Abba Evagrius said, “When Moses sought to approach the Burning Bush, he was told to take off his sandals. When you seek to pray, bear in mind the sandals you wear which prevent your approach to God.”
I’m a sinner. I know it, but don’t like to think about it. I don’t like to think about it so much that I can turn even the forty days of Lent, a time to ponder sin, into something else. I can make it about me and how successful I am in keeping the disciplines of the season. I can change this time, given to “afflict my soul,” into a matter of liturgical colors and outward observances.
I’d be hard-pressed to blame anybody else for doing that when I do it myself so easily. But I’m efficient enough of a sinner that I can. I can blame you for sins I myself commit all the while telling myself you’re in far worse shape than I am.
The Pharisee in the Lord’s parable, who thanks God he’s better than everybody else, rings true because he says out loud what I think to myself. Each of us knows we’re better and more important than anybody else. We don’t like Lent, at least not the Lent that isn’t about liturgical colors and special hymns, because it’s rude enough say aloud the private truths we keep to ourselves.
You and I are sinners, and not delicate ones. The sins Lent strips away aren’t thoughts of taking an extra dessert now and then or smiles at an occasional risqué innuendo. When my sins are laid bare, they reveal a man who’ll claw at others to get something for himself. I’ll use you for me.
A Lent that holds up such a mirror to my soul is a Lent worth keeping.
Lent isn’t an end in itself, though. It means to help me see my sins, and seeing them make me sorry for them, and sorrowing for them fight them. From the day you begin to do that until the day you die, you’ll be fighting. Abba Anthony said “Expect temptations till your last breath.”
We fight for a reason. Abba Evagrius said, “When you seek to pray, bear in mind the sandals you wear.” When God spoke to Moses from the Burning Bush, he first ordered him to take off his sandals, “for this is Holy Ground.” Nothing wrong with sandals. But Abba Evagrius sees them as standing for sin.
The goal of our lives is prayer. Prayer isn’t long words and complicated religious ideas; it’s living as God’s friend. Sin stands in the way of that, so Abba says, take it off, toss it aside.
A really close friend, a companion of your soul, is someone you can share yourself with. You can reveal the secrets of who you are. If I betray such a friendship, the pain is profound. Until it’s openly and fully shared, until I own up to my betrayal, the friendship cannot be repaired.
That’s what sin is. Lent is the uncomfortable reminder that you and I have betrayed our friendship with God. The purpose isn’t to make me feel bad, but to push me to restore the friendship: own up to what I’ve done, say I’m sorry, repair damaged love.
“Bear in mind the sandals you wear.” Take them off. Toss them away. Then step closer to the Fire.
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