Last year was supposed to have been the "lent-iest" Lent ever. So what are we supposed to do for the second Lenten season of the pandemic? As I write below in my latest for Global Sisters Report: "The temptation to give up is real."
May we resist the temptation to give up hope this season and embrace the many invitations to let go of the things that make us want to give up.
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On the eve of Ash Wednesday, a comic strip appeared in my
inbox under the subject line "The Lent-iest Lent Ever." In it, a man
and woman stand side by side as the woman looks at a long list in her hands.
The man, coffee cup in hand, casually asks her, "Did you decide what
you're giving up for Lent?"
With a look of mild uncertainty on her face and eyes fixed
on the list unfurled before her, the woman remarks, "First I need to check
the list of things I gave up for the pandemic."
The person who sent me the comic jotted one simple line
below the comic: "With a year like this, what's forty more days?"
Dripping with sarcasm, that wisecrack made me smile in the
face of the larger point the comic was hammering home. After the year we've
had, what more could we give up?
Last year, after all, was supposed to have been the
"lent-iest" Lent ever. From the declaration of the pandemic by the
World Health Organization in March, only a few weeks into the Lenten season, a
new reality and understanding of the fragility of life, the loneliness of loss
and isolation, the need for attentive engagement, and the call to prayer in the
face of uncertainty took hold. The prayer, fasting and almsgiving of that
Lenten season overflowed into the year that has been, creating a sense that
Lent never fully came to a close.
And so, as I returned my focus to the comic my friend sent,
I wondered, "what's the point?"
After a year of grief and loss, isolation and distance,
masks and protocols, what more could these 40 days offer? What could I possibly
give up or take on this Lent? If that list of sacrifices keeps getting longer,
why not just give in and give up?
The temptation to give up is real.
Last Lent, as the pandemic and its accompanying realities
began to gain momentum, the season of Lent took on a surreal air. The Lenten
promises I had made paled in comparison to the ever-evolving reality of life in
a time of pandemic. As a result, I chose to put my Lenten practice aside. At
the time, I felt that by not following through for the full 40 days, I had come
up short in my Lenten commitment.
Looking back on that choice now, though, I know it was the
right choice for me. The consciousness of God's presence that I longed to
deepen by giving something up for Lent was heightened by the discernment to
once again embrace the comfort of what I was going without. My attention was
needed elsewhere and my ability to be fully present to the situations at hand
was enhanced by my choice to give up on what I'd given up.
That, of course, leads me to this Lent.
By the time that comic came to my inbox, I still hadn't
decided the details of my Lenten practice. There were groups I could take part
in, books I could read, prayers I could commit to, and small actions I could
take on. All of these practices would be good options, yet with a spirit
bleary-eyed from Zoom calls, world news, and other demands, I felt less zealous
about making a commitment and more resigned to endure the season as best I
could.
Looking at the woman in the comic, I wondered: What do you
give up when the thought of doing one more thing is burdensome or the prospect
of adding to the growing list of daily sacrifices is daunting? What do you give
up when you feel like giving up?
The answers to those questions, surprisingly, emerged rather
quickly.
When we feel like giving up, perhaps one of the best things
we can give up is the need to control every facet of our lives. The pandemic
has made strikingly clear that some things are simply out of our control. We
cannot will the world to get back to normal. Uncertainty is more commonplace
these days than we might be comfortable with, but what if we companion that
uncertainty, rather than trying to correct it by controlling ourselves and
others? Relinquishing the need to achieve or to obsess over having everything
in order may in fact be the best thing we can give up. In so doing, we give God
the space to be in control and free ourselves from the illusion that we are
God, remembering instead that God has made us to be human.
If giving up the drive to control is the first step in a
liberating Lent, giving up our penchant to negatively judge is a closely linked
second. Judgment, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing; it helps us to
gain perspective and assess situations. However, when we recognize that our
judgments are unkind and uncharitable, undergirded by a need to control or
lessen the "other," it's time to give them up. Just as with control,
this "giving up" of judgments is easier said than done. Being able to
relinquish our negative feelings and lay our judgments aside for the benefit of
others and ourselves is a process of self-actualization, which takes both
honesty and humility as we grow in self-awareness and face our imperfections.
If we can give up the need to pass judgment, we can grow closer to the union to
which God calls us and gain new perspective on the loving way God sees all of
us, even those we can't stand.
By letting go of the temptation to control and judge in our
daily lives, we will hopefully find ourselves freer to face the attachments of
our egos and the drive to hold tightly to the power, glory and entitlement the
world promises. Indeed, these promises are the falsehoods we confront when we
embrace prayer, fasting and almsgiving in the season of Lent. In and through
these practices we recognize our reliance on God, raising our consciousness and
giving up what stands in the way of a deeper relationship with God.
Deepening our relationship with God, after all, is the aim
of whatever we give up or choose to do this Lent. For that reason, perhaps the
greatest thing we could give up this Lent is the nagging feeling that we should
give up. In this year full of sacrifices, giving up would be a choice to
relinquish hope and to dishonor all that we have been through. To give up on
this season would be to give in to despair and, in the process, to lose sight
of where this Lenten journey ultimately points us — to the hope-filled morning
of Easter.
We carry a lot and, during this Lent especially, we need to
be attentive to what might lighten our load. Maybe we are being called to let
go of anger or hurt, judgement or control, sadness or selfishness, worry or
regret, offering in their place love and compassion both for our neighbors and
for ourselves.
As we press on like the Israelites wandering in the desert, we cannot lose sight of hope and of the One who walks hopefully with us through this season, and every season, of our lives. With God as our companion, we may have to give up lots of things. Some of those sacrifices will be voluntary, while others will not. Still, we journey forward together, giving all we are and all we hope to be to God and finding that no matter the season, God will never give up on us.
