Forget the fast.
Turn your medieval Lenten ritual into an act of love.
Today is the beginning of Lent.
God, I dreaded this day as a kid.
Now? I kinda love it.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those Catholics who ‘gives up’ sweets as a forced diet measure to lose a few pounds, or someone who relishes telling everyone how virtuous I am for my fasting. (and I was never the kid that looked forward to tuna sandwiches every Friday for the rest of my life. These days, tuna on Fridays actually reminds me of ritual and makes me smile.)
So, why do I like Lent now so much?
First, like the tuna sandwiches, I believe that seasons, rituals, passages and moments in time, are gifts to us. They remind us of where we came from, allow us to mark time, and prompt us to take part in the mystery of what we are doing on this earth. They poke us.
And I don’t know about you, but being poked and reminded is a gift in and of itself.
I write this from a room in a NY hospital visiting a family member, and on every floor, in every elevator, waiting room, ER corner and cafeteria line, are people serving those who need help.
As imperfect as the health care system is, and as flawed as medicine is, the whole thing is a modern miracle. Treatments, diagnostic tests, surgical options and most of all, kind, caring people whose interest is to get the patients better.
Being poked is a show of love.
That’s what Lent is to me now, a time to remember that being poked is better than not. Someday, the ash phase is coming for all of us. ( I’d like to think of myself as being compost and being food for others). The thing is, not being poked means not being here - in this life, this body, or this hospital room having fun chats with all the lovely people coming and going.
That’s what Lent does for me. It takes me back to when I was a kid during Lent, what I learned, and how that has shaped why I relish it so much now.
As a kid, my mother, a devout Catholic, mother of 10 children, a prolific artist and a dedicated public school teacher of 30 years, had a few things on her plate everyday. Her idea of giving alms, one of the legs of the Lenten stool (the other two are fasting and prayer), was having her kids do things for other people.
We would get home from school and she would ask, “who needs company in the nursing home? Who could use help in the garden, or a meal delivered? Who could use a handmade card to cheer them up?” We would run for the yard as we hated doing these things. We would give anything to play outside in the early spring days, go to friends’ houses after school, or do after school activities. She always won.
So off we went, to the nursing home, the neighbor’s house or the art supply closet. And to this day, I relish the opportunity to help where I can, make cards for others, cook a meal and send it along.
It’s a poke toward generosity. It taught us then as kids, and it has stuck with me ever since.
John O’Donohue (the Irish poet, teacher and author) wrote about generosity as a kind of seeing—the ability to recognize what someone actually needs and offer it without expectation. As kids, we had to be told to do these little acts of kindness, but part of what I love about this Lenten sentiment is that it helps to remind me to be aware, awake and present to the needs of people around me. Just pay attention, and see if there’s a way I can help.
So, in the spirit of Lent, here’s what I’m offering as a loving ‘poke’ - look around.
What do you see? Are there friends, colleagues, family members that could use some help? What if you didn’t even ask?
Send a note, a text. If you are so inspired, pick up some extra Trader Joe’s daffodils, make a brownie mix, a soup, a card. And go out on a limb by offering it up to a person who looks like they could use a smile. Let there be no particular reason - no Valentine, birthday, or holiday greeting that you feel obligated to. And let there be no deadline you need to do it by, or an event to rush to, or nervousness wondering whether it was the right thing.
Just do it.
You’ll be amazed at their surprise and delight, and your own feeling of accomplishment. No number of days abstaining from dessert or wine can make you feel that kind of generous.
amen.
I was raised Christian too, and I can really relate to this. Even though I question many things now, I feel the same as you: when seen from the right perspective, much of what I learned still has value and has shaped my life in a good way.
So beautiful!! @mj