“What are you giving up for Lent?”
How many times have we heard that question in recent days? The answers have a great range, both of degree and kind; from the humorous (“hugging my little brother”) to the extensive (“internet, meat, butter, sugar”).
During Lent, the Eastern Orthodox Church fasts from most everything (food wise) that is good: meat, wine, oil, dairy products and fish. The Roman Catholic Church has a less rigorous fast, but just about everyone knows they fast from meat on Fridays (has anyone noticed that McDonald’s advertises its fish sandwich only during Lent?). At the very least, many Christians in liturgical traditions use Lent as a time for some sort of self-denial. And even Christians in non-liturgical traditions will use Lent as a season for spiritual reflection and prayer, and even an opportunity for some spiritual “cleaning house” of those things which hinder our relationship with Christ.
However, we need to be careful not to view our fast as a means of obtaining some sort of holiness in and of itself. It is easy, for me at least, to be caught in the trap of believing that someone who is giving up more than I am is therefore more pious or devout. The reverse trap also exists; one can believe that there is no value in a Lenten fast.
As with many rituals, there is value, not in the ritual itself, but in what the observer puts into it. If one is giving up lots of tempting foods, for instance, but is at heart using Lent as a diet starter, then he or she will get far less out of it than someone who is only giving up one thing, but taking the spiritual aspect seriously.
I have been thinking of the true definition of self-denial. For me, this means getting “me” out of the way so that God can work in my life. Sometimes that means giving up distractions (internet, television, busy work) so that there is space in my head for God to work. Sometimes self-denial means giving up sweets so that I am not constantly thinking about the next thing to put in my mouth and can think upon the real issues in my life. Sometimes fasting means consciously turning off my inner commentary so that God can get a word in edgewise. Rather than analyzing everything according to ME, turning events and thoughts and actions over to God, and asking His help to see them from His point of view.
I have been reading the Screwtape Letters, of C.S. Lewis, in preparation for our book group (more from that book in further posts). I was struck, within the first few chapters, with the number of times Lewis mentions that temptation will strike, not in the form of a massive sin, but in the mere form of distraction, in a variety of ways. The devil is happy as long as we are not concentrating on God. So that is my Lenten Fast this year: giving up distractions, continually, so that I might hear God.
How about you?
Friday, February 8, 2008
Giving Up.
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3 comments:
You know, while the fasts I've chosen are "extensive," sometimes I wonder if God isn't affectionately amused at what a pansy I am-- like, That's all you can bring yourself to sacrifice?
But then I am reminded by words such as yours that a fundamental aspect of Lenten fasting is how it allows us to get rid of distractions and focus on the important stuff.
One of the reasons I gave up recreational internet was because it tends to be a distraction from active engagement with my kids. So I was really proud of myself (oops) for engaging in that particular fast.
Then came Ash Wednesday, and yesterday, during which my typically cheerful children were sick and miserable and whining and coughing and barfing and not eating and not sleeping. At about 2am Thursday morning, as I was sitting up with Marky after he had just barfed all over the bed (and his dad), I was just driven to beg for help from God.
And then I remembered: I desperately need God's grace and help to do this parenting thing, and not just at 2am with a sick baby, and not just during Lent. It is so not about my performance, but very much about God working in and through me.
"Yes, Lord!" I prayed, "I get it! Thank You! Thank You!" We went to bed, and Marky went to sleep, and the rest of the night was pleasantly peaceful.
Then came the morning, when I went into Colin's room to find that he had thrown up in the night and we hadn't realized it, so now I had to clean him up, and he was grumpy about it, and...exclamation point. Right. I get it. I get it. I get it.
Wow! Longest comment ever.
Naturally, both my boys were demanding my attention while I tried to compose it. :)
My favorite quip on this theme is, "I'm giving up my New Years' Resolutions for Lent."
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