Column on Lenten Practices

Lent’s name comes from the lengthening of days that marks the emergence of spring from the cold and dark of winter. It draws its religious meaning from the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness in fasting (Mt. 4:2) before moving into his ministry. Christians are called to be especially mindful of spiritual practices to help us prepare for the climatic days of Holy Week. For many of us, it came to be identified with self-sacrifice in the sense of “giving up something for Lent.”

I grow so tired of the disjunction that “spiritual but not religious” folks make that religious acts are not “from the heart.” Without realizing it, they adopted criticism of spiritual practices as ritualistic and apply them to all religious people. The idea of Lenten spiritual practice is character formation, to work on a bit of spiritual discipline. (I do wonder what it says about my spiritual life that I so often mistype the word spiritual).

All religions have distinctive practices. In some ways religious practices, or rituals, help to define a religion. Without practices, then religious life evanesces into some amorphous mist.

We do not see as rituals as salvific or even important in and of themselves. We perform rituals because they move us out of a our determined to be self-made, to make up faith as we go along, instead of becoming connected to a tradition and a set of beliefs that go far beyond our own precious self. All religions have distinctive practices. In some ways religious practices, or rituals, help to define a religion. Without practices, then religious life evanesces into some amorphous mist. I rather suspect that is precisely that folks who prefer the word spiritual may indeed conceive of faith. Being connected nothing but one’s own feeling state loses the meaning of religion as binding us together in common purpose.

In our time, we do all sorts of diet fasts and abstinence and do juice cleanses. Oh, but a religiously oriented fast as a sign of cleansing and willingness to undergo some deprivations cannot even get a hearing. In other words, we are willing to believe untested, unproven claims for the need to “detoxify” our physical being, but we are unwilling to even consider a regimen of cleaning the deep-seated poisons that we carry within our hearts and minds daily.

Lent stands against the optimistic fiction about our natural goodness. All of us commit acts for which we should, should, feel guilt and shame. Sin and evil are not correlative with mistakes or good intentions gone awry. Repentance here is not a call solely for contrition for sins. It is a call of return, or turning back, but to what or whom: a return to God, our source. Yes, it does include turning one’s life around: in the direction of god. Repentance has an ancient sign of ashes: we are mortal; we are vulnerable to limitations; we are prone to succumbing to temptations. We are imperfect, mistake-prone, and sin-prone. We are not good enough as we are. God loves us for who we are, but we are called to aspire to much more. We can change. God will help us change.

Pope Francis: “whenever our interior life becomes caught up in its own interests and concerns, there is no longer room for others, no place for the poor. God’s voice is no longer heard, the quiet joy of his love is no longer felt, and the desire to do good fades.” At its core, religion moves us beyond self-interest and toward an awareness of transcendence and our frailty. In a country that worships the disciplines of athletes, why can we not devote just a bit of time to improving our character?