PRAYER, FASTING AND ALMSGIVING

One of the old Lenten disciplines admonishes us that if we are to keep a holy Lent, what we need to do is engage in prayer, fasting and almsgiving – all three. One is not enough; neither is two. For each of threes three disciplines requires something different from us. Each requires the other if we are to emerge whole after Lent.

We begin with prayer. When we pray, what we are in essence doing is bringing God closer into our lives. Prayer is a deliberate intention on our part to recognize the God who created and sustains us, that without this God we are unable to be and become the person God created us to be/come. And when we ask God to come closer into our lives, we recognize that we cannot and will not be the same afterwards. So, it is a mighty dangerous thing to bring the Almighty closer to us – frightening, too!

Then there is the admonition to fast: to let go of those wants that get in the way of God and concentrate on our needs, which are always much less than our wants which never end. They disguise and sell themselves as needs. That is why fasting is so important. It allows us to recognize and distinguish wants from needs.

Then when we fast not only from food but from some of those unneeded material comforts we desire, what we are doing is allowing ourselves to understand just how easy it is to succumb to wanting and going after more and more. And, of course, when we do that, we are separating ourselves further and further form God. That is why we need to bring God closer to us through prayer so that God will give us the ability to discern wants from needs and the strength to overcome the call to selfishness.

All of which brings us to the almsgiving. Not only must we want to draw closer to God in and through prayer, not only must we recognize the innate desire to seek after that which can make our life easier, so also must we recognize that we already have more than we ever need or can use. The need to give of ourselves, of our abundance, and blessings, if it is not innate, it is at least demanded once we bring God closer into our lives.

We have been abundantly blessed, you and I. Our God-given talents and abilities that have allowed us to obtain material possessions such as most of the world cannot imagine let alone dream of possessing, they have been given to us to share with those who have been less blessed. Why God has so blessed us is only for God to know. What God lets us know through prayer and fasting is that we must use some of those gifts for others. If we do not, the reason is that we either have not called God closer into our lives through prayer, have not examined our wants and needs through some form of fastening/abstinence/letting go, or both.

Lent is a time, but not the only time, to pray, fast and give our ourselves. Life is that time. But Lent is surely a good time to start what should be a lifetime of living.

TO FAST

Lent is fast approaching, no pun intended. When some of us think of Lent, we think about the Lenten fast, about giving up, about self-denial. Those “some” who do this thinking are usually those who are somewhat advanced in years when spiritual and physical discipline were part and parcel of our Christian life. Today, the idea of fasting has gone the way of the hand lawn mower. When my children hear the word fast, they think in terms of speed and not, if you will, simply slowing down and taking a good look at where you are heading – which is one of the reasons for the Lenten season in the first place. And even for those of us who do fast or do some sort of spiritual discipline during Lent, speed is sometimes also of essence: how fast can we get this over with so that we can go back to an easier life style? Yet we all tend to give at least lip service, if not to the idea of fasting, at least to the belief that during Lent one should be engaged in some sort of spiritual and physical  discipline. Sometimes we even make the effort to be so engaged.

The right intention, of course, is what is important. I may indeed fast during Lent; I may give up all desserts and sweets; I may not eat between meals. If I do so because I want to strengthen my spiritual life by weakening my attraction to physical pleasures, then my intention is well and good. But if my intention is primarily to find a religious excuse to go on a diet, then my intention leaves something to be desired. What is important is that we begin to understand what fasting us all about, why the church encourages us to engage in such spiritual and physical disciplines, and how they might apply to our daily lives especially during Lent.

A friend of my once said to me that he understood fasting as letting go of their things that get in the way of God. I don’t know about you, but there are lots of those things in my life: food sometimes being there at the top of the list. In fact, there are a lot of life’s little and big pleasures that I enjoy that call out to me, want me to make them gods in my life. It is in Lent that the church asks me to try to get a handle on these gods of my life, these pleasures that want me to look out for good old Number One. It is during Lent that I am called to let go of those gods and grab hold of God.

