Thinking About Lent

Easter comes early this year; so, then, does the season of Lent.

In my growing up years, I didn’t know what Lent was—had never even heard of it. I don’t think the word even entered my consciousness until late high school, when an old, out-of-town friend of mine (my godmother’s daughter, who was Lutheran) told me she’d given up chocolate for Lent, and I happened to be there at Easter when she finally got to have it again. It didn’t take much of it to make her feel rather sick.

Even so, I still didn’t know what Lent was—not really. The idea of it didn’t come up again until college. I remember one night at dinner, in the dorm cafeteria, seeing a girl with a watery black cross on her forehead. I thought it was creepy. I don’t remember who I asked to explain about it, but I recall being told that it was Ash Wednesday, that this girl had been to church and had her forehead marked with ashes in the sign of the cross.

“Oh.” That was about all I could think to respond to this bit of knowledge. I figured this girl must belong to one of the “weird” churches—one of the liturgical ones like Catholic or Orthodox or something. All I knew was that we never did anything special for Ash Wednesday in my church back home. And I still had no way of connecting Ash Wednesday with Lent.

But now, here I am, Catholic, and I still have never had a “true” Lent experience. Even during my years as a Lutheran, Lent was not talked about much; it was just period of time in the church calendar—I don’t think I ever heard anyone in my Lutheran Sunday school class mention “giving up something” for Lent. And last year, though I was preparing to enter the Church, all my focus was on that process and on discerning whether God really wanted me to become Catholic and on waiting to hear from the diocesan tribunal about my marital situation (long story, which I’ll tell another time; suffice it to say it has nothing to do with divorce or annulment).

So this is my first year as a “real” Catholic, and my first time having to really “do something” for Lent.

I’ve been in a real quandary about it for the past several weeks. I know that Lent need not be about “giving something up.” It’s supposed to be 40 days of penance and prayer, in preparation for Easter. I never knew this growing up, but Mardi Gras (the big celebration of excess in New Orleans), is actually the “Fat Tuesday” before the Ash Wednesday—one last time of “living it up” before the time of penance and prayer begins. One thing I know: If I was going to give something up, I would not want it to be something that I’m so consumed with that I would have to binge on it right before Lent and then again after it. That doesn’t seem right.

Then, what to do?

I thought of things I could forgo: reading for pleasure? watching TV? eating chocolate? e-mail and blogging? I suppose any of those things would be something of a sacrifice, but I’m not sure the giving up of any of them would do a whole lot to keep me focused on the Lord. I’d just find something else to take up my time; or, I’d switch to caramel.

On the other hand, I have heard that one can also make a sacrifice of time during Lent, to do something spiritual. For example, rather than giving up TV, a person could commit to saying the Rosary every day. Or rather than giving up reading for pleasure, one could determine to work through a Bible study or other devotional-type book. The idea in all this being that as one takes on this spiritual practice, doing it usurps some of the time one would spend doing other (nonspiritual) things, while at the same time, bringing that person closer to God. To me, this seems far better to fit the idea of Lent than simply “giving up” a particular pleasure.

Correct me if I’m wrong.

In light of that, then, I think I am going to do two things for Lent (besides not eating meat on Fridays): 1) I am going to work through the book Habits of the Soul by Linda Perrone-Rooney. My friend Susanne gave this book to me upon my Confirmation in October. It is a 40-day deal, which involves Bible reading, prayer, and journaling each day. It’s been called “the Catholic answer to The Purpose-Driven Life.” And 2) I’m going to give the Lord my writing—just for those 40 days, to see what He will do with it. I recently had a brand-new idea for a story (novel), and it came into my mind nearly whole. I started working on it last week, and the words just flowed. But I am terrible about disciplining myself to write. If I can tell myself, “It’s just until Easter,” I think I’ll have an easier time. (I want to write more about this topic of writing in another epistle, very soon.)

