what can i affirm: credos for the halfway mark of lent...

One of my favorite contemporary performing artists is Carrie Newcomer. On this fourth Sunday in Lent - when some of us have paid NO attention at all to the pilgrimage Jesus makes to Jerusalem and Golgotha; and others have tried to join the journey but become distracted, ashamed or overwhelmed; and some don't care at all while a few have made incremental steps by grace towards the practice of prayer, fasting, compassion and sharing - my heart turns to Ms. Carrie's song "I Believe." For me, it rings truer than many of the creeds I have been asked to affirm along the way - and sounds a lot like Jesus, too. 

James Carroll, the Irish Vatican II priest from Boston who left his ordination to go deeper into his calling as a truth teller by becoming newspaper person and author, crafted another credo at the close of his book Christ Actually - and it works pretty well for me at the half way mark of Lent, too:

Jesus, the Jew from Nazareth, is a living expression of the inexpressible God. He is the Christ, Son of Man, according to the Scriptures. He is present to the world the way meaning is present in the word. Just as a word points not to itself, but to its meaning, so Jesus Christ, Son of God, points to One whom he calls Father. In that way, as one of us, he is the Word of God, whose Meaning comes clear. The Unknowable One, therefore, can be known. Because God is not an enemy, but a friend, we need not be afraid. Because God completes what God begins, death is not the end, but a beginning, wholly undefined. Because God is faithful creation has a purpose, and its name is history. Imitators of Jesus Christ, we want mainly to be kind and true, taking heart from our dear companions on the way. And we say with those who go before, and who come after. Amen. So may it be.

Then there is Donna Hilbert's poem called "Credo." I like it a lot. Within its small embrace there is room for me. It is humble and honest. It is open to all that is hearty and nourishing without pretense. It reminds me of Psalm 131: 

MY heart is not lifted up, nor are my eyes raised too high.
I do not occupy myself with things too great or too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a child on her mother's breast.

This "Credo" sounds like my sou feels at this time in Lent: I start off trying to be simple but have grand illusions about what I can accomplish on the journey to the Cross. Four weeks in, however, I realize that I've barely been able to consistently light a candle and sit with quiet intentions over the past month. The four week marker is like an oasis to regroup and make the most of whatever remains. Like Ms. Hilbert, I'm pretty sure I can be awake for Tuesdays and Wednesdays - and even enjoy the time after supper, too. Tonight, alongside these your saints, I pray: Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers. 

I believe in the Tuesdays
and Wednesdays of life,
the tuna sandwich lunches
and TV after dinner.
I believe in coffee with hot milk
and peanut butter toast,
Rosé wine in summer
and Burgundy in winter.

I am not in love with holidays,
Birthdays––nothing special––
and weekends are just days
numbered six and seven,
though my love
dozing over TV golf
while I work the Sunday puzzle
might be all I need of life
and all I ask of heaven.