The Phoenix Cycle

where myth and Lent collide

The phoenix has a neat party trick.

Depending on the mythological tradition in question, this firebird of lore is reborn from its own ashes. Imagine: You meet a fiery end; things literally go up in flames. And then—poof! From the debris and rubble of life, you return. Renewed. Restored. Reborn.

A really neat part trick—especially if your party takes an unfortunate turn.

I’m not the first person to see in the phoenix myth a helpful parallel for our Lenten walk. The phoenix is a literal story of resurrection; what ends in ash and death is transformed into new life. The phoenix is often associated with the sun and with purifying flames. The spiritual similarities basically write themselves.

But here’s what I’m wondering: Where in the phoenix cycle are we?

We stood in the ashes on Ash Wednesday; we smeared them across our foreheads. Was this our moment of incineration? Are these forty days our slow, gradual, painful rebirth—a spiritual movement that culminates on Easter?

Or, were those ashes smeared across our foreheads simply the forerunners of the full-bodied pile of ash we necessarily become? Said differently, are we still burning? Are we still on fire? Are those late hours of Holy Saturday our phoenix moment, the eruption of new life within us from whatever we roasted during these forty days?

You say, “Eric—who cares? It’s all semantics. We rise on Easter all the same.”

And I say, “Yes, but… Have you ever seen a phoenix reborn from a phoenix only half-burned? Can you rise from ashes when you are not yet ashes?”

And you say, “Shut up, Eric. You’re making an awful big fuss over a fake bird.”

Here’s the thing: I think it’s important to know where we are in our phoenix cycle. And I think the answer can—and probably should—be different for all of us. But the process of rebirth from ashes is necessarily different from the process of burning away. We ask different questions. We have different tasks yet to complete.

If we are already being reborn during these Lenten days, then we should spend this final sprint to Easter asking things like:

• What will this new life look like for me?

• How am I invited to delve deeper into who God has remade me to be?

• What role must the Risen Lord play in my life?

But if we are still burning, then we wrestle with different types of questions:

• What of my old ways do I still cling to?

• What unhelpful things—habits, objects, relationships, etc.—have hold over me?

• Is something in me resistant to God’s purifying love?

Where are you in your phoenix cycle? Was Ash Wednesday a transition from one state to another, or was it the beginning of the current state’s end?

“Semantics,” you say. “We all burn in the end.”

But do we? Or—if we’re not careful, not intentional, not aware of our own moment—might we get stuck somewhere in the middle? Might we become some half-burned feathered monster, unable to let go and unable to look ahead?

I wonder if the worst case scenario is becoming trapped in a status quo that’s up in flames, that’s untenable, and yet clinging to it all the same.

And another thing:

• Last week at Mass we heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son. This is an important Gospel for me; it was pivotal in my own faith journey. So, I spent some time writing about it in this week’s “Now Discern This.” Check it out.

• We are official one month (+/- a day) from the launch of my next two books: “Finding Peace Here and Now: How Ignatian Spirituality Leads Us to Healing and Wholeness;” and my co-authored kids’ book: “Our Mother Too: Mary Embraces the World.” Did you preorder your copies yet? No pressure :-)