A Personal History With Lent 2/25/09

Ash Wednesday is now upon us, heralding the beginning of Lent. Lent is the period of forty days leading up to the Super Bowl Sunday for Christians, Easter (Final Score: God 7, Satan Zip!) Ash Wednesday immediately follows Fat Tuesday, the final day of Mardi Gras, signifying the end of overindulgence. In a nutshell, its time to put away your beads and your booze and reflect on the somber season ahead.

I was raised American Baptist in a primarily Jewish community, so the idea of giving something up for Lent wasn’t on my radar until I was much older. In my church Lent meant listening to depressing, dirge-like music every Sunday. My mother would bring us to a special Maundy Thursday service where my sisters and I would hold our noses for an hour to avoid the stench of lamb that had been prepared in the adjacent Fellowship hall. The term “Good Friday” seemed an oxymoron to me, since what happened to Jesus seemed anything but good. And then Easter would arrive, with baskets of candy, pretty new dresses and the return of triumphant, victorious anthems during church service.

As I grew older and my circle of friends began to include Catholics, I became intrigued by the idea of giving something up for Lent. It was kind of like making a New Year’s resolution that you only had to keep for forty days. I decided to adopt the practice for myself and have done so every year since. Some years I’ve been successful, other years…not so much.

It seems like the most popular thing to give up is chocolate, or for the really brave, “sweets” (a vague term that encompasses everything from cookies to ice cream to
Jell-O!) Giving up sweets is particularly challenging for me since both of my son’s birthdays and my birthday all usually fall within Lent. When your child looks at you with those big cow eyes and wants to know why you’re not eating a piece of his birthday cake, what do you say? “Sorry honey, Jesus didn’t give in to Satan’s temptation and neither will I…Back off!”

To further the agony, my all-time favorite candy, Cadbury Mini-Eggs, are only available during the Easter season. These little beauties are my own personal version of crack. Once the bag is opened, there’s no going back. How many times has my husband had to hide my “stash” of Mini-Eggs to prevent me from overindulging and waking up with a roiling, nauseous, Mini-Egg hangover?

Some friends give up alcohol. I’m an infrequent drinker at best and so it seems like a minimal sacrifice for me. Others give up swearing. Much as I enjoy the occasional expletive, I’ve weaned myself (mostly) from the practice since my kids were born. Someone else suggested giving up coffee. Okay, there’s spirituality and then there’s torture.

Thankfully, my current church suggests adopting a new practice, rather than eliminating one, which seems like a good way to go. Perhaps a little more time spent reading the bible and a little less time on Facebook? In the grand scheme of things, adding daily prayer or increasing my good works probably carries more weight than giving up those evil, awesome, addictive Mini-Eggs. But for the sake of my waistline, not to mention my soul, I think I’ll give them up anyway.