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Amanda Woodiel looks at how her perspective on Lenten sacrifice has changed over the 16 years since she became a Catholic.


Neither my husband nor I grew up observing Lent. I was an evangelical Protestant and he was, well, a baptized non-churchgoer. Figuring out how to really live Lent is something that has unfolded over the past 16 years of being a Catholic—and I think I’ll still be figuring it out for decades to come. 

When I first started observing Lent, I viewed it as a test of willpower. Could I actually go 40 days without sugar? Without eating out? Without screens? I would choose one thing to give up and go at it with gritted teeth. 

Somewhere along the line I became aware that Lent is actually about three things: fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. So I added some extra prayer time to my 40-day-long willpower challenge. 

Then one year I heard a talk by Father Larry Richards—oh, Father Larry Richards!—in which he pointed out that giving up, say, coffee is not the type of sacrifice called a holocaust—a total offering to God with nothing left for yourself—unless the money you would have used to buy the coffee is given to the poor.

It made sense; it just never occurred to me before. Unless we take the money we would have used and give it away, it just stays in our bank accounts until we use it for something else for ourselves. It’s like forgoing the coffee only to buy myself a sweater later. So an element of almsgiving was added to our family Lent. We made a “poor box” and put it in our living room, every week adding to it the money we would have spent on other pleasures. 

Then one day a wise friend of mine was over during Lent, and I offered her coffee with cream. “Just milk, if you have it,” she responded. I was confused. Had she given up cream for Lent? No, she answered. She just doesn’t have cream in Lent. 

“You mean that you have more than one fasting practice?” I asked, slack-jawed. I came to learn that as a general rule during Lent she chooses not to eat out, not to have dessert, not to put cream in her coffee, and other practices that reflect the subdued spirit of the season. None of this was disclosed in a prideful way. It was just the way she lived. She would not have even told me about it had I not pressed her. Mind blown. 

 

black coffee and coffee with cream sitting in a bed of coffee beans

 

We’ve spent several years living Lent as a family with constricted pleasures of life: generally speaking, no screens, treats, or eating out. My dear children naturally live it better than I: one daughter wears her least favorite pants on Fridays in Lent and another son chooses to drink out of glass cups in Lent (he prefers plastic). 

These are things that still never occur to me, and hearing my children practice this on their own initiative edifies me and challenges me. This year I realized that I needed to conquer the pride that comes from successfully giving up this or that and instead delve into real quiet time with Jesus. After a couple of months of trying to have consistent prayer time only to be thwarted by early-rising littles, staying-up-late teens, and a tired middle-aged body, I decided that if I could get out of bed by a certain time (about 30 minutes before the earliest-rising child), I could reward myself with sugar in my coffee. Giving up sugar in my coffee is a good, but spending time with Jesus is a greater good. Perhaps some year I will be able to give up sugar AND get up early, but that’s not for me this year. 

Today—a few years after the day when I discovered she doesn’t put cream in her coffee in Lent—that wise friend mentioned in an offhand way that a child she babysits had told her she can’t have treats in Lent after being offered one. “I was impressed,” she said. “I don’t know if she said that for love of Jesus or because she was just following the rules.” 

I nodded. But inside I was thinking, “Hmmm. I am 43 years old, and I don’t know that I do my Lenten disciplines for love of Jesus or just to follow the rules.” 

 

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I don’t know that I do my Lenten disciplines for love of Jesus or just to follow the rules. #catholicmom

This has led me to reflect on my Lenten attitudes. Of course “following the rules” can definitely be done for love of Jesus. By all means the two can be one and the same! However, I’ve seen it in my own life when I have followed the rules more as a showcase of willpower (pride) or even as a self-help spirituality to be a “better person” (also pride). How much better to intentionally and consciously offer all of my sacrifices to Jesus with love and a humble heart!

“Lord, this sacrifice I offer to you through your grace. I couldn’t even do it without you. I am weak on my own and hardly even know myself. During this Lenten season, mercifully strengthen in me all that is good, true, and beautiful and root out all that displeases you. Amen.”

 

What about you?

How has your Lenten observance changed over the years? Do you have a way to consciously and intentionally offer Lenten sacrifices?


Copyright 2022 Amanda Woodiel
Image: Canva Pro