The Lent Roller

Lent is like a sneaky minx. It creeps upon you in the best of times and scoots the rug from under your comfortably planted feet—not violently enough to catalyze a full-on face plant, but ever so slightly, so as to tilt your axis from the kilter of your ego. Lent calls for a reckoning like a betrayed beggar and demands that your soul name a master. The spinning arrow of your compass must choose its destination. This is the great adventure of the penitential season.

Penitential seasons in the Church might seem a bit paradoxical. Why do we steep our souls in suffering, sacrifice, and sadness when we know that Jesus has already been victorious? Well, why does my mother cry every time she watches the movie Secretariat knowing the iconic racehorse will *spoiler alert* win the Triple Crown every time? The reason, I believe, is two-fold. (1) We deserve suffering. We are sinners and everything we have, every fiber of our existence, is a gift. We merit nothing on our own, but only through the sacrifice of Christ have we attained salvation. (2) We are seasonal by nature. It is important to take time to reflect on this, the greatest love story ever told, and that will require facing some hard truths and feeling some big feels. Lent is the space in which to do this reflecting. Yes, the victory has been won. But it came with a price.

The Lord confronts us in this moment so that we may feel the weight of our sin and be converted. It makes me think of that touching scene in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when Aslan takes Edmund aside to speak with him about his betrayal.  We are never told in the book exactly what is said in this exchange; it is the left for the reader to imagine and apply to his or her own life.  And so is the case each and every Lent.  We stare mercy in the face, feel its tender burn, and resolve to do better.

Let’s Talk about “X” Baby

In my camp, there were two kinds of people: the ones who counted Sundays as part of Lent and the ones who didn’t. I, myself, never liked to break my Lenten fasts (let’s call them “x”) on Sundays. I felt like indulging on Sunday meant that I would only be giving “x” up for one week at a time, and anyone could give “x” up for a week. No, I wanted to do Lent the right way. I wanted to feel the pain of the fast. I wanted to suffer the voluntary mortification and receive all of those awesome graces at the end of the 40 days.

And so I did that for a number of years. In the dorm bathroom I chose the shower that trickled the tepid water. I relinquished my bed and slept on the floor. I gave up the pleasures of music. I took the stairs. I put every restriction I could think of on my diet. And at the end of the 40 days each year, I was victorious; I was amazing—the X factor was solved. I had shown Lent who was the King.

Only later did I realize that Lent has no King but Jesus.

Papa was a Rollin’ Stone

Many people think this season is all about depriving oneself of some kind of happiness, but that viewpoint is grossly misconstrued. Rather, the season of Lent is about purifying our hearts so that our joy may become perfect. We are called to fast, yes, but only fasting that helps us to grow spiritually. If we find ourselves patting our backs at the end of Lent, then we have adopted the wrong posture in our hearts. Lent is not the time to lose the 10 pounds you’ve put off losing, or to save the money you should have been saving, or to finally make that attempt to quit smoking (though you really should quit smoking). Lent is not about the resurrection of your New Year’s resolutions or killing two birds with one stone. It is about a completely different kind of Resurrection, and Jesus was never one for throwing stones. (Though He does have a reputation for rolling them.)

Time for Temptation

I read an article once about how moderation during Lent can be more fruitful than altogether giving something up. It might be more mortifying, for example, to give up putting sugar in your coffee instead of simply replacing your coffee addiction with a tea addiction. Moderation (or Temperance) is the cardinal virtue whereby we strive to control our appetites. It is a virtue that helps us to curb temptation. The thing about temptation is that in order to develop strength against it, we must face the thing that tempts us. Jesus could have ordered Satan to leave Him while he was praying in the desert, but it was important that He show us how to dwell in the presence of temptation. And how did He do it? Prayer, silence, and scripture.

Now this doesn’t mean we should place ourselves intentionally in the path of temptations to sin (NB: avoid the near occasions of sin). But strength of moral character can be tested first with morally neutral substances, like sugar and coffee. Temperance comes from the Latin “temperare” which means “to mingle in due proportions.” That doesn’t mean giving things up in totality, but simply proportioning the things with which we mingle. So, using the previous example, if coffee is removed from your house, your temptation to drink it will be lessened; however, if you must instead modify your coffee routine every morning, this will have a greater effect on your will and the fruits of your sugar fast will become, well—extra fruity. And fruits tend to have a superior kind of sugar.

