There is No Joy in Warmongering

Ash Wednesday is on the horizon; and soon Catholics everywhere will begin to think about their personal observation of the Lenten season. Some already know well in advance which soft vice they will be forgoing because they have made a tradition of abstaining from the same “guilty pleasure” every year. Others, by comparison, will be making a game-time decision. Regardless of whether or which of these two camps you fall into, I encourage you this year to take a step back and consider why it is that you are engaging in the specific form of self-denial that you have chosen. While you’re at it, perhaps you might ask yourself whether the sacrifice you are making really is the one that Jesus wants you to make.
Lent is a time of prayer and penance; of devoting ourselves to the contemplation of scripture and the enacting of spiritual and corporal works of mercy. It is a time of quiet simplicity that affords us the opportunity to become reacquainted with Jesus and to renew our appreciation of his sacrifice. Fasting can be an important contributor to that simplicity; but it also can be a distraction from it. Rather than focusing on the passion and death of our Savior, we concentrate on counting the days until we can eat our next piece of chocolate or drink our next grande espresso.
Certainly no one can be faulted for looking forward to Easter. But we shouldn’t be anticipating this holiest of days because it marks the end of Lent and our subsequent return to the normal routine. Easter isn’t about maintaining the status quo. Rather it is about new life; fresh starts; in a word, resurrection. If you don’t wake up on Easter morning feeling like you can personally share in the joy of Jesus’ rising, you’ve missed an important opportunity.
I don’t want to miss my chance again this year; and I don’t want you to miss yours either. For this reason, I suggest we all conduct a thorough examination of conscience, and honestly identify the thoughts, actions, and attitudes that frustrate our efforts to become more like Jesus. These aren’t necessarily major offenses; they’re the small things we do every day without even thinking: withholding compliments; forgetting to say thank you; feigning partial somnambulism so that we don’t have to say “good morning” to our neighbors.
Though not quite the same as candy, bacon, or Netflix binging, negative actions and attitudes are still self-indulgences that create for us a sort of comfort zone out of which we are unlikely to venture. Accordingly, giving up these sorts of self-indulgences for Lent might be just as difficult as it is other types of personal extravagances; perhaps even more so.
But, there is a very important difference between forgoing daily negativity relative to forgoing daily pleasures: When Lent is over, you likely won’t hurry out the door with the specific purpose of finding someone to snub or to mentally disparage because of their membership in a particular outgroup. Rather, you’ll wake up on Easter morning having established a new positive habit; having become a person who greets everyone with a smile or someone on whom people can rely to be a good and attentive listener. Perhaps you will have become someone who sees Jesus in others and who allows others to see Jesus reflected in them.
Saint Paul implores us to think of ourselves as being “dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 6:11). Let’s make sure we do both this year: die to sin during Lent and gain new life in Jesus on Easter.