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Better Laetare than Never

Address at Vespers for Laetare Sunday

Sr. Ann Catherine Swailes o.p.
So, we have reached Laetare Sunday: the midpoint of Lent when, traditionally, the Church bids us relax a little and rejoice. And, if I am tempted to feel that in my case there is not much to rejoice about precisely because my observance of Lent so far has been all too relaxed, help is at hand in the form of  a play on words that suggests there is still time to get things back on track before Easter – after all, better Laetare than never. But it’s a serious point: and perhaps this truly terrible pun is for life, not just for Lent.

In the Christian life, it is not merely that it is better to be late than not to show up at all, but even that it is at least as good to be late as to be early: we have the witness of some of the greatest saints in the calendar for this. Think of St Augustine, for instance, whose words resonate so powerfully with today’s gospel. In his Confessions, Augustine tells us that, as a young man on a journey into the far country of unfulfilled longing for love, “disfigured as I was, I fell upon the lovely things that you have made”. When he finally recognises that although he was not with God, God was with him in this journey, his maker’s mark stamped on all the lovely things Augustine has misused, famously he cries out “Late, late have I loved you, O beauty ever ancient and ever new!”- and is welcomed home to his heavenly Father’s house like the prodigal son in the parable.  A comfort for all of us who have ever been tempted damagingly to mistake the creature for the creator, which perhaps at some time or other, and in some way or other, has been all of us. 

But perhaps equally consoling for most if not all of us, is the example of another great saint: Teresa of Avila. Not long before her death, looking back at the early days of her religious life which, with her usual down to earth and frank self-awareness, she now sees as lukewarm at best, Teresa exclaims “oh how late have my desires been enkindled”. She goes on to acknowledge that people “usually say lost time cannot be recovered” but insists that all things are possible with God: “recover, my God, the lost time by giving me grace in the present. For, if you want to, you can do so”. 

He did want to for her, and he does want to for us. It may take a lifetime to enkindle our desires, but it can happen, even at the 11th  hour.  And so, we too can look forward to Easter not only on earth but in heaven, where something better than fatted calf will be on the menu, and all our elder brotherly resentments, distorted desires and regrets over words left unsaid and opportunities missed will be stilled for ever, our hearts at rest in him who has made us for himself. And so, we too can rejoice. Truly, better Laetare than never.

 

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