The Octave of Easter, feels timely, perhaps even a little past time, to be considering The Observance of Lent as our blessed saint wrote in Chapter 49. However, the opening words of this chapter suggest that any time is right for the monastic. Benedict commends a “continuous Lent.” My thought, when I first read that line, was “No! How is this possible? Is a perpetual Lent spiritually healthy? Where is the balance?” When I continued to read, Benedict seemed to anticipate my fear as he acknowledged that few have the strength to live a life of Lent. He continues by describing how the community ought to adhere to the strictness of the season during the season. I read two important lessons in this chapter. The Lenten fast includes sacrifice and action. Giving up temporal indulgences and treating oneself to spiritual delights. Perhaps, Benedict realized that we are unable to appreciate the spiritual until we are purged of the temporal.
Sister Joan Chittister shares a story of a person who sought to learn wisdom. Visiting the sage, the person kept talking about his own ideas, opinions, and thoughts. Eventually, the wise teacher served tea to his guest. The master began filling the other’s cup until it was overflowing. The guest shouted, “My cup is full! It cannot hold anymore!” The sage answered, “Like this cup, you are filled with yourself. I cannot teach you unless you first empty your cup.”
One of our sisters shared a profound lesson that she learned during Holy Week this year. She realized the need, as she said, to “return to zero.” She had tried so hard to do what she was expecting of herself. She was exhausted. However, when she stopped trying then she was blessed with the unexpected. The things that she desired to see were opened before her. She was able to appreciate being in the moment, rather than attempting to create the environment. Lent offers us the season to turn off some of things that compete with our spiritual awareness. The grief of loss may highlight the appreciation of the gift.
For myself, I follow a common routine each Lent. The object of my fast helps me to physically realize my spiritual desires. Each year, I sacrifice coffee. Yep, it sounds strange, but coffee is the ideal sacrifice that helps me to recalibrate my soul’s true desire. It works this way – for the first week, I physically feel the effects of my fast. Mild headaches and conscious decision to change my routine. I substitute juice or water for my breakfast coffee. I really desire the smell and warmth of the cup. Then I realize that my spiritual desire is to smell the sweet fragrance of heaven and the warm embrace of my Lord. A couple of weeks pass, and I realize that I do not think about coffee so much. That reality spins in my mind that I also have a tendency over time to take God’s grace for granted. The routines of life threaten to drown my relationship with God. I pause, confess, and repent of my wantonness. My desire to be near God begins to burn again. During that final week, Holy Week, I begin to yearn for a cup of coffee. I substitute tea, but it is not satisfying. I realize there is no suitable substitute for my relationship with God.
I do not think that I could sustain a perpetual Lent. But I am thankful for the opportunity to empty myself (at least a little) each year so that I may be filled with God’s love.
