Lessons from Lenten Penances

During the past few weeks, I have found myself wondering what late February, March, and early April are like to non-Catholics, and I imagine that this time of the year must be rather boring. We are far enough away from Christmas and New Years that the excitement of the holidays has thoroughly faded (especially since modern man celebrates the holidays during November and December), and we are still far enough away from summer that they cannot yet get excited about all that that season brings with it (though this year, the weather has allowed for some excitement far earlier than normal). So, when I imagine going through these forty days of the year as a non-Catholic, I must say it seems rather boring; so much so that I do believe I would rather go through Lent than have to live through the doldrums of February and March twiddling my thumbs.

In particular, my preference for Lent would mainly be due to one reason: a time of penance is a great teacher of the soul, and times of quiet in life and nature ultimately cannot be appreciated without the lessens that penance teaches us. In other words, I would be able to enjoy the grayness of February and March if I had already been through Lent, but not without it. If there is one thing that penance particularly teaches the souls, it is exactly the lesson that is necessary to enjoy February or March; namely, joy is possible no matter what circumstances surround you.

The reason penance is so adept at teaching this lesson of unalterable joy is because it curbs our wills. Many in the word today view penance simply as a type of Christian masochism. Indeed, they're only real encounter with penance comes from the likes of The Davinci Code and its self-flagellating albino monk. They see it as something extreme, something that only the fanatics do. And, in their mind, it is a fanaticism that is akin to masochism. For them, penance must be a sort of enjoyment of pain. It is a perversion of the natural order caused by what they view as a similar perversion - dogma. For modern man, there is no way that penance can be good unless you are twisted enough to enjoy pain, and there is no way you can be this twisted unless you also enjoy faith.

However, like many other good things, the modern world totally misses the point of what it criticizes when it attacks penance. It sets up a straw man in front of a strong man and then mocks the scarecrow for its lack of strength. What I mean is this: the modern world says the point of penance is to enjoy pain, when in fact it is quite the opposite. The point of penance is to not enjoy something, and by not enjoying it, curb one's own will. It's particularly the unenjoyable part of penance that makes it worthwhile. By denying ourselves goods of pleasure or comfort, we deny our own will. We learn how to live when things are not going our way, when circumstances in or out of our control are not favorable to us. Most of all, we learn how to be joyful in all of these circumstances.

I was reminded of this important point when reading a passage from St. Therese of Liseiux last night regarding her vocation. For those who might not know the story of St. Therese, she was a young woman in France who fell deeply in love with Our Lord. From her earliest years she wished to give her whole life to Jesus by living a life of prayer in a Carmelite convent. So strong was her desire, that she actually sought to enter the convent at the tender age of 15, instead of the customary age of 21. However, in order to do so, she had to get her bishop's permission. During this process, she was asked by Our Lord to wait. Particularly hard for her was the fact that she wished to enter on Christmas Day, but was asked to wait several more months until after Lent. Here is how she responded to that:

"How did these three months pass? They were fruitful in sufferings and still more so in other graces. At first the thought came into my mind that I would not put any extra restraint on myself, I would lead a life somewhat less strictly ordered than was my custom. But Our Lord made me understand the benefit I might derive from this time He had granted me, and I then resolved to give myself up to a more serious and mortified life. When I say mortified, I do not mean that I imitated the penances of the Saints; far from resembling those beautiful souls who have practised all sorts of mortifications from their infancy, I made mine consist in simply checking my inclinations, keeping back an impatient answer, doing little services to those around me without setting store thereby, and a hundred other things of the kind. By practising these trifles I prepared myself to become the Spouse of Jesus, and I can never tell you, Mother, how much the added delay helped me to grow in abandonment, in humility, and in other virtues." (Story of a Soul, end of Chapter 6, emphasis added)

As she so often does, St. Therese gets right to the heart of the matter. She identifies the very essence of what mortification and penances are all about: "checking my inclinations." And this is what Lent is all about. Lent and its penances are meant to teach us disciples of Christ how to check our own wills, our own inclinations. This time in our liturgical calendar is meant to help us give up our own will and by doing so find true joy in doing God's will. If we continually are trying to impose our will on creation, we will be miserable. We will find that no matter how hard we wish it, we will not simply become rich, or be treated with admiration by all, or even make it any less gray outside. But if we do give up our will, if we do curb our inclinations and in turn join our will to God's, we will find that all these things bring joy to us.

And here is where another aspect of St. Therese's words come in. Note how, in this paragraph from her autobiography, she specifically mentions that she doesn't perform great acts of penance like the saints did. Her mortifications are small, and they are the stuff of every day life. Serving those around her. Keeping back an impatient answer. These are situations that arise each day, and yet they often become moments of asserting our own will. The penitential season of Lent provides us with an opportunity to take advantage of disagreeable daily circumstances. It should teach us that every day we are given chances to give up what we want and accept the gift of life as it comes to us from God. Ordinary life ought to teach us humility, and in turn humility ought to teach us gratitude, and in the end gratitude towards God will make us more in Love with Him.

This is why February and March cannot be enjoyable without Lent, and why I would never give up a Lenten February and March for non-Lenten ones. Through Lent, we learn that our own wills are often out of control. We try to force our desires on the world, and through penance we curb these desires. When we curb these desires, we begin to accept things as they are given to us instead of wishing things were different. And when we begin to accept things as they come, we can truly be thankful for them, praising God for the blessings He grants us in life. Lent, then, is truly an opportunity to learn how to live as God meant us to live, accepting everything from Him in a spirit of joy and love, and sharing this joy and love with those around us. No wonder the Eastern Church calls this time "Great Lent."