I’ve been asking myself whether I’m spending my week as holy as possible. I promised to attend the Via Crucis, but I always end up waking late. The Via Crucis starts so early. I don’t even have time to jog on the beach which, again, I have promised myself once the summer vacation begins. I’m such a bum. Holy Tuesday, I practically did nothing again. I spent the whole time in front of the computer monitor tweeting and FBing and blogging. Oh, Lord. I didn’t even have time to reflect. This Wednesday, the routine repeats. I still read A Game of Thrones and I’m catching up before Season 2 starts on April 21.
I keep on asking the real essence of the Lenten Season. Yeah, it’s about commemorating the passion of Christ, being awed at the greatness of His love for us as portrayed in the numerous flicks about Him and the stories told to us when we were kids.
When I was young, Lent is all about silence. Pure reflection, as TV programs were cancelled then. And to kill time, we would just listen to the radio and heard stories on the lives of the saints. We were not even allowed to go out of the house because God would not be able to watch over us because He’s dead.
I’d like to think that Lent has more meaning when I was a kid. Despite the fabrications, I guess my faith was more strengthened and my innocent notion of God as a Saviour made me kinder and attentive to my beliefs.
Now, my relationship with the higher power has become more personal. I don’t see him as someone who is crucified every Good Friday, or being kissed inside a fakely ornamented and redolent casket. For me, He exists everyday. I mean, after all, He is omniscient and omnipotent.
So, I may not be doing something holy this week like going to confession or visiting churches or doing some penance, but I am fully aware that GOD wants me to do my own stuff. His death is a celebration of life. He died that we may live. Why not enjoy every moment of it? Sulking inside the room is just so boring.
Let life be the refection of God’s love.