCatholic@archden. org, via www.DenverCatholic. org, or mail to Denver Catholic Letters, 1300 S. Steele St., Denver, CO 80210. Please include full name, city and phone number. Letters may be edited. Opinions are those of the author and not the Archdiocese of Denver. On perspectives Heaven and angels The campus of Hillside College. PHOTO BY BROTHER ATTICUS/WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

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