2008 Woodie Awards
Giving up on Lent for good
Self punishment should be eliminated
Elizabeth Walker
Issue date: 3/2/07 Section: Opinion
- Page 1 of 1
Ash Wednesday fell on February 21 this year, officially starting the Roman Catholic season of Lent. For those of you raised in Jewish or Presbyterian households, Lent is the 40 days before Easter. Traditionally it was a time of fasting and prayer, intended to refocus people's attention on their spiritual life. Although most people don't really fast anymore, it has become common to "give something up" during Lent. It's like a mini-fast-you give up one thing (not broccoli or homework, it has to be something that you like) and then consciously abstaining is supposed to strengthen your faith. For example, a lot of people give up chocolate for Lent. I also know people who use Lent to shed the extra pounds that they gained over the holidays. Apparently, the religious reinforcement makes it easier to stick to their diets. I used to give up ice cream.
One year, though, I made the mistake of giving up sweets for Lent. No ice cream, no chocolate, no cookies, no birthday cake, nothing. I have a major sweet tooth, and it was pretty hard, but I made it four weeks without eating any sweets. And then I caved.
I remember standing in the girl's bathroom at school, eating a brownie. It was horrible. I didn't even like brownies that much, but I couldn't seem to stop eating it. I'd take a quick, furtive bite, then another. The brownie tasted like sawdust, but I couldn't seem to stop eating it, like the arm that moved the brownie to my mouth was guided by a robot instead of my brain. Half-way through, I tried to throw the brownie away-but I couldn't. I ate the whole thing.
Afterwards, I felt so guilty. This wasn't just a stolen cookie from the cookie jar, this was a sin, and I was a horrible, horrible person. I was like the gum that you scrape off the bottom of your shoe.
I eventually got over the trauma of the Great Brownie Disaster, but it highlights the problem that I have with giving up things for Lent. It seems fundamentally wrong to tie faith to your worst emotions. The whole idea of giving something up is to test your own will-power by creating a scenario where you could fail. The chain of events goes something like this: crave chocolate-reach for candy bar-wait, if you love Jesus, you won't eat the chocolate. If you don't eat the chocolate, you are a good person. If you do eat the chocolate, you are slug bait. Does anybody else see something wrong with this logic?
Maybe I'm just a product of America's have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too culture, but I don't believe that giving things up necessarily makes you a better person. My mini-fast didn't lead to any sense of Enlightenment. This experience made me realize something: I seriously object to associating God with something as petty as whether or not I eat dessert. God should be bigger than that. If you are going to believe in a higher power, why reduce him or her to the level of a cosmic accountant? Faith shouldn't be tied to our mastery of bad habits or our ability to forgo minor pleasures. Certainly, a brownie should not be the cause of a crisis of conscience.
This year, I'm giving up giving things up for Lent. I'm not going to use God as an excuse to diet, or make any promises that I might not be able to keep. Somehow, I doubt the big guy up there will mind.
• Betsy Walker was an altar girl.
One year, though, I made the mistake of giving up sweets for Lent. No ice cream, no chocolate, no cookies, no birthday cake, nothing. I have a major sweet tooth, and it was pretty hard, but I made it four weeks without eating any sweets. And then I caved.
I remember standing in the girl's bathroom at school, eating a brownie. It was horrible. I didn't even like brownies that much, but I couldn't seem to stop eating it. I'd take a quick, furtive bite, then another. The brownie tasted like sawdust, but I couldn't seem to stop eating it, like the arm that moved the brownie to my mouth was guided by a robot instead of my brain. Half-way through, I tried to throw the brownie away-but I couldn't. I ate the whole thing.
Afterwards, I felt so guilty. This wasn't just a stolen cookie from the cookie jar, this was a sin, and I was a horrible, horrible person. I was like the gum that you scrape off the bottom of your shoe.
I eventually got over the trauma of the Great Brownie Disaster, but it highlights the problem that I have with giving up things for Lent. It seems fundamentally wrong to tie faith to your worst emotions. The whole idea of giving something up is to test your own will-power by creating a scenario where you could fail. The chain of events goes something like this: crave chocolate-reach for candy bar-wait, if you love Jesus, you won't eat the chocolate. If you don't eat the chocolate, you are a good person. If you do eat the chocolate, you are slug bait. Does anybody else see something wrong with this logic?
Maybe I'm just a product of America's have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too culture, but I don't believe that giving things up necessarily makes you a better person. My mini-fast didn't lead to any sense of Enlightenment. This experience made me realize something: I seriously object to associating God with something as petty as whether or not I eat dessert. God should be bigger than that. If you are going to believe in a higher power, why reduce him or her to the level of a cosmic accountant? Faith shouldn't be tied to our mastery of bad habits or our ability to forgo minor pleasures. Certainly, a brownie should not be the cause of a crisis of conscience.
This year, I'm giving up giving things up for Lent. I'm not going to use God as an excuse to diet, or make any promises that I might not be able to keep. Somehow, I doubt the big guy up there will mind.
• Betsy Walker was an altar girl.
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