That is not easy. Pleasure has a wonderful way of enticing us to do that which we know we should not do and making it seem all right. Denial, on the other hand, does not come with built-in pleasure. What it does come with is delayed satisfaction, delayed gratification. I used to jog a lot. Most of the time I hated the pain that went with it. But the satisfaction that came with completing a jog made it all worthwhile. Pleasure, instant gratification, comes up front and it is just that: instant. Delayed gratification is also just that: delayed. But it lasts. And it seems that it is only when we delay gratification and pleasure that we get a handle of what we are really seeking. Our souls are restless until they rest in God. But we never discover that until we take and make the time to realize that truth. That is Lent: letting go of the things that get in the way of God so that we can grab hold of God.

HERESY IS STILL WITH US

The earl Church Fathers and Councils believed that they had dealt with all the heresies that could ever plague the church. They were probably correct: they had dealt with them, condemned them, warned us about them. But they never eliminated them. Just because we tell someone that something is wrong does not mean they will believe us. They still want to touch the stove to prove it was hot as we said that it was.

For instance, we want to believe that if we are good enough, do what is good and right, we will be blessed. And we believe that the better we are, the more we will be blessed. We also believe that the bad that comes our way is the direct result of our sins. Good is the result of good. Bad is the result of bad “What did I do to deserve this (good or bad)?” we ask. “I must have done something,” we conclude. Quid quo pro. Right?

Not necessarily. Just as the good that comes our way is not either in direct proportion to the good we do nor the result of that same goodness, so neither is the bad that comes our way. In or humble moments we will grant that we really are not worthy of God’s graciousness. But even in our most penitential moments we find it difficult to accept the fact that any bad that happens to us is not the direct result of some bad that we have done sometime, somewhere.

God’s grace and God’s love do not depend on how moral or immoral we are. Now I will grant that good begets good and bad begets bad. The more good we do, the more likely we will do even more good and be a better person. The opposite is just as true. It is always easier the second time around: doing good or doing something not good. We know that. We do not need some Church Father, some declaration from on high, some lecture from priest or parent: good keeps us out of trouble and bad gets us into it. But we also we know deep within us that God’s grace is simply that: grace, freely given with no strings attached and no reason other than God’s love for us.

We know that, as well, yet somehow, we still think we need to do something to earn God’s love. Whether it is God’s love or the love of a spouse or the love of another, it is always freely given and does not depend on the reciprocity of the one loved. Never! Otherwise, it is not love. It may be something good and wonderful; but whatever it is, it is not unconditional love, which is what is supposed to be.

“Yes, but…,” we insist. But there are no “buts” about it: none whatsoever. And the sooner we learn that, the sooner we will be able to accept the grace of God for what it is: God’s innate and total love for us no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT, what we do or do not do. Our sins have ben forgiven, always will be, NO MATTER WHAT. And our response? “Yes, but…”

Heresy is still with us.

DOGS, FAT CATS AND JELLY BEANS

I love dogs. Dogs love me. I also love jelly beans. They love me, too, as too many of them cause a bulge around my midsection. I don’t like cats – fat cats, skinny cats: cats. I don’t like them because they don’t like me.

The summer after I graduated from college, I sent several weeks working in a parish on Chicago’s Southside. When I arrived home in late August, I discovered that a big, fat cat (she was pregnant) had made her home on the side of our house, As I walked up the steps carrying my suitcase, the cat, who later became known as Gertrude, was sunning herself on the porch. She took one look at me, hissed, and took off. From that moment on, until I left three weeks later to go back to seminary, she avoided me.

A week after our first encounter, Gertrude gave birth to five offspring. As my Mom told the story, as I walked out the front door, suitcases in hand, Gertrude walked in the back door, litter trailing behind, to make herself at home. And she did for the next ten years. Every time I returned home from seminary or for a visit after ordination, I somehow knew I was doing so with Gertrude’s grudging permission.

