"NOT A SAD TIME"

It’s been too long since I’ve written anything here. But now, at the beginning of another Lent, it may be useful to set down a few thoughts. 

CHEERFULNESS

In his Ash Wednesday sermon, our Franco-Algerian priest reminded us that Lent is not meant to be a time of sadness. Coming just after the Old Testament reading from the Book of Joel where we are told to rend our hearts (not our garments) and to proclaim a public fast and massive repentance in the faint hope that the Lord may spare us His chastisement, this might seem just a little bouncy. 

The Israel of Joel was a community, and religion was its raison d’être and what held it together. Communal, and even more so, national, repentance these days seems scarcely thinkable (except perhaps in the new idolatrous religion of Ecology). If modern communications have done anything, it has been to turn us into individualists, in religion as elsewhere. Our sins, we tend to think, are our own. Hence repentance, if repentance there be, is our own. And, mindful of Jesus’ warning against showing off while fasting or praying, we tend to keep quiet about it. And we are often not quite sure what to do about Lent. Unlike Muslims, who keep Ramadan with admirable consistency, we haver and dither: do we “give up” something, like chocolate, or alcohol, or binge-watching Netflix? And if we do, what relation does that have to our relation to God? 

The Church often tells us not to concentrate on Lent as an accomplishment: “making a good Lent” (which we usually fail at). It would be too much like New Year’s resolutions. In fact, listening to the Church may well help us. As Pope Francis reminds us, Lent is quite simply about three things: fasting, praying, and sharing. 

Real fasting is something very few of us do; traditionally the Church told us to give up meat (“carne vale”: goodbye, meat) and replace it with fish, seafood, or vegetarian meals. This is still one way to fulfil that particular obligation. And with moderation: if you are invited to dinner by unbelievers, you should not refuse to eat their pork roast, as that would be showing off. You can always compensate by skipping lunch next day. 

Prayer, though, is more important than fasting. It is in any case the key to a life of faith. Talk to God; argue with God; weep to God; listen to God; it’s all prayer, and it’s the breath of life. He may not always talk; but He always listens, and He always loves. You. 

And sharing is what used to be called almsgiving. Giving to those who need. Not just money, though some of that is always welcome. No, comfort; kindness; respect; a hug; a smile, even; they are all gifts, alms, sharing. 

To come back to our priest: as he said, Lent is the spring cleaning of the soul. You may sometimes find it onerous (incidentally, who still does spring cleaning in the old way, I wonder?); but you don’t do it grumbling, grouching, and kvetching. Housecleaning the soul should, like the other kind, be thorough – it’s when you finally get at those corners behind the stove and at those spiders’ webs in the corners of the ceiling – but cheerful, looking forward to the celebration of Easter. 

You begin with ashes: yes, we’re all headed for the dustheap. But no: it’s not final. You face up to the shit you have done, said, and been, because we all have, at some time. And you sincerely say, out loud if only to your Abba, your Father, that you’re sorry, that you wish you hadn’t, and that you need help not to do, say, and be that in future. 

And then you get out the mop, the broom, the pail, and get to work. Whistling.