When I lived in Nova Scotia, midwinter meant frozen water buckets at Nova Nada Hermitage: our wood stoves and inadequate insulation in our lakeside hermitages failed to prevent water buckets from forming a layer of ice. And yes, they were indoors. The buckets were in our hermitages because we had no running water in the winter. We took water from lovely old rock-lined wells.

Later in Crestone, Colorado, winters were much colder than in Nova Scotia. But thank goodness our hermitages were new, well-insulated, and oriented to capture the plentiful Colorado sunshine. Still, I recall the winter of 1990-1991 when arctic cold assaulted us on All Saints Day and I don’t think the temperature rose above freezing until the following March. What a delight to feel terra firma beneath our boots when spring finally arrived.

So I feel spoiled here in the Sonoran Desert, where Tessa and I hike and welcome the beginnings of wildflower season, with penstemons, poppies, globemallow, chicory and scorpion weed. Even some lupine—dwarfed and distant cousins to the tall, abundant masses of purple lupines that line the roadsides in Nova Scotia’s apple-blossom spring, which arrives months from now.

But it’s not all warm days and flowers here.

As I write, I grieve the school girls killed by U.S.-Israeli air strikes in Iran and all the deaths that lie ahead. As Pope Leo wrote after last summer’s attack:

War does not solve problems. On the contrary, it amplifies them and causes deep wounds in the history of peoples—wounds that take generations to heal. No military victory can ever compensate for a mother’s pain, a child’s fear, or a stolen future.

As Lent continues and winter cedes to spring, I remember the principle that the most fruitful penance is not punitive, but positive. Not warring against my vices but building integrative virtues, as an athlete builds muscle, speed, and grace.

By “integrative,” I mean loving others and ourselves in our complexities and woundedness. Adam Bucko writes beautifully about this in his reflection on St. Francis befriending a wolf.

I really appreciate Pope Leo’s Lenten practice of abstaining

…  from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities.

And speaking of slander, it’s interesting that Sarah Ruden, in her translation of the Gospels, calls the devil the Slanderer, who is also adept at quoting scripture.

The Buddhist monks who recently walked from Texas to Washington, DC in bitter winter weather also uphold this anti-slander attitude. Bhikkhu Pannakara, the leader of the Walk for Peace, spoke at the Lincoln Memorial and encouraged us to make a habit of kindness:

Love and kindness does not need power, money, or a title. It is simply the choice to stop before hurting, to sharpen before speaking. If each person takes just one second to ask, will this hurt anyone? The world would already be kinder.

What a serendipity that just as the monks arrived in Washington, the Love Forward March began in North Carolina. It ended with a rally to encourage citizens to vote and oppose gerrymandering that aims to prevent election of candidates supporting policies that empower poor and low-income white and BIPOC citizens. “It’s time to vote our love and walk in the vitality and vision of love,” according to march organizer Rev. William Barber II, president and senior lecturer of Repairers of the Breach and founding director of the Yale Center for Public Theology and Public Policy.

I’m sure you’re aware of the festering contempt circulating in our country these days. I find solace in the Pope’s words, the Buddhist monks’ mindful walk, and the Love Forward March. I hope you do, too.