VIEW FROM THE PEW
You know how there are some times in life when you are stimulated, happy, upbeat at the prospect of something new or unknown? Anticipated travel, a challenge ahead at work or school, launching some untried project, an eating or entertainment opportunity, a new friendship sparking. Time to step out of your comfort zone, dress up, speak up, cross a threshold.
Well, where we are right now doesn’t seem like any of that. Lent feels more like returning to your old homestead, unchanged surroundings and predictable patterns. It’s time to hunker down, do what’s expected, endure. That’s why the stormy, gloomy weather on Ash Wednesday felt so right, a cold day to seek comfort in well-worn sweatshirt, jeans and socks. It reminded me of small kid times in a climate where Good Friday could be counted on to be dark and dreary just as we were hearing the Gospel climax as the sky darkened when Christ died on the cross.
Despite having been an adult for ages, it’s not rare to continue in our childhood mode, deep sighs and drama that we “have to” abstain from meat on Fridays, and we’re “supposed to” get ourselves to church for an extra Mass or the Stations of the Cross or the Lenten sacrament of reconciliation event. It made a good anecdote that I had to skip snacks while watching the Olympics last Wednesday because I already maxed out the fasting consumption limits. We “give up” life’s pleasures of food, drink, enjoyable entertainment or addictive social media time, as much for bragging rights or as a reboot of lapsed New Year resolutions as it is facing the real reason for the season.
One of the things I love best about being in the “old time religion” of Catholicism is linking myself back through the ages to people who heard God’s word as we do, observed the same passing of a year’s liturgical landmarks through which we remind ourselves of the wonder of our relationship with God. What a difference it was a couple of centuries ago when everyone in the Christianity-dominated culture was compelled to comply with church rules and watched and judged each other’s orthodoxy. There was no malassada to be found if you missed your chance on Fat Tuesday. It wasn’t easy for even a king to cut himself some slack. Imagine living in the Dark Ages when poor people were miserable and starving at the best of times, and yet observed Lenten deprivations. Picture standing outside a church door and proclaiming “I am a sinner” before everyone in town.
From the perspective of our self-indulgent times, how can we imagine that? I don’t wish we could relive Lent down through history; there were some pretty sick excesses of piety. But we have swung so far in the other direction. Once we cleaned our foreheads of the ashes, we emptied our minds of the words: “Remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return.” Who would contemplate death when we live in sunshine, safety and comfort; okay, make that relative safety and comfort. Life is so full of real time commitments — the kids’ ballgames, job stresses, taxes and bills, exercise and athletic challenges we choose, fun times with friends — who has time to think about the end time we all face. Already surrounded by the bright and cheery commercial trappings of Easter, it isn’t easy to hunker down, focus and endure the seriousness of Lent, step out of the fray and into contemplative mode.
But that just reveals that I haven’t started my homework. With the strictures of newspaper publishing deadlines, this column was written a week ago; by the time you read this at the end of the first week of Lent, I’ll have more Lenten Gospel readings under my belt, maybe even something stimulating from the pulpit.
The preacher’s challenge
It must be an overwhelming challenge to be the coach as this critical season gets underway. If you’re a pastor or spiritual director, what can you say in a homily that won’t be the same-old same-old but an idea to inspire people enough that they retain your message after they have left the pews. In these media savvy times, they have plenty of resources; the homily you hear might be a download.
What works for people in this world of organized events, is a focused project like Operation Rice Bowl, a Catholic Relief Services faith-in-action program that combines charitable almsgiving with fasting and prayer. If your parish doesn’t engage, maybe the neighboring one does.
