Itās funny, writing a book ages ago and then talking about it months later as though itās all still fresh in your mind.
I wrote Bitter & Sweet, my latest book on Lent, during Advent 2020, and I basically trusted God to do the talking since I couldnāt really wrap my head around the whole season while we ourselves were both in the thick of Advent and celebrating the arrival of its sister book, Shadow & Light, to the rest of the world. I kept my head down and my fingers flying, deep-dived into some Aquinas and Chesterton and Augustine, sprinkled in some Tolkien and Lewis for good measure, and crossed my fingers with the hope that something was ultimately coherent.
Iām not kidding when I say I feel like Iām reading Bitter & Sweet for the first time. This morning I read my own words of the introduction out loud to my kids, swearing up and down to them that I wasnāt turning into a Gilderoy Lockhart. Itās been a bit of a relief to read that I still agree with everything Iāve written. Good thing, since itās barely seen the light of 2022 and Lent has yet to begin.
Thereās a question that occasionally repeats itself in all these interviews Iāve been doing. Itās a benign question, one the asker means in all good faith and shared humanity, but it makes me feel a little panicky because not only do I not have a rote answer to the question, I think Iāve given a different answer just about every time Iāve been asked it:
So, what are you fasting from for Lent this year?
I still donāt know. Iāve joked to Kyle more than a few times that this year I want to fast from Lent, since I already feel like Iāve walked through it, Iāve talked about it so much. At a minimum, I want to fast from talking about Lent to other people. Iām ready to just live it, to walk alongside you, my brothers and sisters, in the communal season of penitence and preparation. I want to participate in Lentās invitation. I want to do the action part. Less talking, more doing.
But I still donāt know what Iām fasting from. And I very well may not until Ash Wednesday next week.
Iām grateful that my past self added this chart to Bitter & Sweet for my present self, because the medieval idea of seven cardinal vices āĀ and their corresponding virtues āĀ are the framework for the daily Lenten readings. Iāve been mulling over what it means to deal with pride or gluttony, and that our fasts are meant to let go of stuff so we make more room for the virtues, the humility and temperance. But Iād forgotten about their legalistic cousins, the pendulum swing when we forget grace and make Lent about being a better person or seeing if we can do hard stuff on our own willpower.
Of course I want to be more generous, loving, diligent, chaste. But in my desire for those good things, am I veering over into wastefulness, timidity, workaholism, and prudishness?
Um. Gulp. Kinda.
In the name of loving others, am I not speaking up or saying the things Iām meant to say out of fearful timidity?
In the name of diligence, am I finding too much value in my focus on work (of all sorts)?
The practice of fasting from a less-than-good thing is solely for the purpose of making room for something better. We pause the enjoyment of an appetite or two so that we feast on things that last longer and bring more pleasure. Legalistic self-righteousness tastes just as awful as vice. Itās not where I want to live.
As I mull over my Lenten fast this next week, Iām reminding myself of the simple truth that all fasts in the liturgical calendar are followed by feasts; we donāt fast as an end in itself. We fast to prepare ourselves for something better, and that something better, in this particular season, is Eastertide. We remember that all our stupid vices and eye-roll-worthy legalism donāt best us because Christ conquered death and we now have the grace to make it through life, day after day after day. We donāt have to prove ourselves. We get to be free.
Fasting makes us freer to be ourselves, the true selves weāre meant to be: people full of humility, temperance, chastity, love, meekness, and diligence. Will we screw up? Absolutely. But thatās okay, because it wonāt kill us if we let Jesus do the work.
Practically speaking, Iāve been brainstorming various fasts using the vices as a scaffolding for my ideas. So far, Iāve come up with:
Pride: the bulk of my wardrobe (aka, wearing the same 12 or so things)
Gluttony: no snacks or desserts (aka, only my two daily meals)
Sloth: no sitting while I write (aka, stand at my standing desk and walk during my breaks)
But Iām still not sure. Iāve got a few more ideas, so weāll see⦠Ultimately, we fast to feast, so whatever I fast from, itās only so that Iām well-prepared to feast. And since following Lent we celebrate the loss of deathās sting over a 50-day feast called Eastertide, Iād say itās worth the work of a temporary abstinence.
Have you given any thought to Lent yet? If so, know what youāre choosing to fast from? Iād love to hear.
Oremus pro invicem,
Tsh
p.s. NOTE: The date has been changed due to inclement weather this week! āļø // In the Central Texas area? Come to Fabled in Waco this Thursday, February 24 next Thursday, March 3 at 7:00 pm! My good friend Haley Stewart and I will be chatting about Lent, the liturgical calendar, and whatever else is on our minds. Itāll be casual and chill and hosted at my favorite indie bookshop. Iād love to meet you!
Iām mulling over doing something related to my root sin. Was hoping to come to Fabled but Iām in FW and itās supposed to snow āļø againā¦on Thursday.
Thank you for this post to help get my mind wrapped around Lent. Iām from the big Texas non denom world and in past few year, started dipping my toe into the pool of saints, formation/direction, and advent + Lent so your resources have been incredibly helpful for our family. I still have no idea what to fast. Everything I think of that I would really noticeā¦.well, I donāt wanna!!! š© OR it affects others which feels weird.