I truly have nothing against cats. God must have had a good reason to create them, perhaps only to torment me and those of my ilk. Now, lest I incur the wrath of half the population, and especially my little sister who adores them, let me hasten to add that there is probably an internal reason why cats and I don’t get along: after three days in the same house with a cat, I acquire The Cat’s Revenge: my eyes water and my nose runs.

None of this happens with dogs. Dogs don’t make my eyes water and don’t put on pounds like jelly beans. It’s like the problem of evil: how can a good God create something good (a cat) that will cause a good person (me) to not get along? The answer? Beats me!

The reason why cats and I don’t get along should be the least of my worries. What I should really worry about is not why I like dogs and cats don’t like me. What I should worry about are those jelly beans: not why I love them (why not?), but why I eat too many of them when I know I should not.

The love-dog, hate-cat problem is beyond my control. I can’t help it if I like dogs and I can’t stop my nose from running while around cats for too long a time. But I can stop eating all those jelly beans. It is that which is under my control and which I do not maintain control that is my real worry, or should be.

All this is simply a reminder that if you are like me, we often worry more about that over which we have no control and less about the over which we do. And that over which we do is what usually gets us into trouble. We need to worry about that!

NO DIRT IN THE SKY, NO BREAD IN THE BASKET

When I was growing up in the 1940’s outside of Pittsburgh, those who worked downtown had to take two white shirts to work: by noon their collars were black from pollution. As a youngster in the 1950’s I watched my Mom sweep the porch and wash the window sills on a daily basis: we lived on a hill above two power plants that spewed pollution from burning coal. As a young priest in the 70’s I served two steel mill towns whose coke plant stacks blew out pollution on a daily basis, so much so that I had to turn on windshield wipers to get the soot off the windows.

Few citizens complained: “No dirt in the sky, no bread in the basket” they said. And they were right. They also knew that the air they were breathing was not healthy. They – individuals, government, industry – reluctantly got together and cleaned up the air as best they could. No longer would street lights need to be turned on at 3:00 or two shirts taken to work. But it took time because the environment was not on the front page back then; bread in the basket was.

And it still is. Almost every area of the country, the world, in fact, has a recognized environmental problem, in fact, several problems. But, of course, the solutions tend to take bread out of too many baskets. And so they are fought and delayed and railed against, as, sadly, they always have been.

The solutions today are no less difficult than they were forty, fifty, sixty, seventy years ago. The difference today, I believe, is that we have become more conscious of the fact that we have been called to be stewards of God’s creation, responsible for the maintenance of this planet. The Genesis story is a reminder that everything God created is good – and will always be and that as the highest creatures of God’s creation we are ultimately responsible for keeping the good good.

As with peace or love or joy, as with all of life, it all begins with each one of us individually. I cannot clean up the world and neither can you. But I can keep my corner of the world clean. I can waste less, want less, even need less. Sacrifice is always involved. But as the word sacrifice reminds us, to sacrifice means to make sacred, make holy: we understand the holiness of creation as we keep it holy. But, as we very well know, sacrifice is never easy. That is why it tends to have an adverse connotation rather than a positive one.

When we use less, demand less, certainly waste less, we leave more for those who already have less than they need and we leave something for our children and their children. What we discover in the process is that we can have both no dirt in the air as well as bread in the basket – and the air will smell better and the bread will be fresher and will taste better because we can smell it better, and there will be enough for all – more than enough, as a matter of fact!

PRAYER WAITING

My all-time favorite preacher was The Rev. Will B. Dunn, a character created by the late Doug Marlette for his Kudzu comic strip. Will was no ordinary preacher, mind you. He was with it, always up to date, in tune with the signs of the times. He also had a way of commenting not only on the signs of the times in general but on organized religion in particular. I miss him.

