Christian traditions of various types have been placed around me all my life. Even more these days, when I tread paths of some ancient beliefs. At least, I imagine what it’s like to be a pilgrim on those sorts of journeys.
I’m struck by the beauty in Orthodox rituals – from decorous clothing to music to incense. They’re at once simple and opulent. The people regularly practice fasting, as in abstaining from meat, dairy products, olive oil, and alcohol. Right now, during Great Lent, the fast holds fast for around fifty days. And to this cloud of witnessing faithful I have lent my husband.
You might reconsider inviting us out for pizza until after Easter.
Many Protestants decide on something to give up for Lent. The reasons appear to range from wanting to achieve holiness to a remembrance of the sorrow Jesus’ disciples felt after he died. (One of the better articles I’ve read, here on Wikipedia, contrasts and compares several Lenten observances.)
I like what my daughter told me, about the purpose of the fast being preparation for the feast, for the joy to come. In such a sense I tend to look at life, because, you know, life is hard and then we die. But if one has a view of the hardness bearing eternal purpose, well, then, it might just all be worth it.
The only thing I’ve given up for Lent is shoes. I’m trying out barefoot jogging on my treadmill. Apart from blackening my soles, I’m thinking this might be okay. Better than what Asics has bestowed. I need to strengthen muscles in new ways, but first thing I lengthened my stride. Not the same texture as when striking smooth sand at the beach, but I liked it. I remember wanting to run like this while dreamily staring at fields we drove past on vacation.
For me, perhaps, the motivation has ever been freedom. Let’s give up the shackles that have bound our thinking. Let’s dance across the dunes, wind in our hair.
But I did first need to see myself stepping so intentionally onto a path that destroyed me and those around me. I hadn’t believed I could really be bad. Until I saw it, those years ago, I couldn’t mourn. And mourning was good.
It still comes to me in organic ways. When I need it, I guess. Before the feast and joyful exercise, the darker actions of blessed loss and good grief.
Oh, happy fault…
On a totally different note, Deanna, in your dog-book reading, did you read “Big Red” and others by Jim Kjelgaard?
Maybe not such a different note–something about these tales of trial and endurance fits Lent well.
I was just remembering them, 30-some years later, and had an urge to read them again. Wondered if they had been favorites of yours too.
I love Lent. Which sounds wrong, but yet not .
Beautifully written piece.
I remember reading Big Red, and I recall later wondering who the author had been. Thanks, Fresca, for the name! I might find the book again, too.
Deb, I’m just learning about Lent, but I don’t think loving it is wrong at all. Unless maybe someone wears it as a badge of proud suffering, which I very much doubt you do.
I love Lent too.
When I was working in the Catholic Church, I learned that it is a “theologically appropriate” love:
after all, it’s not about being punished, it’s all about liberation through love!
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