This past Sunday marked the first Sunday of Lent.  Repentance and circumspection dominate, as those so inclined spend ever more time pondering the exigencies within their lives, the fleeting puffs of materiality in which we have life and breath.  Life looks more remarkable than ever:  a befuddling experience, yes, but the only experience, at this point, we have.

    Given the wonder of the world, it's easy to rejoice in life without also wondering why life is, why we have it, why this existence has been given to us.  To what end do we live?
 

    In its call to slow down, to meditate and consider, to let go of the immediate, Lent carves multiple inroads into this question, dissembling the perfunctory and expected and normal.  It calls us not to live without knowing why we are alive, to not seek a life of zest without understanding what life means, to recognize the enormity of our human contingency, the unerring fact of our evanescence.

    

    Lent invites us to look at what matters most.  Who will we really be when we leave this world:  ashes or creatures of eternity?