Lent is a season in which people typically give something up. Have you given up something for Lent this year? Have you practiced that spiritual discipline in the past? What have you given up? How has that gone for you? Is it hard? Did the time pass quickly? What was it like when Lent was over and you went back to “normal”? At church we have talked about how we have given up the word “alleluia” for Lent in anticipation of the glorious “alleluias” on Easter Sunday. There are many benefits to this Lenten discipline.
Even when we give something up, we may still find that our lives are incredibly full: Full of obligations and commitments. Full of people to keep up with. Full of material possessions that need to be tended to and maintained. In fact, for many of us, life is too full. And maybe too full of that which does not satisfy.
This past summer when we walked the 500 mile Camino de Santiago de Compostela, it was surprising how little we actually needed. Even pared down to the bare bones, we still had things with us, that we carried for 500 miles, that we did not use. We were still too full. And we saw the freedom and liberation in having only what was needed. One set of clothes on the body and one clean set in the pack. One set of clothes on the body and one set on the laundry line. Two sets of clothes. That was it. My husband, Jeff, and I have talked about how we miss the simplicity of the Camino. Very few material things, a pared back itinerary of activity – get up, eat, walk, do laundry, eat, sleep. That was the basic flow. Uncomplicated. A relief, actually.
I am listening to the novel Generosity: An Enhancement by Richard Powers. When I saw it in the library, I thought it was non fiction and that there would be insight into giving and service; ideas that would help me with increasing stewardship and giving at church. After listening to about half an hour of the book and waiting for something to indicate what I had expected, I looked at the box of cds and saw that it is fiction. As it turns out it is a very interesting novel, so far. The main character is teaching a writing course at an art college. He gives the students an assignment: “Convince someone that they wouldn’t want to grow up in your hometown.” The teacher “reads about all the top hazards, tedium chief among them. . . close behind comes isolation, bigotry, aimlessness, crushing homogeny, commercial blight, crimes against every known aesthetic, and the terminal malaise of abundance.” [p. 27] That last phrase caught me. “The terminal malaise of abundance.” All of our stuff – our commitments, activities, belongings, interests – can simply numb us and make us apathetic. It can kill us.
The antidote to this kind of demise can be found in Christianity. We are taught to live materially simple lives. “Consider the lily. . .” And to center our lives on worship, prayer, and service. We are to devote ourselves to creativity and community. To justice and peace. When we follow this path, we steer clear of the “terminal malaise of abundance.” Following the way of Jesus, we also avoid the tedium, isolation, bigotry, aimlessness, and crushing homogeny pointed out by Powers in Generosity.
Giving up something for Lent may be a warm up, a test drive, a rehearsal, for a more thorough giving up that saves us from the “malaise of abundance.” May your Lent be life-giving.
Prayer: We pray for discernment to know what is essential in life. With trust in God, may we dare to divest ourselves of all that saps us of life. May we invest ourselves in relationships and service which change us and the world. Amen.
Lakewood United Church of Christ 