What no one ever says about Lent
The penitential season of Lent is upon us, and no doubt, most are considering how best to orient ourselves away from the distractions and delights of our earthy abode, to better fix our eyes upon the impending sacrifice and salvation of Calvary.
For myself, there is the obvious abnegation of rich foods and drinks. One needn’t be trapped by what can be a simplistic and reductionist fixation on avoiding sweets, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to temper the sweet tooth, as a starting point. Alcohol, naturally, might find itself relegated to the gentle easing of the Sabbath (as is my general practice when we’re not enduring a particularly brutal, Jindera summer, as we have this year). There is the prudent passing on the second serve of dinner, more often than not, and the traditional Carcarello family fast from movies that aren’t Christocentric or spiritually edifying.
More salient, in my own fast, is a custody of eye, the heart, the ear and the mind, that strips away the incessant flow and feed of music, podcasts, articles and short form media, such as YouTube. I become so reliant, and childish, in stealing moments and fragments of the day for any combination of the above. As ashamed as I am of it, I am too inclined to fill precious moments of silence and stillness with the agitation of other people’s art and ideas. Cutting away the noise is the most fruitful element of any Lenten observance, in my experience, giving rise to more prayer, more presence, time and patience.
What I’ve noted, is that almost no-one talks about a plain and obvious truth about our Lenten fasts: that more often than not, they are offer us a wondrous repose, and a sense of liberation, from the blessings that can become burdens, and the sensory siren song that becomes our shackles.
First and foremost, one must admit that abstinence can be far easier than temperance. Cutting back, or cutting down, lacks the clarity and simplicity of cutting off. Those who have ever tried a ketogenic diet may attest to the resolute, delightful, perhaps easy abandonment of carbs and sweets, once the decision is made, and the body quickly learns to find its satiety in fattier, more wholesome fare. The palate shifts, and the fickle craving and crawling to quick hits of sugars and starches passes, as a new satisfaction sets in.
As a new nourishment finds purchase and purpose, the old fades and you begin to wonder why you ever did things any differently. The secret of Lent is, I believe, that we often feel much the same, enlightened as we are by taming the world, the flesh and the devil, and buoyed by the spiritual disciplines that supplant the intemperate indulgences we now deny ourselves.
The first few days can be challenging. The gnawing, incessant desires and cravings that confront us with the attachments that we’ve fostered for the months preceding… the sense of weakness, the spirit of bondage calling us to the habitual movement of fingertips across glass screens, or a rhythm and melody to capture the ear and the heart… the silence that is pressing, incessant, even obnoxious…
It will all pass. It will bow down before the ‘peace that surpasses all understanding.’ You will revel in the spaces and the silence. You will converse with the Lord, your God, he ‘whom we know loves us.’ You will recoil at the sickly and the saccharine, revelling in the strange justice of hunger. You will read more. Talk to your wife, or your husband in greater depth, with greater devotion. You will sleep longer, and more deeply. And you will know, above all else, that God is good.
In the Letter to the Philippians, we read:
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Should we be surprised that our penances, our obedience, our prayer, our humility should liberate us? Should draw us closer to God, made man? It no longer surprises me, dear reader. His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. May you take up that very yoke and burden with Him this Lent, and find that He has taken your heart of stone, and given you a heart of flesh. I would expect no less. Thanks be to God.