*****

I am in a women’s apologetics class at my parish. We started our spring session just this past Monday, and as we went around the room giving introductions, the instructor asked us to share what we hope the Lord will reveal to us during Lent this year.

All along, I have had a tendency to view many of the women in that class as being perfect—”paragons of beauty and virtue” is how I’d put it. Because they are all so beautiful, and they do radiate such peace and goodness. But I was amazed at some of the confessions these women made to us, sharing their struggles to live godly lives. There is one woman in particular, whom I first met last year in RCIA (she was someone’s sponsor). The first thing she said upon introducing herself that evening was “I just love the Lord.” And I remember thinking, “Wow. She just told a whole roomful of people that she loves the Lord! I want to be like that!” Every time I see her, she has a smile and kind word for me. She simply glows with peace and love. I know she does quite a bit around the parish—volunteering on various ministries and such—but that’s not what’s so special about her…..it’s the way she so reflects the love of God to everyone she comes in contact with.

Anyway, on Monday in apologetics, she told us how she’d been struggling with unforgiveness and bitterness, pride and gluttony. She cried. This semester’s class is going to be about Mary and the Saints. She said she would like to have a relationship with Mary (and here I’d imagined her as someone who prays the Rosary every day!). She told us that she felt that we women were called to be Mary to each other, to help and guide each other and pray for each other.

She and I talked for a little while after class, and I tried to tell her what I was feeling, but it didn’t turn out right because I didn’t have a real understanding of what her words had meant to me. I do now (sort of). It’s this: First, if someone like her, who struggles with sin just like I do, can radiate God’s peace and reflect His son to me and to others, then there is hope for me to do the same. And if she, who is just an ordinary person like me, can love the Lord so much and can positively glow with that love, then how much more must the Blessed Mother, who was rescued from sin before she could ever have a chance to sin, love her Son, and how much more must she glow with love, for Him and for us. And if we ladies are to “be Mary to each other,” then we really must pray for each other and always have a smile and a kind word………

Maybe this is getting too convoluted.

Anyway, what I ended up telling the group is that I hope God will reveal to me, during Lent, how He wishes me to live now that I am Catholic. This encompasses a whole lot of things, but specifically, I had in mind how I ought to go on about the dual church thing, since I am Catholic and my husband is not. It is getting harder and harder for me to attend both churches. The hardest thing is Sunday school. So right now, I’m trying to discern whether or not I should continue attending the class I’ve been in (at the Lutheran church), whether I should switch to a different one, or whether I should not attend Sunday school at all.

Perhaps this sounds odd, but being a Catholic among Protestants, when the subject of every discussion is Christianity and how to live as a Christian, is not easy—most especially when said Protestants have no idea that I am Catholic. Why haven’t I told them? It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, or that it’s a big secret. It’s simply that I haven’t seen a reason to bring it up. I always imagine that if I were to say anything about it, it would appear I was merely doing it for the shock value—you know, “let’s see how much I can freak people out!” And I have no desire to upset anyone or cause controversy or anything like that. I like the people in my class very much. It’s just that I can’t truly be myself with them, because my identity is so wrapped up in my Catholic faith now. For instance, when the teacher asks, “Are there any spiritual practices you’d like to take on this year?” I don’t feel I can very well say, “Yes, I’d like to pray the Rosary more often, and I’d like to learn how to pray the Divine Mercy, and I’d like to learn to ask for the Saints’ intercession more, and I’d like to read the rest of the books of the Bible……” So I simply say, “I’d like to improve my prayer life.” And that’s fine, but it doesn’t feel completely honest, especially when others in the class feel free to expound on their own stuff.

I am totally rambling, and I am sure I sound like I am whining. Please forgive me. My point was simply that this isn’t easy, and I’m not sure what to do, so I am praying God will show me the answer sometime between now and Easter.

I’ve gone on long enough for tonight. Bless your sweet heart if you’ve stuck with me for this long!