Lent is almost
here, and you know what that means. It
means a season of giving up things, especially indulgences like chocolate, or
movies, or any other action that involves deprivation of favorite activities or
foods. I’m always wary of people who give up coffee
because I know that not only is it extraordinarily difficult for them, but it can
make others’ lives a little touchy to be
around them. Still, it’s the old way of doing things, to give up stuff for Lent that can be enjoyed again after
Easter.
Deprivation is
never fun. The lesson from Matthew addresses a part of this process. If it’s deliberate giving
up, usually it’s a little easier to bear than if someone ordered it. If
the doctor said that I had to give up things like pizza, fried foods, and just
about everything that a good Southern girl would like to eat, that’s
deprivation for me, although for someone else it might not be. I notice, though,
no one ever asks that we give up things like carrots or cauliflower. For me, those would be no problem to give up at
all.
With the coming of
Lent, we first celebrate Ash Wednesday by
going to church and having the mark of ashes put on our foreheads to remind us that
we are just human, particles of dust that come together to form a living, functioning
body until death and decay take over, and
we become dust again. The imposition of ashes as part of our Ash Wednesday
service is preparation for the time when all of us will cease to exist on this
earthly plane, and it forces us to think
about that. It’s something we don’t like
to think about very often. Typically, we usually put off thinking about our deaths as
long as possible.
When we come to
Ash Wednesday, we have ashes on our foreheads; then we come to the annual problem: what to
do for the rest of the day. Jesus told us to beware of practicing our piety
before others. Isn’t wearing ashes out after church a form of practicing our
piety before others? Isn’t it a mark that will seem
to be outwardly religious, even if it’s just for that one day that we are very obvious about it? What about the
number of times someone will come up and say, “Excuse me, but you have dirt on
your forehead.” How do we respond to that? Do we go to a restroom immediately
after church and wash it off so that we aren’t challenged
about the dirt? Another choice is to leave it on and use it as a device to
explain to others why we have it and what it means to us.
What exactly did
Jesus mean about not practicing piety before others? My thinking is that it is
walking around with a pleasant face rather than look like one like I am
enduring some acute pain or agony so that people will offer me sympathy. It isn’t
about trying to look like it’s a substantial
inward struggle to wear ashes, or even to give up coffee. Observant Jewish males walk
around with yarmulkes, and hardly anyone ever says anything about it if they note
it at all. Why would ashes once a year be any different?
I
notice that there are folks who do like to make themselves look miserable. They do it partly so that they could explain
that they are observing the beginning of Lent with a reminder of our
mortality. Is that the right way of
opening a conversation about the Good
News of Jesus? Likewise, people
who know of our religious backgrounds may ask what we’re giving up for Lent. If
we put on a miserable face, some of those questioners might ask themselves if
we’re following something painful or extreme, like self-flagellation or hours
spent on our knees in prayer and repentance when it’s only abstaining from
chocolate or meat on Fridays.
It’s like being on
the second week of a new diet. The novelty of wearing the ashes is over and the giving up (or taking on) the Lenten
practices where the struggle genuinely
begins. The battle isn’t whether or not
to wear ashes during the day after church
on Ash Wednesday; it’s what we do as a
form of penance without making ourselves
so obvious to the rest of the world that
we’re doing it.
Jesus fasted for
40 days in the desert. Did he leave the experience with deep wrinkles on his
face or did he forget how to smile at the end of it? There was no one to give
him sympathy. There was only one to offer him temptations
which would appeal to a need or desire of most humans. The response to
the temptation is the difference between the practice being a performance or being a reality, and there’s where our Lenten problem comes in. Are we doing this for the right reasons?
This week, on Ash
Wednesday, it is every individual’s choice as to how they proceed. Do they wash off
the ashes or do they wear them? If they
wear them, what do their faces say about the fact that they have a mark of dirt
on their face that may cause comment? Are they doing it for the right reason,
as a profession of faith, a sincerely held belief,
or only to attract attention? It is a tough
choice.
What would Jesus decide to do?
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 2, 2019.
No comments:
Post a Comment