Free Fallin’

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, that solemn and hungry day when we are crossed on our foreheads and entreated with one of two dictums:

“Repent and believe in the Gospel” or “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Repent. Believe. Remember. Dust.

We turn away, and we jump towards. We remember the dust, and then we become it. We reflect on the beginning so that we may rejoice in the ending.

Lent is about conversion. We are called to humble ourselves. We are called to strip. And what happens when we allow ourselves to be stripped? We become poor. We embrace poverty. This is the great secret. Lent is not about chains and mortifications. It is about freedom.

I once attended a parish Lenten mission given by one of my favorite spiritual writers, Fr Jacques Philippe. The topic was poverty of spirit. He describes poverty as a great gift from God. It is a form of freedom. It is to want to possess nothing with the ultimate aim of being free, free to be able to receive everything from God in a gratuitous way, with total trust, so that everything we receive from God we are capable of giving. To be poor is to say, “Lord I have only You.”

Poor Wayfaring Stranger

The three pillars of Lent (a different kind of triple crown)  are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. But the overlying arch that these pillars support is that of poverty of spirit. Prayer and fasting come to mind easily when we think of what it means to be poor. But almsgiving is a bit different. Those who are poor tend to beg for alms, not give them. Again, here we are given a glimpse of the paradoxical truth that the scripture describes and the saints give witness to: the more we give, the more we will receive.

“A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, ‘Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.” Mark 12:42-44

“Give and gifts will be given to you…for the measure in which you measure will be measured out to you.” Luke 6:38

“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Mattew 5:3

“Whoever confers benefits will be amply enriched, and whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.” Proverbs 11:25

In college I was a member of a household of women (think of it as a Catholic sorority) and it just so happened that one year we had an inopportune scheduling of our bake sale fundraiser that caused it to fall on Ash Wednesday. A table of delicious muffins, cookies, and pastries was spread like a feast before the bustling student body. They, of course, could not support us on a fasting day. And as the people filed by between their classes, I have distinct memories of yelling, “Alms for us poor Handmaids! No need to eat the cupcake. Just drop the alms right over here.” Most walked sadly by, eyeing the table with the firm resolution that comes with that very first day of a Lenten promise.  But some blessed souls did give us money.  Perhaps they understood what it means to be truly poor.  Or maybe they just wanted us to stop yelling.

I have another precious memory of visiting my godmother in Midland, Texas while interviewing for graduate school.  My mother, also present, was discussing my father’s upcoming heart surgery and the financial burdens that it would bring.  Without hesitation, my godmother reached into her purse and produced a wad of what had to be hundreds of dollars which she then promptly thrust into my mothers hands.  Now that is radical poverty.  That is what it means to recognize that we are entitled to nothing.  Everything we have is a gift and is given so that we may in turn give it to others.

I’m in Luv with a Stripper

To be stripped is to be free. Anyone who has gone skinny-dipping knows this feeling. There is a reason why the first action of fallen man was the hiding of nakedness. Adam and Eve had become slaves to sin. They were no longer free. The translucent veil of their mystery was now burdened by the opaqueness of their pride. Christ died on the cross to restore the torn veil. But we are not off the hook.  Mercy triumphs over judgement.  But justice demands reparation.

The remedy of pride is humility, and one of the surest paths to become truly humble is by way of penitence. Blaise Pascal once wrote, “There must be feelings of humility, not from nature, but from penitence, not to rest in them, but to go on to greatness.”

So the next time you are struggling with your Lenten commitments, call to mind the immense riches that are to be found during this season. Embrace the call to become poor. The Lord has you. He died for you. And if He is not giving you the answer that you desire, remember that sometimes He simply wants you to be poor. So take this opportunity to strip away the unholy attachments you have to this world. Embrace the cross. It is the shortest way to Heaven and the only pole that is truly worthy of your dancing.

*Forgive me, Jesus, if this post was too scandalous—but I can’t help but note that the preaching of “Christ Crucified” is described in scripture as a stumbling block, or “skandalon” in the Greek (1 Cor 1:23), which is the root of the word “scandalous.” Flannery O’ Connor says that sometimes “you have to make your vision apparent by shock—to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.”

I tend to agree.