An example: Will is on his knees praying. He only got on his knees when he was desperate, otherwise he assumed God would take care of him, preacher of the Word of God that he was Will begs: “Lord, I beseech thee…Grant me…” But he is interrupted by a “click, click” “Uh, sure, I can hold” he says. Then with a scowl on his face, he says, “I hate prayer waiting.”

Don’t we all? I mean, when I am at prayer, I want God’s undivided attention. And, more importantly, I want a response right now: no prayer waiting and no answer-prayer waiting for me. But wait I must, must we all. God always hears our prayers. We know that. We always have God’s undivided attention. Whether or not God has our undivided attention when God is trying to get God’s message across to us is another matter, maybe an even more important matter, but always another matter when Item One on our agenda is Prayer Answered. 

God knows our needs even before we ask. God even knows our wants. What God wants, I think, is for us to recognize those needs, distinguish them from our wants, and then reflect on what we will do to help fulfill those needs, Most of the time God allows us to take care of those needs on our own. God simply gives us the grace to recognize the need from the want and the strength to do our part.

But our prayers are always answered. They are not always answered in the manner or the means we would like. But they are answered. God never leaves us hanging forever: for a while, perhaps, but not forever. My suspicion is that the time between making our needs known to God and God’s response is to be used by us to do what we can do to respond to those needs.

When we have done all that we can do, at least our doing our part, God will do God’s part, but not before. When those in real need came to Jesus, they knew they had a need – to see, to walk, to be healed in one way or another. They had done all they could. Now they were putting the rest into God’s, God’s Son’s hands.

Prayer waiting just might be an apt way to describe prayer. We need to wait a while, take time to get in touch with ourselves so that we can wait on God. Maybe one of the reasons why it seems that it takes so long for God to get around to us is that we don’t give God the time to get to us.

PUTTING THE GOD-IN-US TO DEATH

The Genesis story reminds us that we are made in the image and likeness of God. I will not get into a debate right here about the gender of God or even about what God looks like. It’s a moot point. No one knows. And it is usually beside the point anyway. God is God. Because we are made in God’s image and likeness, we are to be like God and what we do is to reflect what God would do were God doing what we are doing.

For when we do Godlike deeds, what we are doing is keeping God alive in us and God alive in the world around us. The problem we encounter is that we tend to do some ungodlike deeds: we call them sins. The other problem is that we sometimes take all the credit for the deeds that we do, sometimes, even, the Godlike ones, failing to give God the credit for our being able to do the good we do. Sometimes our ego gets in the way.

It often happens, as someone wisely observed, that we put the image of God in us to death. When pride takes over, there is no room for God in our lives, none at all. We become the god of our lives because we did it, not God, not someone else.

The remedy to pride, of course, is humility. Unfortunately, humility can be as false as pride is real. That is the Uriah Heep self-effacing humility that makes everyone around us ill. And there is the self-serving humility that is used as an excuse to excuse us from doing what we should be doing. And there is real, honest humility.

Norman Vincent Peale once observed that people with real humility don’t think less of themselves; they just think of themselves less. That is difficult for a person whose pride leads her/him to believe that s/he is totally or mostly responsible for whatever is being praised. It is also impossible for those who use a false humility to escape responsibility.

Real Christian humility is an acknowledgement that God is truly seen is us, in what we say and do, how we live our lives. True humility is the awareness of how fragile we are, how easy it is for us to succumb to pride, how thankful we should be for the honor of making Gid known to others by our very lives. True humility understands how easy it is for us to put the God-who-lives-in-us to death.

The truly humble person thinks of others first, realizing that each one of us is called to follow Jesus’ example: and that is to live a life of service to others. In living that life there is a priority order: first, to serve God; second, to serve others; finally, to serve ourselves: love God, love neighbor, love self. If we live our life of service in that order, it becomes difficult for us to spend a lot of time thinking about ourselves.

When a humble person thinks about Good Old Number One, that person knows that God is Number One, others are Number Two, and self is Number Three. The temptation, of course, is always to reverse the order, and, sadly, we often do.