At that time Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was hungry. The tempter approached and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread.” He said in reply, “It is written: One does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4. 1-4)
As the season of Lent began last week with Ash Wednesday, many of us were asking ourselves the central question of every Lenten season: “What are we going to give up for Lent?” Creatures of habit that we are, we probably decided on the same things we’ve given up in past years–locking up our sweets and our soft drinks. While it is a good question, it may not be the best question. Some background may help us to see why, allowing us to reap the benefits of Lent in a deeper and in a fuller way.
Historically, Lent began as a period of preparation for Easter, much the same as Advent later became a period of preparation for Christmas. And from the start, it carried a penitential theme, beginning with the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday, a brutally honest symbol meant to get our attention, the words accompanying the ashes purposely sending chills down our spines: “Remember man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return.”
As far as words go, those do a very good job of getting our attention, shocking us with a truth we don’t like to face, the fact that our lives have a terminus, a point where we end. It is a jarring thought, one that is difficult for us to imagine, which explains why we don’t like to give it much thought. If the words don’t break through our denial of the reality–and they should–the ashes carry a serious punch to the gut, a black mark put on our normally pristine and powdered faces, a stark reminder that all the work that we typically do to keep a pretty face won’t matter much in the end when we dissolve into dust.
So, at the heart of Lent is an intent to get our attention, which, as we all know, is a slippery mess, moving and bouncing and dancing all over the place, refusing to rest. It is the same reason that Rabbi Jesus went into the desert–to free himself from distractions and to focus his attention on the significance of the words that he heard a voice from heaven speak to him at his baptism, “You are my beloved Son.”
Having heard those words, he takes time away from the rush and rumble of life to consider what those words meant and what he is going to do with those words. In other words, where he goes now, what path he is going to walk. In the desert, he finds the freedom to focus on who he is meant to be and where he is supposed to go.
That was his primary goal in getting to the desert. His fasting was secondary, simply an age-old practice that assisted in keeping the focus on something more important than his stomach. Besides, the desert doesn’t offer much in the line of French pastries and Starbucks coffee. The ancient Hebrew prophets were known to seek out the desert for the same purpose–it kept them honest. They heard the voice of God clearer in deserted places where the whisper of the wind seemed to carry a message from God.
As Lent moved through the ages, people decided that the primary purpose of these preparatory weeks was fasting, which logically led to the question, “What am I going to give up for Lent this year?” In time, a list developed that required little thought, usually consisting of sweets or meats, soft drinks or hard drinks. Truth be told, our Lenten fast became perfunctory, mechanical, like brushing our teeth in the morning, something we do, but not something we give a lot of thought to.
At the end of the forty days, we resume our habits, favoring our sweet tooth or enjoying a beer in the evening, glad Lent is over and glad we stayed with the program till the end, quick to give ourselves some bragging rights and a pat on the back for our Lenten fast. But the question that we really should be asking ourselves is a simple one. “Did it change us?” Are we different than we were before we gave up desserts for a few weeks?
And that is the crux of the matter. It is a better question for us to ask ourselves. Not the question, “What am I going to give up for Lent.” But the question, “How am I going to be a changed person when Lent is over?” We can be sure that when Rabbi Jesus walked out of the desert after forty days, he was a changed person, clearer and more certain of who he was and where he was going in life. He spent his time in the desert wrestling with demons more powerful than candy bars and ribeye steaks.
Tempted and tried to shift his focus away from his Heavenly Father’s will and to his own will, a will for power, for prestige, for importance–the junk food that all of us tend to feed upon because the world wants us to fill up on it–he withstood the persuasiveness and the allurement of doing his own thing and instead committed himself to being the Beloved Son. In the desert, he began his mission of saying no to self and saying yes to his Heavenly Father.
One thing is incontestable. After his long days and sleepless nights in the desert, Rabbi Jesus did not go back to business as usual, glad he was done with those forty days, ready to get back home and have a beer. Instead, he set his eyes on the road ahead, not behind, understanding in a new way that he had a job to do, a life spent in showing to the world the love of his Father, putting before others a clear example of the ways of God in contrast to the ways of the world.
