There is something about the later days of the Lenten journey that have the capacity to bring more fully to our awareness the reality of Jesus' forty days in the wilderness. Those who follow some form of the lectionary on Sundays are led to contemplate Jesus' temptation in the wilderness early on in the season. It seems to me that the force of the story has more power some many days into Lent than perhaps at the beginning. Grant it we contemplate it at the beginning of Lent to give us a roadmap through the desert of our own pilgrimage, but the closer we get to the end of the forty days I have become more aware of the hunger. Jesus ate nothing for those forty days and Luke uses the word 'famished' to describe his condition after those days were over. But the wilderness was a place of victory for Jesus in the face of exhaustion, hunger and temptation.
I was struck some years back by a Lenten decoration I came across for the first time in a church sanctuary. I was familiar with the veiled cross for the season, but what captured my attention was a single large cactus plant that was positioned in front of the altar to one side. At first it seemed like an obvious visual to remind us of the desert journey of Lent. Over the years as I have spent time with that image it has come to mean more. Cactuses are one of those special plants that can thrive in the wilderness. They are heat resistant and even more key, they thrive with litttle water. The creative genious of these plants is their capacity to retain the water they get for long periods of time and survive. They're covered in those thorny spines to protect their precious water storage. Otherwise thirsty creatures would easily overtake them for their precious flow. Now all of this is pretty obvious to us, but beyond the botany lesson is a spiritual reality: we too can thrive in the wilderness. It's a place of testing and temptation, yes, but the cactus reminds us that things can survive the desert. In those times when the water seems scarce we know that there is living water. It may not seem to abound everywhere, but it is present. We need only to realize its true source.
A colleague of mine told me of an experience she had while in the Holy Land for a time. The group with whom she traveled was taken out to the desert at midday to be released for one hour to spend time in solitude there. Watter bottle in hand, she headed out to try to find a place of refuge from the sun beating down so intensely. She found a huge rocky area and decided to use it as somewhat of a shield for the hour and then head back. As she sat down to meditate she noticed a single blade of grass shooting up through the sand. As she relayed the story to me she emphasized what that meant to her. Sun beating down, no escaping the harshness of the conditions, no source of water to be found, certainly not any kind of oasis spot in sight here was this single blade of grass growing courageously in the midst of that barrenness all around. Though it was a single blade it was grass and for that grass to grow meant there was water somewhere. Maybe it wasn't a lot of water, but it was there. And that little blade of grass was growing from that little supply of water wherever it was coming from.
In this 'later' time of Lent we are becoming more aware of the wilderness around us. We've been journeying for some time. Those things we are fasting are very much missed. The simplicity we have embraced has been effective for our continued growth in this season, but we are longing for the feast. The sun is beating down on this desert and it may seem like there is no refuge. Hungry, thirsty, we are longing not only for the oasis, but for fruifulness, abundance, real sacramental signs of the new creation among us.
...and they are there. Like single blades of grass and the rugged cactus we know there is water somewhere. It may not be floods, but it is there. and even in the desert we can drink and not only survive, but thrive. We need only to realize its true source...and determine to be cultivated there.
