I write this on Ash Wednesday. For people who practice the faith of Christianity, this is the first day of the holiest season of the year. Beginning today and continuing until Easter, many of us will “give something up for Lent.”
Yesterday in two different classes, I talked to my students about that particular spiritual practice of self-denial (choosing to give up something you’d rather keep). I told them I plan to give up red meat and soft drinks for Lent this year. That may not sound like a lot. But if the sea were made of Diet Dr. Pepper or Cheerwine sodas, I would want to be a fish! I shared how some folks I know give up things like golf or sweets or alcohol or tobacco products and how one year I gave up social media. In both classes, that last statement elicited a gasp you could literally hear.
Giving something up for Lent (or any other season or day) is a way of practicing a biblical discipline called FASTING. Father Bruce-John Hamilton of Corpus Christi Roman Catholic Parish in Vancouver said this week: “Fasting is about detaching from that which distracts us from God and goodness. It’s about asking, `What is controlling me that should not be in control?’”
Clearly neither red meat nor Dr. Pepper controls me. But something controls us all. And often, that brings with it undeniably negative consequences. Far too many people in our culture are controlled by anger bordering on hostility (much, maybe most, of the time due to the regrettable current state of politics in our country). Some are controlled by fear (admittedly some fears are reasonable and keep us safe from harm, but often we are afraid of that which is incredibly unlikely and precludes the experience of joy). Some are controlled by greed. Or ego. Or jealousy. Or impatience. Or suspicion of those who are unlike themselves. In every case, we lose something(s) positive because we surrender to something negative. “What is controlling me that should not be in control?”
An additional aspect of fasting has to do with “taking on.” As Father Hamilton said, we detach from something that distracts us from something better. You give something up for Lent in order to make room for (take on) something else. Maybe you give up red meat or soft drinks or desserts or bread or fried foods, and in its place you take on a discipline of exercise. Maybe you give up your daily trip to the coffee shop where you pay $6 or more for a cup of latte and you take on the practice of donating that amount of money to a local charity. Maybe you give up posting angry statements on X or Facebook and take on the practice of intentional listening (a practice of seeking to understand those unlike ourselves and, thus, to build bridges instead of walls). Maybe you give up spending too much time alone and take on the practice of involving yourself in social settings. Maybe you give up a little bit of nightly TV time and take on the practice of journaling, prayer, reading, or simply having uninterrupted conversations with people who need you. Maybe you give up the temptation to speak critically or insensitively or dismissively and take on the simple attribute of kindness. Maybe you talk a little less and listen a little more. We “give up” in order to “take on.”
I had a hamburger this week. And a meat pizza. I drank both a Diet Dr. Pepper and a ginger ale last night. For the next forty days, I’m going to miss those things. I’ll be taking on fish and lots of fruit and tea and sparkling water in their places. My wife is even suggesting that I need to take on regular trips to the Y. Down deep, though, I realize that there are other more substantial things that I often allow to control me. And, they get in the way of better things that could be mine if I were willing to “give up” and “take on.”