A Divine Lent #23: Who sees the need but waits for the request, already is half-guilty of denial

A daily reflection during Lent on Dante's The Divine Comedy.

Canto 17 of Purgatory is the midpoint of this middle volume, so thus the midpoint of The Divine Comedy.  This journey which began is a dark wood is now in a dense cloud of smoke; multiple times Dante has shown that the path to light is littered with periods of darkness.  It can be like driving in the early morning on the Blue Ridge Parkway, ascending in light only to be enveloped by fog once your reach the top, driving somewhat blinded, until the fog begins to lift.  The reward is a stunning view.

The cloud clears for Dante as well, and he immediately receives visions of the fate of the Wrathful.  Symmetric with the early visions of the examples of the Meek, the visions occur before and after the cloud of the wrath.  It is a narrative reminder of the blindness caused by wrath making me inaccessible to receive wisdom or guidance.  Dante's instructive visions, while they do not require site, only occur when he is clear of the dark cloud.

Following the visions, Dante and Virgil encounter the Angel of Meekness who shows them the path to ascend to the next level and removes another "P" from Dante's forehead.  Virgil notes that they should not wait for angel to explicitly ask them to ascend.

He treats us as a man would treat himself:

who sees the need but waits for the request,

already is half-guilty of denial;

so, let our feet obey his call, and climb...

How Midwestern of me to wait to be asked.  I do not want to intrude or help where I might interfere with someone else.  Is this "politeness" though really just avoidance or denial, adding to the list of what I have left undone.  It would be better for me to listen to Virgil and move my feet without waiting to be asked.

This reluctance to action foreshadows the travelers' next destination, the terrace of the Slothful.  As Virgil explains,

That love of good which failed to satisfy

the call of duty, here is fortified:

the oar once sluggish now is plied with zeal.

The intentions are good, but the action is lacking.  On this terrace, those souls with love too deficient to act learn to act with zeal.  Virgil also explains that this is the midpoint in purgatory.  The first three terraces (Pride, Envy, and Wrath) were conditions of love misdirected to worldly objects such as fame, power, or things.  Now the object of love is good, but its intensity lacks the zeal to do good.  Virgil characterizes this as lukewarm love.  Lukewarm reminds me of Goldilocks--not too cold, not too hot, just right.  Lukewarm can be comfortable.  I feel good about my intentions, but there's no rush to actually take a risk with action.  There's no need to be bold so suddenly.

In Lent, may we put politeness aside when the need is apparent, choosing boldness and action instead of being comfortably lukewarm.