I was always intrigued by a popular Lenten practice in local Protestant congregations. When I compiled a newspaper religion calendar back in the day, there were several weekly “monastic meals” on offer around town where Christians of various sorts would meet to eat soup and bread together and hear a Gospel reading. They would also engage in a discussion about what they took away from the reading; if that’s being done in a Catholic context, I haven’t heard of it. This year, members of the Hawaii Episcopal diocese, as part of their denomination’s nationwide program called “The Good Book Club,” are reading through the Gospel of St. Luke and its sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, from Lent to Pentecost. Talk about organized. They have podcasts, videos, study guides, Facebook postings, daily reflections. I guess you can do it in solitary communion with your electronics, but there are also parish group experiences. If there’s anything like that going on in our Catholic context, I’d like to hear about it.
It’s quite a challenge for a pastor to stimulate people to power through Lent, to fight the good fight, finish the course, keep the faith (to paraphrase St. Paul) and most important, to know that one day soon the Lord will judge us. We’re in the midst of well-known scriptural readings about being prepared, humble and charitable. But are those words too familiar, too soothing for people who feel complacent and entitled?
There have been fire and brimstone prophets and preachers down through history; you don’t see that much anymore except as cartoon figures carrying signs warning “the end is near.” There were some twinges of the dire prophet in the “reflections for Ash Wednesday” posted on the Vatican Radio website. By marking us with an ashen cross “the church gives us a firm conviction that a) we are mortal beings, b) our bodies will become dust when buried and ashes if cremated, and c) our lifespan is very brief and unpredictable … and a strong warning that we will be eternally punished if we do not repent of our sins and do penance.” The homilist is Father Antony Kadavil, who was born in Kerala state in India and has for many years been pastor of a small parish in Grand Bay, Alabama. His homilies are often carried on the Vatican Radio website and emailed to thousands of Catholic pastors around the world.
Father Kadavil reminded listeners that the church adopted an ancient Jewish practice of marking themselves with ashes as a sign of repentance; it’s been our Lent practice since the 11th century. He told his audience that fasting “reduces the excessive accumulation of ‘fat’ in our soul in the form of evil tendencies and evil habits. It encourages us to share our food and goods with the needy.”
A spiritual asphyxia
A theme familiar to electronics users was put forth by Pope Francis in his Lenten message. He counseled the faithful to use “pause,” “see” and “return” as actions through Lent, in text to be found on the vaticannews.va/en site.
I happened to be writing on one of those days when the vog was so thick that just seeing it makes you choke. That’s why I’d rather remind us of the pope’s engaging viewpoint about Lent from his Ash Wednesday homily from last year.
“We are dust in the loving hands of God, who has breathed his spirit of life upon each one of us and still wants to do so. He wants to keep giving us that breath of life that saves us from every other type of breath: the stifling asphyxia brought on by our own selfishness, the stifling asphyxia generated by petty ambition and silent indifference …
“We have grown so accustomed to breathing air in which hope has dissipated, the air of glumness and resignation, the stifling air of panic and hostility …
“Lent is a time for saying no … to the spiritual asphyxia born of the pollution caused by indifference, by thinking that other people’s lives are not my concern, and by every attempt to trivialize life … Lent means saying no to the toxic pollution of empty and meaningless words, of harsh and hasty criticism, of simplistic analyses that fail to grasp the complexity of problems, especially the problems of those who suffer the most. Lent is the time to say no to the asphyxia of a prayer that soothes our conscience, of an almsgiving that leaves us self-satisfied, of a fasting that makes us feel good.
“Lent is the time to start breathing again. It is the time to open our hearts to the breath of the One capable of turning our dust to humanity … It is a time to set aside everything that isolates us, encloses us and paralyses us.”
Wouldn’t that be some imagery to discuss over a monastic supper. Doesn’t that make me rethink being so smart having a heap of fresh, crunchy, tasty salad topped by luscious seafood and taking credit for the Friday rule to abstain from meat. Maybe I need to step out of the cozy seclusion of “meditation” in my pajamas and take in a parish retreat, maybe use the pope’s words as an examination of conscience and get to the penitential service. Definitely it’s time to draw a deep breath, stop reflecting back and march forward into Lent.
