As Lent wends its way deeper into this year,
we might become conscious of previous pathways laid by others who have gone
before us. People who have been faithful followers of Christ in whose footsteps
we tread. Their legacy might be the path we now tread. A legacy of secret
liberation. Work not done for attention or specific remembrance, but a
bi-product of their faithfulness.
Like another contributor to these pages, I
have always been struck by the phrase in the Ash Wednesday liturgy we have used
in years past: ‘Lent is not a time to be festive, but it is a time to
become free, to be planted in holy ground, to become oaks of righteousness.’
It is also a time to set others free through the freedom we discover. I wonder
what legacy of secret liberation Christ is calling you and I to this Lent?
In the wonderful passages in Matthew 6 where
Jesus is recorded teaching on prayer, fasting and alms-giving, there is a
repeated mantra about secrecy. ‘Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret,
will reward you,’ says Jesus as he urges his followers to pray in secret, give
in secret, fast in secret.
There is something modest yet extravagant
about the life Jesus calls us into sharing. These are secret yet liberating
acts which leave quiet legacies of love.
Maya Angelou, an American poet, singer, and civil rights activist said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
ReplyDeleteFeelings are hidden and remain secret unless we choose to share or express them in some way.
I think of and give thanks for the legacies:
of those who make me feel and know I am loved;
of those who make me laugh and smile;
of those who make me feel that what I can contribute is of value;
of those who have inspired me to pray;
of those who by being themselves draw me into God’s presence.
These “quiet legacies of love” help me be free to walk my own footprints. On Ash Wednesday we were invited to make our own clay footprints. Each person’s footprint is unique. So, for me, it’s not so much about walking in Christ’s footsteps, which I will always fall short of this, but walking alongside one another, making different footprints yet sharing the same path, maybe going off course from time to time, but always being drawn back to being Christ’s companions on the way of the cross and to abundant resurrection life.
Reading this today, I remember the legacy left by one of my favourite secondary school teachers. He was quiet and unassuming, but he touched the life of every student he met, indelibly. Whether the student was good at Maths or not, he was there for each one.
ReplyDeleteMost teachers I recall, ruled by fear. This teacher was so different to the others. He respected every student. That was not something any of us in that class had experienced. I particularly recollect my classmate handing in her workbook devoid of the work it was meant to be filled with. Instead of the long rows of working out it should have been filled with, the top of each page was headed with,
‘I don’t understand’.
My heart raced and my stomach churned for her, as I wondered what punishment he might mete out to her. The following day, after the teacher had handed back out books, he quietly made his way to Maipelo. I was filled with dread. To my immense surprise, while the rest of us worked out the sums he had set out for us, he went through the work that Maipelo hadn’t understood with her. There wasn’t a single word of reproach, not a hint of anger or irritation. That day remains imprinted in my mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
At his funeral some years ago, one of his former students said,
‘ He has left his handprint on our country.’
His was a legacy of unconditional love; modest, yet extravagant.