The Solace of the Psalms of Ascent in Lent

These glorious forty days of Holy Lent can at times seem onerous.  Depending on the rigor with which we assail the world, the flesh, and the devil through this time of grace, we may at this point find ourselves faltering.  Many of us have likely already crumbled under the rage of hunger and thirst, acquiescing to the truth that we are under no pain of sin for breaking the noble promises we made freely to God before the solemn prayers of Ash Wednesday were pronounced over us.

It is no surprise to those with ears to hear that our Lord himself knew temptation, hunger, and thirst as He spent his forty days in the desert. We know that Christ Himself was tried, and we find solace and inspiration in the fact that, unlike so many well-intended people, He rose as a conqueror over a writhing and forlorn enemy who could only nurse his wicked pride in the days and years to come, plotting as he may the downfall of the Son of Man.

The Spiritual Journey

To prepare our hearts for Easter, it is right and just that we should walk the desolate trenches of our own interior battlefield, taking stock of broken down defenses and holding ourselves accountable for falling short of the high calling of holiness.  Indeed, in the mirror of the Cross, we see ourselves as Christ sees us, broken and in need of grace. And yet, Christ sees more than we ever might through the dim half-light of our own musings.

Christ sees a son or daughter of the King, adopted and set upon a seat of glorious light in the ineffable Presence of the Father, and He invites us to join Him in the remnant of this spiritual training ground to carve out of ourselves the cancerous leaven of sin in order that He might place, in its stead, holy and life-giving grace.  Like Abraham before us, it takes only faith to begin this journey, but Abraham’s faith was enfleshed by action. His faith, which scripture reminds us was credited to him as righteousness, took shape in his movement—in his obedient response.

Those steps were a journey from the land of his fathers into a new and wide land. He journeyed in faith before the covenants were ratified again and again by God to His people. Long before Moses and the Prophets, Abraham heard the voice of God and trusted.

Faith is Interior

That interior assent of the will, which enlivens the hands and feet of men and women into praise and thanksgiving, just as readily metabolizes into penance and almsgiving.  Indeed, it must do so if that faith which crosses our lips and seals our minds for the eternal rewards of heaven is to be believed. It must be made alive. As the Father breathed life into dust, filling Adam with the power of His life-giving spirit, so we must fill the feeble frame of however weak a faith we lean upon with the life-giving embrace of grace and peace and watch as our active faith stumbles out into the world like a newborn lamb.

We live in what C.S. Lewis called prophetically an “atomic age,” and yet while the throbbing anxieties, wars, and rumors of wars are real and present dangers before us, we who follow in the shadow of the true Tree of Life, that is the Holy Rood of Christ, we have been assured that there will in fact always be such troubles.  Jesus is no more surprised by the machinations of inhuman political systems, warring states, or the bellicose mutterings of greed today than He was to find them dripping from the forked tongue of His tempter in the wilderness.

Israel followed the Pillar of Fire into the dark night of a wild expanse.  Christ followed the prompting of His Heavenly Father and retreated, likewise, into a desert where the vipers and jackals of despair haunted any who lost themselves within its embrace.  Both Israel and the New Adam stepped out of the wasteland and into the land of Promise, and we who set our faces like flint toward the New Jerusalem will likewise at last find our eternal promise in the bliss of heaven.

True Strength

Even so, we chafe and agonize in the midst of a wilderland of haze and confusion.  We are not as strong as we mean to be, and none of us can escape Lent without knowing it, provided we let the season give us the good medicine it was meant to impart.  Christ fought back the lies of the devil with the sword of the Psalter, and in these holy songs, we too might find comfort and strength. In the Psalms, we find a path well-worn for pilgrims laboring toward Jerusalem in what are known as Songs of Ascent.

Pilgrims marched, from wherever they hailed, always upward (“going up” in biblical language), rising incrementally toward the Divine Presence in the place of His chosen habitation, Mt. Zion.  We can find friendship with those who dragged weary feet mile upon mile for one brief moment of proximate comfort even within eyesight of the Temple. From Psalms 120 to 134 we find a journey from indescribably far off to the joyful celebration of God’s people in His shadow, and it is altogether fitting for Lenten pilgrims to meditate as we pick ourselves up from the road-dust and march on toward Easter’s joy.

Lifting Up Our Eyes

This Lent, as we pause along the foothills to glimpse the vistas of the holy land for the gilded peak of Zion herself, we too can sing, “I lift my eyes to the hills, from whence does my help come? My help comes from the lord, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2).  That same God who delivered the Psalmist from distress in Psalm 120, who kept, guarded, planted, and secured him along the way, is the God who became flesh and dwelt among us and walked where we must follow Him.

While the pilgrim’s journey from distant turmoil to the Peace of God is a beautiful metaphor, we are blissfully not limited to be literally dragged through the same mire.  We have, each week, blessed opportunities to find strength and solace in the mysteries of the Holy Mass. Through frequent recourse to the sacraments, we are given the spiritual strength to march on.

Though we be bruised and battered by the walking, or indeed by the stones and arrows of the scoffers along the way, we too can whisper the beautiful prayer of Psalm 131 before the tabernacle or in the stillness of the Church as the congregation departs, and slowly it is simply us and Christ alone.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.  But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a child quieted at its mother’s breast; like a child that is quieted is my soul. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and for evermore.