The Renunciation, the Covenant of Ashes, the Horror of Abstinence, The Dejection of Failure. Such is Lent.
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I see a vision. A brilliant light radiates from The Great White Throne. Beside it is a golden table with the Big Book of Life. It’s full of names and notations. A diaphanous Apparition with wings writes someone’s name that begins with ‘H’. It’s a fearful sight to behold.
Abstinence provokes weird images during Lent. Perhaps in dreams they come, or in flashes of prophetic insight. Maybe mine was simply the question she asked Tuesday morning.
“What are you giving up for Lent?”
“The same as last year,” I answer. “Nothing.” I laugh. Heaven doesn’t. Humor has no place in Lent.
She gives me one of those long, silent stares that spares no feelings, “Maybe you should reconsider the repercussions.”
Travails of past Lenten failures flash by. I’m all for holiness, but I detest walking around with a hang-dog look because of having given up some insignificant excess. Chocolate won’t make the cut.
Milquetoast give-ups won’t get it. God demands commitment, a little suffering, a lot of penitence. In my pious past I attempted to follow Biblical advice. I needed chits in the Favor Book. Because look, we never know when ‘it’ is gonna happen. Be ready.
One year I swore to the suggestion of Matthew 5:44. Right…it’s the one where we’re enjoined to “love our enemies, and bless them that persecute us, and pray for those who despitefully use us.” And what happens the next day? Comcast comes calling. Failure.
Then once I chose to follow the advice of Matthew 5:41. Let me refresh your memory. It demands “going the second mile” with folks. Since we no longer walk much, especially with adversaries, the rule is confusingly metaphorical. And this is its problem: it can’t be quantified.
Accordingly, it’s impossible to know when you’ve broken the rule and only gone the ‘first mile’ with someone. Failure is constant. Heaven has no lawyers to negotiate on nuance.
Another time I girded up my loins for assault on two heinous Lenten enemies: anger and reconciliation. You can read about these combatants in Matthew 5:22 and 24.
But the oath of my commitment had barely escaped my lips when I found the newspaper lying in the flower bed, soggy wet. Believe me, Heaven can erase faster than it can write.
I ask my wife, “What are you giving up for Lent?”
“I’m trying a new approach,” she answers. “I’m not giving up, I’m taking on. I’m going to do something good for someone else every day.”
I ask if she would consider adding a couple more declarations to her Lenten vow.
“What’s better than what I said?” she asks.
“Oh, yours is commendable. What about adding Matthew 6:14 and 7:1? Forgiveness and forsaking judgment will get you gold points. They’re diamonds in the crown of every pious saint. The angels of Heaven will applaud you.”
Her look dismisses all doubts: there is no humor in Lent. Needing a haircut was a convenient excuse to leave the house after that comment.
Barber shops are a great place to snack on gossip or hear good jokes. I ask the crowd what they’re giving up for Lent. The usual, mundane ones: sweets, wine, cheese and Snickers.
Except one lady, who vows she’s swearing off sex permanently. Nobody says it, but I’m pretty sure everyone thinks it: she needn’t worry about failure. Heaven itself groans out loud.
Hugh’s mind drifts off into his past premonitions as old men are prone to do. He recites his dialogues with Satan, a frequent visitor on the end of his bed. Seems everyone has premonitions. He says if you want to score for Lent, try Matthew 5:28.
“Isn’t that the one about ‘lust’ in the heart?” I ask.
“Sure is.”
“Hugh, this is the downfall of every man. Avoid it. Relapse is guaranteed.”
Just then my vision of the scorching light, the golden table, The Big Book of Life reappears. The Apparition is entering more names: Himmler, H; Hess, R; Hitler, A; Hun, Attila the. Then, Hearn, B.
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Somewhere the quiet voice of Omar Khayyam whispers: “The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on: nor all your Piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it.”
Maybe repentance is not such a bad idea after all. Good luck with your Lenten pledges. Somebody’s keeping score.
Bud Hearn
February 16, 2018