Friends,
When I was maybe twelve years old a student form San Francisco Theological Seminary came to my hometown to work as a intern at my church. There are a lot of things I remember about her: she had a VW Rabbit with a sun roof and vanity plates, for example, and she grew up spending her summers on Nantucket, and claimed to have snorted coke with Andy Summers, who, at the time, was playing guitar for the Police.
What I don’t remember was any kind of spiritual wisdom she certainly must have imparted in her pastoral role (I’m sure this is my fault, not hers), except for this: one time she told me that as a child she used to cheat during Lent by giving up Watermelon, which, of course, was not in season during Lent.
Every year, as Lent approaches, and as I try to come up with something to give up for the season of preparation for Easter, I remember the intern’s confession, and I chuckle to myself. But this year, as my mind inevitably returned to the idea of giving up watermelon for Lent, it struck me that perhaps the intern’s childhood cheating on the Lenten fast might have had some historical precedent.
I don’t know much about who came up with the idea that Christians should fast during Lent, but I do know that food—particularly pleasurable food—has not always been as readily available as it is today; I also know that food would have been in shortest supply during the late Winter and early Spring—which is to say, during Lent. This means that for many people over the years, a Lenten fast meant giving up something that wasn’t so easy to get in the first place. It was a spiritualizing of what already was happening anyway. Like giving up watermelon in March and calling it a fast.
I know there is much spiritual benefit to be derived from temporary austerity. Giving up chocolate, or meat, or booze or coffee for a season is a good and to be commended, but this year during Lent, instead of giving something up, I’m going to take inspiration from the seminary Intern’s watermelon fast. I am going to try to spiritualize something I am doing already —I’m going to make driving my kids to school an act of spiritual devotion. I don’t know how it will work out, but I invite you to consider taking on a similar discipline.
This Lent, consider making an already-regular part of your life a spiritual discipline. Learn to pray while doing the dishes. Observe the living God in the folding of laundry. Mow the lawn to the glory of God. Cook in praise of your Creator. Give it a try, and let me know what happens.
God’s Peace,
Ben