
Since 2016, when I felt the call home to Catholicism, I have always written up what I planned to do for Lent. It started as a point-by-point list of what I should do, and what to avoid as part of my penances.
The list has changed in the last four years, but its themes have not: abstain and fast. Pray more. Read the Bible more. Give alms. Do not use social media. Do not eat too much. Cultivate good habits. Delay gratification. Be on your feet more, and be less sedentary.
Of all the things I’ve ever set myself up for, the was always the latter half that were difficult for me.
Interestingly, this year found it easier for me to abstain from meat (mammals and fowl, in this definition). It didn’t feel like a great burden anymore. I’ve practiced the Friday abstinence for a few months now, that I don’t really look for meat anymore at any given day. As I come more and more frequently into the state of grace, keeping the holy days of obligation, too, became rote.
The truth is, it has been a week since Lent began, but I have not kept to my penances, either to the letter or to the spirit. If I were to reflect upon it now, I would say that Lent has always been an excuse for me to ‘kick-start’ my life, turn it around, and achieve my ever-fleeing goals. This is not a bad thing, but it’s not sincere to the purpose and reason for Lent.
I also wonder if I’ve always set myself up to fail, because I always write up penances that take an entire document. I am literally asking myself each year to use this time to somehow, magically change my lifestyle.
I am not really doing any of these for God. I am not really giving up social media and gluttony to offer to God. I am doing them out of vanity most of the time, waived at will whenever I felt like I deserved a break.
That needs to change.
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For anyone wondering, I haven’t really explained Lent at all. Non-Catholics would call us ritualistic and ostentatious. Non-believers (ahem, freethinkers) wonder at all why we do these things for an invisible god for vain purposes.
The liturgical year follows seasons. There is a season of joy and thanksgiving (Advent, better known as Christmas). There is season of rending your hearts, reflecting on your shortcomings, and remembering that we are all dust, and to dust we shall return.
Lent is the time of the year we commemorate Christ’s passion and resurrection. That Christ died for our sins is a core tenet of our faith, and Lent reminds us to hark back to what it means to practice our faith. Christianity isn’t all about posting #blessed on Instagram for every material experience you enjoy. It isn’t all about having leisurely Sunday brunches after church services and having a pastor tell you that ‘singleness is a gift’ and that you should ‘guard your hearts against sexual impurity’.
Instead, during Lent we remind ourselves that we are Christians because we are willing to take up the cross, follow Christ in his suffering, and turn our spirits to his message: love one another. Care for one another. Pray for the people who are suffering and who do not know God.
Lastly, the hardest-hitting of all to me, Lent is a time to reflect on the nature of mercy. We are called to repent, and we are forgiven. But in turn, we must learn to forgive. Someone on r/Catholicism shared a priest’s homily a few years ago:
“When we defend other Christians’ inevitable failures by saying ‘We’re all sinners,’ we’re telling the truth. But we don’t mean it. If I were to ask right now, ‘Who here is a sinner?’ everyone would raise his hand. But when was the last time you went to Confession? When was the last time you asked God to forgive you? We have convinced ourselves that because God’s forgiveness is limitless that we can have it on our terms and not His.
Even if this were true, do we forgive others? Do we really? We might say we forgive them, but we still hold on to it in case we need to use it later. And we pray to God to forgive us as we forgive others. Let’s hope He doesn’t.”
Each time I come around to confession, get absolution, and receive the Eucharist on Sunday, I think myself blameless before the Lord. But I’m quick-tempered and still remember grudges spanning years. Each time I remember the mercies given me, I ask myself:
‘Have you forgiven yet?’
‘Have you forgiven yet?’
‘Have you forgiven yet?’
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… And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…