Lent

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Lent is a period of 40 days (actually 46, minus the 6 Sundays that occur between Ash Wednesday and Easter), originally designed in the early church as a time for converts to make final preparations for baptism, which occurred on Easter. The season of Lent revolves around two foci. First, it is a time in which the church considers our human condition, specifically sin and its consequences. Second, it is also a time to consider the new possibilities and hope that Christ brings through the resurrection. Lent brings us full-circle, starting with the recognition that, "from dust we came and to dust we return," and culminating in the grand celebration of Christ's resurrection from the dead.

Far too often, those of us who come from a Free-church background have neglected the Christian calendar, and this has been to our detriment. It is encouraging to see a rise in excitement over recovering these traditions, but often "discovery" comes hand in hand with misunderstanding. This treatment by Laurence Stookey greatly aided my understanding of Lent.

In the past much was made of "giving up something" for Lent. At times this was a trivial if harmless self-denial : abstaining from chocolate or attendance at movies. At times it was dishonest: giving up cigarettes because the physician had sternly warned of the dangers of smoking, or reducing food intake because weight loss was desired. In reaction, it has now come into vogue to suggest that instead we should "take on something" for Lent: pay a visit each week to someone who is ill or shut in, add an additional passage of scripture or prayer to personal devotions, or increase charitable offerings for six weeks. None of these is reprehensible; but neither do these grasp the depth of what is meant by Lenten devotion and discipline, if for no other reason than that they are temporary; presumably once Easter arrives, these "add-ons" will be set aside for another forty-six weeks.

The fuller Lenten discipline is self-examination that seeks greater conformity to the mind of Christ, and more effective ministry on behalf of the world (which is what true devotion is all about). In this perspective, Lenten disciplines are not temporary deletions or additions but spiritual exercises that permanently alter us. A budding pianist at a certain stage spends hours practicing scales, and the novice typist again and again keys in: "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." Far from being exercises of only temporary value or even busywork, these disciplines actually alter neural pathways such that years later access to the resulting skills can be gained with only a minimum of effort. By the same logic it is said that once you have learned, you can never quite forget how to ride a bicycle.

Solid spiritual disciplines seek to effect the same kind of permanent acquisition.... [they] are designed to have effects far past the Lenten season and indeed are intended to produce new pathways for devotion and discipline in the same way that the exercises of a pianist or typist create new and enduring neural pathways.

I'm looking forward to participating in the Lenten season. If anyone else is, I'd love to hear what you are doing.

The Cure of Souls

From John T. McNeill's A History of the Cure of Souls...

...the cure of souls is never merely a method, even a method derived from a doctrine, or a task for certain hours in the week, but it involves both the faith we live by and all our daily activities and contacts. (87)

Why?

I've debated for quite a while as to whether or not I wanted to keep a blog. My concerns have always been the same; I'm in a part of my life where my thoughts are still rather formative (read: in ten years I'll look back and think I was an idiot); often, I think I'm a lot more interesting than I actually am; I'm concerned that writing, especially on a medium that exposes you to the world, would been done more as an exercise of vanity, rather than one leading to humility and wisdom.

I suppose that my reasons for actually writing now are similar to those stated by Buechner in the previous post. Autobiography is a form of prayer. Radha and I have become more and more convinced that it is not the fantastic in life that matters most, rather, it is the ordinary, the details. James Joyce made the comment that, "literature deals with the ordinary; the unusual and extraordinary belong to journalism." The bulk of our days consist of menial tasks, taking out the trash, washing the dishes, saying hi to those we pass by, working. The tension arises when we become dissatisfied with this type of life because we yearn for some type of "super-spiritual" existence. We use words like "calling" and "purpose" (often poorly defined, if defined at all) which rarely seem to align with our daily activities and realities.

It's interesting to note that the majority of early church heresies (I'm thinking largely of Gnosticism, Manicheism, etc.) did not deny Christ's deity, but rather, they denied his humanity. These heresies adhered to a strict dualism that denied any value to the material, the ordinary (perhaps, the "secular"). Yet, in the miracle of the Incarnation, deity was united with humanity. The Second Person of the Trinity "came in the flesh," lived among us, ate food, washed feet, and wept. He did everyday, ordinary stuff.

We can spend a lot of time chasing after the spectacular, waiting for the next great moment. In the meantime I'm sure we miss a lot. The details are important. I'd like to pay attention to them, and hopefully in the process pay attention to God. I'd like to make autobiography prayer. That's why I'm going to take the time to share ordinary stuff. Pictures, stories, thoughts, movies, music. I'd like it to be more than entertainment. I hope that it forces me to see what God is doing in my life.