This Lent, the overlapping geopolitical crises that have displaced more than 114 million people are granting me new insights into the writings of Ephrem the Syrian, a fourth-century refugee and theologian whose prayers and hymns have been used by Christians during Lent for centuries. Specifically, I am drawn to how Ephrem invites us to confession and fasting as practices of hope and rest.
Born in Nisibis, Ephrem was displaced from his homeland due to a shift in Persian imperial control when he was about 50 years old. His extensive theological writings are thought to be mostly from the later period of his life when he lived in Edessa, a diverse city at the margins of Roman control in modern-day Turkey. There, he ministered to a community of asylum seekers subject to the oppressive churn of rival imperial powers.
Ephrem is one of the most influential theologians in churches with links to Syriac Christian traditions, including many Orthodox communions, Maronite Christians of Lebanon, and Catholics of the Byzantine Rite. He is particularly important in those traditions during the season of Lent, as many Orthodox Christians’ daily Lenten prayers repeat a petition attributed to Ephrem.
He invites us to see repentance as an opportunity for rest.
In the prayer below from The Armenian Prayers Attributed to Ephrem the Syrian, you may note how Ephrem’s writing is highly sensory and acknowledges both human frailty and hope. He invites us to see repentance as an opportunity for rest.
“Grant me, O Lord, an opportunity for repentance,
rest from my labor, a spirit of peace,
the way of righteousness,
strong armament and a guardian of salvation,
firm hope and unwavering fear. …
Grant to me, O Lord, weeping of the eyes,
pouring out of tears, mourning for my sins,
fear of the thoughts in my heart, quaking of my bones, trembling at my punishments,
the path of life, and unceasing supplication.”
A different prayer, the customary “Prayer of St. Ephrem” often used in Lent, asks that God “spare me from the spirit of apathy and meddling, Of idle chatter and love of power.” While this is sometimes read as a confession of “sloth,” I appreciate the Byzantine Catholic translation, which invites us away from “apathy” and the “love of power.”
Ephrem encourages us to mourn. Based on the realities of the world and my community, this posture feels right. In recent years, my church community in central New Jersey has taken bold steps to welcome and meet the needs of displaced and unhoused people through the formation of a non-profit housing corporation, RCHP-AHC, and interfaith refugee resettlement agency, Interfaith-RISE.
This work has connected us to many neighbors who have been displaced by armed conflict in places like Syria, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Yemen and Ukraine. Some of our new neighbors fled Afghanistan after the failed U.S. intervention there. We have many Central American and Caribbean people in our community who seek asylum in the United States due to the devastation of natural disasters compounded by legacy problems of exploitative American imperialism and economic policies. Working with displaced people reveals that their needs far outweigh the present capacities of local, national, and international infrastructures.
My community informs how I read Ephrem. This Lent, I grieve the massive killing and further displacement of Palestinians. My prayers of confession cry out against the razor wire and hateful invective that mark America’s southern border. I contemplate and confess our society’s indifference to those who die seeking refuge, who find no help or welcome. In fasting, I confess that my standard of living in the U.S. is linked to economic and political structures that exploit and discard the poor. In my awareness of momentary hunger, I am more mindful of those for whom hunger is not a choice.
For American Christians, I wonder if Lent presents us with an opportunity to gain awareness of our sins concerning the displacement of others. Many among us have stood silent and indifferent to the ways imperialist powers acting on our behalf have worsened and profited from the crisis of displacement happening around the world. Perhaps we need to join Ephrem in prayers against apathy and love of power.
It is a grace to become aware of our sins.
It is a grace to become aware of our sins. According to Ephrem, when we embrace our frailty and repent our failures, we are led by God along paths of justice. He reminds us that rest can be found in the awareness of grief, heartache, and the quaking of our bones at the fear of our mortality. He suggests that this kind of repentance and lament leads us toward hope, God’s spirit of peace, and the path of life. May it be so.
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