Making the Case for Lent

My wife and I started attending an Episcopal Church recently. In all honesty, it's probably the first church we've both been enthusiastic about attending since we got married.

The parish is tucked away on the Northwest corner of Campbell and River, set back amid a grove of Catclaw Mesquite trees native to Southern Arizona. Flanked by a Spanish-style wall on either side of the sanctuary, the scene is complemented by a bright, red-clay-tiled roof. In sum, the church is nothing if not a Southwest embellishment on America's special brand of Anglican.

One of the many things I like about our adopted church is the emphasis it places on intellectual development, and spiritual contemplation. We have visited a good many churches here in Tucson, never quite feeling like we were at home. But when the church announced its Bach Marathon last weekend, it's safe to say my wife was totally on board. Naturally, where the wife leads, I soon follow. I think it's fair to say that the church provides us just the right mix of spiritual reflection and intellectual stimulation.

To its credit, each service at St. Phillip's in the Hills brings an approach to God with the upmost reverence. The Eucharist is observed weekly, and the liturgical elements of the service, including the hymn selections, are traditional. There's something a bit inspiring about reciting the Apostle's Creed every Sunday - particularly when I consider that the creed has existed in some form since roughly the fourth century after Christ.

Having grown up as a Baptist, none of the churches I attended in my youth ever much observed the Christian tradition of Lent. I've long known what Lent is, but I've never experienced Lent to know what it means. Tomorrow morning will be my first Ash Wednesday service.

With much of the St. Phillips congregation set to observe Lent this week, imagine my surprise when I read in the Huffington Post that the observance is on the wane.

And there it is in a nutshell, you see, the trouble with Lent: it feels like this strange, weirdly anachronistic holiday that celebrates things we don't value and encourages attitudes we don't share. No wonder that each year fewer and fewer churches observe this age-old (fourth century!) tradition -- it's too old-fashioned, too "Roman," too medieval for many contemporary Christians to handle.

[Link]

The point is a well-taken one.

Ours is a culture that values instant gratification in all its forms. I don't suppose this makes us any more 'wicked' than generations past. It simply reflects our hour of history. It's a basic fact that our world has never before experienced such an abundance of plenty. From food, to information, to, yes, even health care, mankind is truly living in a moment full of blessing. This is not to say that the embarrassment of riches is well-distributed, or that such lavishness is a good thing. I am merely stating the obvious.

Building on this theme of blessing, the piece in the Huffington Post continues, making the case for the Lenten season:

Yes. I need Lent. I need an absence of gifts so that I might acknowledge the Gift. I need a time to be quiet and still, a time to crane my neck and lift my head, straining to hear again what was promised me at Baptism: "You are mine! I love you! I am with you!"

Given HuffPo's politics, regulars here can imagine my surprise at reading the above. But, in truth, the author nailed it. The world needs Lent, not only because it observes the sacrifice Christ prepared to make for humanity. The world needs Lent because it reminds us that life is about more than the self.

Tomorrow will be my first observance of Lent. I plan to give up carbs, beer, and whiskey. While these would not be difficult for many people to give up, insofar as one can love material objects and comforts, I love my carbs. I love my Sam Adams. And nothing accompanies my evening cigar better than a glass of The Macallan scotch.

In the interest of full disclosure, I haven't given up Mr. Booze completely. We functioning alcoholics need our fix, and wine is an eminently agreeable substitute. But it seemed silly to give up carbs, and not to give up beer when beer is, in fact, loaded with carbs. And when I resolved to give up beer, it seemed silly not to also give up whisky, which, as luck would have it, is also loaded with carbs.

On this "Fat Tuesday" I'm not terribly certain what to expect from the observance of Lent. I'm far too cynical to expect any grand revelations at this point in life. In a way, my only expectation is that the self-denial will be a bit odd. Giving up these basic elements of my existence hasn't happened before - at least not since I was around 21 years old. Now that I'm knocking on the door of my thirties, maybe observing Lent regularly is for the best.

More to come...