I have spent time reading some of the more “progressive” Catholic columnists and commentators over the past few weeks. I found a common denominator. They want to help the folks in the pews develop a more “mature” understanding of Lent.
Has Sacrifice Become a Quaint Notion?
They are uncomfortable with traditional notions of Lenten sacrifice. Let me give you a sample of their comments.
“The history of the Lenten fast is a story of flexibility. Today, only Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are days of fast and abstinence. The Catholic Church urges its members instead to focus on generosity toward those in need.”
Here’s another: “If children are encouraged to give up candy and other treats paid for out of their own allowance, they should also be encouraged to give the money saved to the poor…. If they have given up watching television for an hour, they should use the time in service of others, perhaps reading to a younger sister or brother.”
And another: “Lent is a season for becoming more deeply incorporated into the community of faith…for recommitting oneself to the abiding mission of the Church, which includes outreach to the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed, the neglected, the battered, the bereaved, the lonely, the sick, the disabled.” During Lent, “we are called in a particular way to manifest Christ’s love to our brothers and sisters who lack the necessities of life, who suffer hunger, violence or injustice.”
I heard similar sentiments from a young priest at a neighboring parish, where I was attending a weekday Mass. He informed the congregation that “giving up something for Lent without an accompanying act of charity was empty.” He urged parents to make sure, if their children gave up candy for Lent, “that they gave the money saved to the poor.”
Things That Endure
And what’s wrong with the above? Nothing, in and of itself. I can remember one of the Marist brothers who taught me in high school saying it was made more sense, for him, to sacrifice during Lent by giving up his leisure time to drive other brothers in the community to the train station than to give up beer or cigarettes. That sounded logical to me then, and it still does. If we can find a way to link a penitential act to an act of charity, that’s a good thing. As long as the implication is not that it is childish or naïve to practice self-denial for its own sake. (I would say the priest at my neighboring parish came close to crossing that line.) There is an explanation for why it has been a tradition for centuries for Catholics to “give up things” for Lent. Our Catholic forebears were not stupid. G.K. Chesterton has much to teach us in this regard.
Chesterton understood that a tradition endures for a reason:
Tradition may be defined as an extension of the franchise. Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death. Democracy tells us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our father.
Precisely: There is good reason to give more credence to the collective wisdom of the Catholic people down through the ages on the importance of doing penance during Lent, than to the modern “experts” who make light of it. Chesterton:
It is quite easy to see why a legend is treated, and ought to be treated, more respectfully than a book of history. The legend is generally made by the majority of the people in the village, who are sane. The book is generally written by the one man in the village who is mad.
And what has been the collective wisdom of the Catholic people down through the ages about penance and self-denial? Our forefathers understood the meaning of original sin; that we are fallen creatures. They recognized that our lives are going to be filled with temptation; that we have an inclination toward evil that we must overcome if we are going to live virtuous lives and save our souls. And that is true, whether you view the story of Adam and Eve’s fall as fact or allegory.
Sin offers pleasure; it is alluring. To resist it, it is necessary for us to acquire habits of self-denial. We must learn how to turn away from many things that we crave. If giving up candy for Lent helps a young person develop those habits of self-denial, it is a practice that deserves respect, not belittlement. If giving up a meal here and there helps reinforce those habits for an adult, it is a practice to be encouraged. These habits of self-denial may one day help that individual resist the temptation to be unfaithful to his marriage vows, or to make a quick buck by cheating small investors with a phony stock analysis.
Good, Old-fashioned Character Formation
Our Catholic ancestors did not think that God “needed” our Lenten sacrifices for His sake. The world wasn’t waiting for modern theologians to make that point. They understood that the self-denial was for our sake, for our character formation; that it prepares us for the battle to save our souls, to live on God’s terms, not the world’s.
There is a danger in over-generalizing, but it seems to me clear that the people I meet in life who have human dignity, the stand-up people, those worthy of respect and esteem, those who “have their act together,” are those who know how to say “No” to themselves. Duty and sacrifice mean something to them. They live for God, for the Church, for family, for country — for something beyond the pop psychology mantra about “finding oneself” and “self-fulfillment.”
This means that, even in strictly human terms, even if the question of character formation for the purpose of saving our souls were not part of the equation (which is not the case, of course), the habits of self-denial acquired through Lenten penance are of great worth. They account for the difference between happily married Christian men and women taking great satisfaction in the accomplishments of their children at weddings and graduations, and the sad and confused aging yuppies who can be seen on the talk shows explaining the latest stage in their “search for themselves.”
“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, if any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me”(Mt 16:24). Taking up a cross is not something we turn to instinctively. It requires at least as much practice as a golf swing. Lenten sacrifice is part of the drill.
James Fitzpatrick's new novel, The Dead Sea Conspiracy: Teilhard de Chardin and the New American Church, is available from our online store. You can email Mr. Fitzpatrick at fitzpatrijames@sbcglobal.net.
(This article originally appeared in The Wanderer and is reprinted with permission. To subscribe call 651-224-5733.)
