From the rector: Seeking sure footing in Lent

Climbers ascend a mountain in Slovenia. (Photo by Travid Vid Legradic from Pexels)

By the Rev. Benjamin Wells Maas

The Rev. Benjamin Wells Maas

I am over a half-century old and never owned a pair of crampons. If you had asked me whether there was a void in my life without them, I would have certainly said no. That I would have been unable to describe or identify a “crampon” helped solidify that assertion. However, following the recent ice storm, my fiancée told me to order a pair of crampons. I typed the word as closely as I could phonetically into my Amazon app, and for under $20, I could own my first pair (yes, they come in pairs). It turns out they look like a torture device but are essentially snow chains for your shoes or boots. By the time they arrived it looked like the worst of the storm conditions had passed and I contemplated returning them, but figured I’d wait a few days and see.

I put them in the car the next time we went to walk the dogs and intended to leave them there, but said fiancée strongly encouraged me to bring them on the walk. Still contemplating returning them, I begrudgingly carried them with me as we walked. I trudged through the slowly melting snow and ice, and for the first several hundred yards I was quietly scrutinizing the decision to carry these rubber and metal contraptions for the next three miles. Then we turned the corner to the first predominantly shaded climb, and I began to slide backward. With each step I fought to keep my balance while sliding several feet back. I looked slightly ahead to see said fiancée effectively walking up the hill in her crampons and decided to give these crampons a try. Now they did nothing to counter the fact that I hadn’t walked in a couple of weeks or that walking through snow is a lot harder than walking on solid ground, but amazingly they grabbed the snow with every step.

I really struggled to write this Lenten reflection, because every time I sat down in front of the computer, the enormity of our national and global reality overwhelmed me. Some pointers for a more meaningful Lent felt trite amidst profound national discord and heartbreaking global conflict. So much looms so large and feels so far beyond our control. I begin the day listening to the news, and before I have even finished my first cup of coffee, I feel myself sliding further down that icy hill with each step. I feel so helpless and small. Whether it is the daily news or events far closer to home, we all need firmer footing.

I imagine that Jesus’ steps toward Jerusalem felt unsure. With every disciple’s blindness, resistance, denial, betrayal, with every rejection and hostility those sandals would slide back down. But that time in the wilderness, that confrontation with the evil that nags and pulls, the connection to a reality beyond our seeing all helped him dig in, enabled him to put one foot in front of another, to overcome the seeming futility. Those forty days of stripped down clarity and self-examination gave him the traction he needed to walk and even carry his cross to Calvary.

Perhaps, figuring out how to find our grip and take a few steps up that hill is everything, the only way we find our footing in this world. We can make hope a discipline, sew deeper connections to God, and dig deeper into God’s Word. We can attend to what we can control, take really good care of someone who really needs us, make small differences, face the temptation to throw our hands in the air, curl up in a ball, to look at that slick hill and just turn back around.

I now know I really need crampons, and I need the church and her instruments, such as this holy season of Lent to be that sure footing that keeps me moving up this hill. I hope that Lent helps you find your crampons too.

Peace and much love,

Ben+

Father Ben is the rector of Saint James’ Episcopal Church and the chaplain of Saint James’ Episcopal School. Contact him at rector@saintjameswarrenton.org.