Georgie (10) is now entering the fifth week of her Lenten Nutella fast. Notwithstanding a momentary lapse involving a B-ready bar (which she says did not count because it did not involve applying the spread herself) she has stuck to her temperate task with far greater dedication than I could have managed at her age.
Witnessing this act of self-sacrifice on the part of our daughter, as well as the impressive post hoc rationalisation of her momentary slip, has led me to reflect on the purpose of giving things up for Lent, as well as the seemingly odd juxtaposition of this liturgical season of going without just as Spring begins to re-reveal the full bounty of nature.
Embracing a 40-day period of abstinence has an impressive biblical pedigree, equating to the number of days Moses spent atop Mount Sinai (Exodus 24: 18), Elijah journeyed to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19: 8), and Jesus endured in the desert fasting, praying and being tempted by the Devil (Matthew 4: 1-11). Clearly these are acts most of us cannot hope to emulate. Why, then, do we bother with the making of comparatively trivial changes during this season?
The answer, it seems to me, is to be found in the elision between Lent and Spring (with the word itself coming from the Old English word “lencten” for the Spring season). Allowing ourselves a period in which we are deprived of one or more good things makes us reflect upon, and appreciate all the more, the gifts of life when Easter dawns, just as Spring sees the World gradually wake up from the barrenness of Winter. Lent, then, is not a season to be endured with misery, but rather one full of promise to be embraced with joy.
Matthew Morrison
