I love Ash Wednesday and I love Lent - the spiritual spring cleaning where all of our fretting, all of our day-to-day frenzy gets put aside and we try to quiet the monkeytalk in our heads and focus, and slow down, and give ourselves time to think, and to pray - to let the busy fields of our lives lie fallow for a little bit, while we repair our tools.
After the past few weeks of election noise, we need it.
Yesterday I asked What are you giving up for Lent?. I got a lot of email responses, and some bloggers responded, too.
Michelle Malkin is considering giving up caffeine.
I could never do what she does all day, without caffeine. Hell, I can’t do it with caffeine!
Don Singleton is not doing enough wrong!
Fr. James Martin lets his college roommate pick his sacrifice.
Brutally Honest said he’s giving up giving stuff up. Sometimes that’s where a person is. I’ve been there. Psalmody helps.
If you’re feeling uninspired, perhaps Deacon Greg’s post will help:
More than ever before, it seems, we live in an age of ashes. This soot is a reminder of the fires that have lit our world – and the embers left behind from so many wars, and so many ruins. Think of the fires of Hiroshima, of London, of Auschwitz, of Vietnam, of Baghdad, of New York.
We are citizens of a world on fire, and this is our residue, our stain.
Yet, even though we bear this mark, and have left it on others, we go on. We hope. We repent. We reconcile ourselves with God. We pray. We rebuild, turning over shovels of ash, to begin again. We believe in something better to come: redemption, and resurrection.
And every now and then, we witness that miracle of renewal. The cities that burned have been rebuilt. A glass tower will one day rise at Ground Zero. Soon enough, we know that after winter, there will be spring.
But first there is work to do.
[…]
A lot of people we’ll meet will notice the ashes and ask: “What are you giving up?” Good question. But I like to remind myself that the first word of “giving up” is giving. It is not truly a sacrifice unless it is also, somehow, a gift. An offering of self, with no expectation of getting anything in return.
[…]
if that seems like too much, try this: Fold a 20-dollar bill and slip it into the poor box. Pray for a stranger – or an enemy. Skip desert and send the money to a bread line. Take time to write a letter to a soldier overseas. Visit the sick, the aging, the shut-in. Light a candle for all those who are lost, frightened, uncertain or alone. Buy a bagel for the homeless woman you see at the train station every morning. Say a rosary for peace.
In short, begin this season of giving up…by giving.
But I’ve quoted him enough. You’ll want to go read his wonderful piece.
Barbara Nicolosi hates Lent, but in a good way.
Related: Lent, 2007
February 6th, 2008 at 3:07 am
I’m going to try (TRY!) to “give up” my Sunday sleeping until the afternoon, and see if I can actually go to church.
TRY. (I’m terrible with things like this–personal commitments like resolutions, quitting smoking, all that stuff. I’m embarrassingly hedonistic.)
February 6th, 2008 at 9:10 am
I was talking to some friends last week and they mentioned that while they do give up something for Lent, they also try to add something positive, like saying a rosary every day or reading a certain amount of scripture each day.
February 6th, 2008 at 1:14 pm
Went to a nice Ash Wednesday service before work this morning. Co-workers all amazed that I’d get up at 5 for a church service. Weird. Folks at Sonic thought I was crazy for ordering a breakfast burrito without sausage.
Giving up meat and sweets this year, which has become pretty standard for me. One year I gave up all non-academic reading and nearly went crazy. Realized then that books had become an idol. Yikes. My church does encourage adding positive disciplines during Lent, so I’m trying to add more Scirpture reading and memorization (which I’m terrible at. sigh). I’m going to try to memorize some of the Song of Songs (my fav book of the Bible) and re-read Dante’s Divine Comedy.
Then, in March, our parish priest is leading a Lenten retreat in the Anza-Borrego desert. We go out to the desert (40 miles from the smallest town, totally out of reach of cell phone service), camp out, explore the famous mud caves, and since it’s Lent, will be hearing meditations during the days and evenings.