Lent and I have never gotten along. Don’t get me wrong. I
love the idea of bettering myself, of breathing deeply. And I can even live
without Pepsi for 6+ weeks. Frankly, I like to think I’m a pretty good apple
during the green robes of ordinary time. But as soon as those purple robes
appear, and you tell me I need to eat two small meals with one regular, I start
freaking out.
I’ve certainly experienced success at “doing Lent” before;
its not like I’m a total Forty Day Failure. In my junior year of college, for
instance, I went to mass every single day at the Cathedral, and did a ton of
social justice work. More recently, I
have lasted a whole forty days with no sweets, or gossip, or eating after
dinner. But at this time of year, when people greet each other with “Are you
having a good Lent,” I get a little twitchy. What is it with me that I can’t
jump into the idea of “doing Lent”? Everyone around me has had a master plan
for weeks, whether Matthew Kelly or the Jesuits or some self-created almsgiving
plan. But I showed up Ash Wednesday with a purple striped dress and a blank
stare.
So I wake on this snow day, already three days behind the
curve, and amid my feelings of inadequacy, I open my inbox to find the
following question from a far-off friend. “What does ‘practice resurrection’ mean to
you?” (Now that I think of it, this friend came along just when I broke off my
engagement many years ago. Talk about a
time in my life when I needed some resurrection!)
The line ”Practice resurrection” is from Wendell Berry’s
poem entitled “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front. ” Makes sense for
ME to find my “Lenten plan” in a poem. Berry
says it this way: “So, friends, every day do something /that won't compute.
Love the Lord. /Love the world. Work for nothing. /Take all that you have and
be poor. /Love someone who does not deserve it.” It’s a mantra I can live with.
I think I have trouble with the grandiose notion of Lent,
the “ashes on the forehead”, “ look at
what I can give up” program, the big push for forty days. I’d like a quieter,
gentler Lent, something to sustain me through the whole calendar of seasons. Its
how I think about weight loss. I want to
make small changes that I can integrate into my daily life. The cabbage soup
diet or fad diets will not last. I guess
I just want my Lent to be DOABLE every day.
Lent is a good reminder, a baseline, a check-up. But we don’t
have to go big or go home. I learned
this watching baseball with my dad: little ball. I ALWAYS play little ball with
life. To me, life is truly a game of moments. Katie says it this way: “Lean in.
Look with your heart. Say yes. Find the magic. Breathe. Create. Re-create. Give thanks. Find joy. Laugh with a student.
Buy a candy bar for a tired clerk. Make a sandwich for a tired kid. Plant a garden. Walk on a frozen lake. Be
thankful. Pray. Go out on a limb. Invite someone in. Get off the couch. Turn
someone on to their talents. Believe. Take the challenge.
Little ball is a good way to do Lent. Each moment matters,
and don’t worry about hitting it out of the park. The very last line of Berry’s poem puts it all
in perspective for me: “Practice resurrection.” I’m not as cocky as I sound,
and I don’t think I’m already perfect. But showing up is always the most
important part. Practice makes progress, and forward motion is a great way to
build the Kindgom of God.
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