Septuagesima: What have I withheld?

SEPTUAGESIMA
by Christi­na Ros­set­ti

One step more, and the race is end­ed;

One word more, and the lesson’s done;

One toil more, and a long rest fol­lows

At set of sun.

Who would fail, for one step with­hold­en?

Who would fail, for one word unsaid?

Who would fail, for a pause too ear­ly?

Sound sleep the dead.

One step more, and the goal receives us;

One word more, and life’s task is done;

One toil more, and the Cross is car­ried

And sets the sun.

ere it not that I went to the Tri­den­tine Mass today, I would have for­got­ten that it is Sep­tu­a­ges­i­ma. As I knelt in prayer pri­or to Mass, I won­dered why the litur­gi­cal col­ors were being changed to pur­ple. I know that I’ve need­ed to catch up on some sleep, but sure­ly I had­n’t gone to bed and wok­en up on Ash Wednes­day.

Grate­ful­ly, the priest in his homi­ly remind­ed me of what I should have remem­bered. Before I had become Catholic, but after I had fall­en in love with litur­gy through read­ing the Book of Com­mon Prayer, I had a great fond­ness for these less­er litur­gi­cal obser­vances lead­ing up to Lent—Septuagesima, Sex­a­ges­i­ma, and Quin­qua­ges­i­ma. In the Ordi­nary Form, these tra­di­tion­al obser­vances have been (sad­ly) expunged, but they are still marked in the old­er. (The words “Sep­tu­a­ges­i­ma,” “Sex­a­ges­i­ma,” and “Quin­qua­ges­i­ma” are pat­terned after the Latin word for the sea­son of Lent, “Quadra­ges­i­ma,” meaning—naturally—“fortieth.”) Tra­di­tion­al­ly, start­ing on Sep­tu­a­ges­i­ma, the faith­ful begin sev­en­teen days of spir­i­tu­al prepa­ra­tion for the start of Lent.

It’s not a bad idea; in the same way that one should pre­pare for the start of a phys­i­cal fast, one should also pre­pare for the start of a spir­i­tu­al fast.

Today’s epis­tle read­ing is 1 Corinthi­ans 9:24–10:5, in which St. Paul urges Chris­tians to run so as to obtain the prize: “Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. And every man that striv­eth for the mas­tery is tem­per­ate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a cor­rupt­ible crown; but we an incor­rupt­ible. I there­fore so run, not as uncer­tain­ly; so fight I, not as one that beat­eth the air: But I keep under my body, and bring it into sub­jec­tion: lest that by any means, when I have preached to oth­ers, I myself should be a cast­away.”

The Gospel read­ing was Matthew 20:1–16, the para­ble of the labor­ers in the vine­yard, in which those who came at the last hour received the same reward as those who had labored all day.

I have always looked at this para­ble with a great sense of comfort—typical, I sup­pose, for one (like myself) often guilty of pro­cras­ti­na­tion. Even if I come late, even if I come at the final hour, the reward is the same.

But one must be care­ful with thoughts like these. Who knows when the final hour will be? Who knows when the Lord will demand an account? Be care­ful, lest you be found sleep­ing. Oh, I’ll come to Christ tomor­row you say. Oh, I’ll give up that sin next week you say. But no. What if this is your last day?

Do not wait until Ash Wednes­day to con­fess. Go now. Don’t wait until the last hour to go to the vine­yard. Labor now, and do good.

Pum­mel your body and sub­due it, St. Paul tells us. Get your­self under your own con­trol. Do not perish—turning to Christi­na Ros­set­ti’s language—for the lack of one step, one fur­ther toil, one word left unsaid. I am remind­ed when I read this poem: What have I held back from Christ? What have I left undone, say­ing, “maybe tomor­row”? What part of myself am I keep­ing for myself when I should give it to Christ? In what room of my soul have I shut the door to him with a sign that says “No entry”? But just that one part more, and the prize is won.

It is fit­ting that the Church, in its tra­di­tion­al litur­gy, would begin a peri­od of prepa­ra­tion for Lent with sen­ti­ments such as these. It is by med­i­tat­ing on them that we will know what penance we should prac­tice for Lent. What have I with­held from Christ? What have I kept for myself? What­ev­er your answer to those ques­tions is: Give that away this year. It will mean very lit­tle if, once more, lack­ing any real dis­cern­ment, you decide to give up cook­ies. Why not give up your­self?