Which leaves us to ponder if our giving up chocolate or cokes or cakes accomplishes that same end–do we exit the desert more decided and determined to do the will of God, refusing to buckle under the pressure of the world to conform to its ways? Are we truly more focused and more forward-looking, as Rabbi Jesus was, surer than ever that we are meant to make a difference in the world by feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and comforting the afflicted?
If giving up snickers or snacks can get us there, all the better. But that’s asking a lot of dollar items on the grocery shelf. As we enter the desert on this First Sunday of Lent, we may want to take a different route, one that is more substantive and more transformative. We can use these forty days to work on changing who we are and where we are going, looking deep into our souls to see the many ways that God is calling us to become his beloved sons and daughters.
And that may require us to do a different kind of fasting, giving up things more weighty than items at a fast food snack bar or in a coin-operated snack machine. For example, can we fast from our anger, that low-grade fever that always has us venting about people with whom we disagree on matters large or small? Can we take a break from our criticism and harsh judgment of people who are different from us and allow them the space to become who they believe God has called them to be, instead of wasting their days and weakening their spirits fighting off our personal attacks and our harsh judgments? We will be sorely tempted during forty days of these exercises, but if we can empty ourselves of our anger in forty days’ time we might find a much more pleasant person when we look in the mirror.
Can we fast from our need to be right, to have the last word, to know more than anybody else? In other words, can we hold our tongue, keeping it inside our mouths instead of always sticking it out at others like brats and bullies on the school yard? Can we fast from our quick answers and subtle put downs, choosing instead to listen to others and to recognize the complexity in other people’s lives? If so, after forty long days of holding our tongue, we may stand a very good chance of changing our outlook and changing our persons.
Can we fast from the fake and false personas that we flaunt on Facebook, stop pushing ourselves to the forefront, cease and desist in convincing ourselves that people need or want to know how interesting our lives are, how exciting our trip to New York was, how wonderful our spouse or our children are? Can we–for forty days at least–practice humility, stop talking about ourselves, and start looking at how others are doing and asking if we can make their lives better in some way? Try that for forty days and it’s possible that we will have a different attitude about our self-importance.
Or how about fasting from having the flashiest iPhone or the most fashionable clothes, saying no to our insatiable appetite for the newest and the best of everything, choosing instead to be satisfied with less, content with the simple? Can we do it? And rather than shopping endless store aisles and stuffing our overloaded closets, can we share more of what we have with somebody who has less than what we have, seeing our blessings as something to be given away, not to be locked away for safekeeping? Practice that kind of generosity for seven weeks and we are likely to show a change that may last longer than our morning makeup.
How about stop binging on mindless TV shows or social media platforms, stop filling our souls with junk food that is going to do nothing to satisfy that inner hunger for connection, for meaning, for purpose, and do the opposite, feed our inner spirit with quiet, with contemplation, with signs of God’s presence in the world and in others around us, finding in that aloneness that we are not alone? That kind of work on our soul is going to show an outward manifestation of a change for the better.
These are just a few of the ways that we can make Lent more meaningful than our usual practice of staying away from ice cream and chocolate chip cookies. The ways in which we can spend these days of Lent in the hard work of saying no, not to chips and cokes, but to our innate selfishness and self-centeredness are many because our work in becoming true children of God is never-ending, not ending until we draw our last breath.
So, as we start Lent, how about we think less about what foods we are going to give up and more about what habits we need to give up if we are going to fulfill our destiny as sons and daughters of the Most High God, the One who called us into being and the One who asks us to empty ourselves of ourselves, filling the lives of others with our love and our kindness, in this way transforming not only our way of living in the world, but changing the world steadily and slowly by the light that we bring into the dark corners of this space we call home.
It’s worth a try. Sure, we can continue to take the easy way out, telling ourselves we’re making huge sacrifices with our giving up coffee and donuts for Lent–and they may be sacrifices–but when compared with changing our negative attitudes and our hostile actions, do they really compare? As we go into the desert, our goal is to become changed persons at the end, walking out of the desert with clear-sightedness and with clear purpose.
As I said, if giving up potato chips and diet Pepsi can get us there, good for us. But it’s good to remember that when the tempter put Rabbi Jesus to the test, he didn’t offer him a bag of chips and a soft drink out of the vending machine.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 