My daughter and I went to see a completely brainless but funny romantic comedy tonight (gotta love $5 movie Tuesdays) and split a bag of donuts in celebration of Fastnacht (Shrove Tuesday), so I suppose I’m officially ready for Lent to begin tomorrow with an Ash Wednesday smudge on the forehead. All kidding aside, I look forward to Lent each year. I like the disciplines of reflection and intentionality that are a part of the 40 days, and I appreciate the opportunity to slow down a little bit and think about my relationship with God, humankind, and creation.
I have long since passed the days of contemplating the “giving-up goodies” aspect associated with this penitential season. Instead, each year I try to think carefully about how I can be more aware — to be conscious of my choices and how my decisions ripple outward in impact.
As a United States citizen, even one who falls solidly in the shrinking middle class, I am among the world’s wealthiest people. I have much, much more than I need, so to my way of thinking that makes me all the more responsible for my consumption. It isn’t fair for me as a person of faith to randomly exercise my privilege without thinking how my choices affect my neighbors both near and far.
Just because I have a laptop (for work), a cell phone (old school freebie), an iPod, digital camera and Nook (hand-me-downs from dear daughters), and a car (a sensible compact sedan) doesn’t make me any brighter, better, or more worthy. It simply means that by accident of birth, I lucked into living in a part of the world that makes it relatively easy to amass stuff, to have access to education and healthcare, and to enjoy an abundance of freedoms.
No, there will be no blithe giving up of something like chocolate or desserts or coffee or television for me. This year I’m leaning into Lent as I would a strong north wind. I hope to use these days and my personal meditation and devotions to contemplate issues of justice, consumption, and equity. Sure,I try to do this on a daily basis, but I want to be intentional about it.
Supposedly it takes about 21 days to change a habit, so I figure 40 days + Sundays should give me plenty of time to shed stuff and count my blessings; hopefully, in doing so, I will experience a lasting change and move a little closer toward my goal of minimalism.
Here’s the plan. Each day during Lent I will commit to giving away one possession. I’ll also spend some time thinking about why I am thankful to be able to share that possession with someone else. Finally, I will tell someone I care about each and every day why I value that person.
So, 40 days – 40 possessions + 40 thanksgivings + honoring 40 relationship = an intentional Lenten discipline. I invite you to join me on the journey and to share how you will be leaning into Lent this year.
I look forward to receiving that ashen cross-shaped ashen smudge tomorrow. For I am dust, I am connected to this earth in a fundamental and elemental way. Thanks to the cross, I am also connected to the God that created, loves, and cherishes all people and all this earth. Donuts are dandy, but I am particularly thankful for dust.