letters and lattes

There are some traditions we do just “to do them.” These traditions come with a form of expectancy and repetition, maybe without consideration of why. I suppose it would be fair to say that Lent might also be a little bit like this. If we are not careful, it rolls around in the calendar and we think, oh Lent, again, and we ponder what we might give up. Chocolate? TV? Perhaps a better question as we move into this season is not “What will you give up for Lent?” But rather; “How will you personally participate in this season of renewal (with God/the church)?” It is a big question. 

You might have read the opener and your initial thought is… Lent? What is that? Not all expressions of Christianity observe Lent. I have spent most of my life in various denominations of the Protestant Church, most of which jump into Easter with little pause for Lent. I love what Rich Villodas says about this (see below),¹ I agree, I need it all. For me, it all began in the Catholic tradition. 

There are many moments in the calendar that bring other memories to the fore, reminding us of another time, of who we were and who we are. One significant example for me, was the day of my First Holy Communion and its subsequent attachment to the season of Lent in my mind. For a memory which has become significant for me, I don’t actually remember that much about the day itself. It is like a vignette, not a solid shape, but a feeling, a series of images coloured by senses and emotions. Likely enforced by the few photos I have of that day. 

The reason this memory has become significant for me is that it serves as the first time I felt a sense of true belonging. By the time I came to participate in this Sacrament, at seven or eight, much had happened; my parents divorced and we moved and there was change, chaos, trauma, change and everything was a swirling sea of unfamiliar and unknown. My grandmother, and by extension her Catholic faith and connection to the church, became a source of stability. As I walked down the aisle with my peers, each in our Holy Communion best, ready to partake in the Sacrament for the first time, I felt belonging. This is what the church community is at its best. Where those who were lost, struggling, alone are welcomed into the fold and loved as though they were there all along. 

Many years later I began my teaching career in a Catholic school and, in many ways, it felt like coming home. Moments of tradition, of prayers and rituals of Mass, would bring back memories. It warmed my heart to think of these moments I had let slip from my memory. Midnight Mass with my grandmother, her prayers to the Saints, genuflecting, Holy Water, Catholic iconography, the Eucharist.

In Lent we prepare for Easter. We look towards the Cross and the resurrection, holding in equal measure hope and sorrow. The traditional themes of Lent are ‘fasting, prayer and almsgiving.’ In the season of Lent we focus on repentance, renewal and community. Importantly, not just the work we do on our own and for ourselves, but for and with community; including the church and those in need.

Unfortunately our focus can slip to what we are giving up, using this as the central theme and adding guilt, when it was not there, if we struggle. There are other struggles too, where we might ask – 

• Am I just showboating from my soapbox what I would do? 
• Have I rinsed and repeated this ritual in such shallow waters that I’ve no longer allowed it to hold a mirror to my soul? 
• Have I lectured and “passed the buck” to someone else?

This is the risk. The risk when tradition and ritual become a wave we ride out, that we allow the familiarity to carry us like autopilot on the drive home from work. We risk being the bragging Pharisees giving out of our wealth. The talent buried in the dirt. The rich man, walking away in sorrow. This is not just for you, dear reader, this is me talking aloud to myself. 

This week I’ve wrestled with my posture heading into the Lenten season. In the past I have chosen to “give something up, to help someone out.” Giving up my time, talents or treasure but drawing from that ‘fasting’ or ‘sacrifice’ to bless others. Meaning, if I gave up my $5 coffee, that money was donated, not just kept in my account. My time sacrificed from what I want to do (likely, watch TV) is given to help someone else (an act of service). This in and of itself, is good. The fault I’m wrestling with is, am I giving myself all the control? Whereas this Lent I feel that is what I need to surrender. 

I’ve wrestled with the bounds of my control. 

I’ve wrestled in prayer.

I’ve fought, with limited success, for stillness. 

I’ve struggled for meaningful margin.

And so this Lent, in the posture of renewal, I will keep wrestling, fighting and struggling in this way. And I think that’s ok. 

(Side note: I would say giving up time on my phone, but my shame report was 47 min a day last week. Which, honestly, cannot be accurate.)

There is something so beautiful about Lent beginning on Valentine’s Day. As we wear our red and love hearts, symbolising love, we also wear the ashes on our forehead. The greater symbol of love, from dust to dust, there is no greater love than this… ²

Go well

Steph

¹ Rich Villodas, 2023. (Instagram: @richvillodas) 

² John 15:13 (NIV): “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” [This is Jesus talking to his disciples. If you’re new to the Bible, John 15 is not a bad place to start]