“When you practice some appetite-denying discipline to better concentrate on God, don’t make a production out of it. It might turn you into a small-time celebrity but it won’t make you a saint. If you ‘go into training’ inwardly, act normal outwardly. Shampoo and comb your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face. God doesn’t require attention-getting devices. He won’t overlook what you are doing; He’ll reward you well.”
Matthew 6:16-18, The Message
I did not grow up in the Episcopal Church, but I knew what Lent was. Lent was that time when you “gave up something”; my best friend was a Catholic and I observed this piety in action every spring. The first time I attended a worship service in the Episcopal Church was the first Sunday of Lent so I really didn’t get into the discipline of denial until my second Lent. I pondered what would be the right thing to give up that would cause me to pause and reflect on Christ’s sacrifice and…it had to be chocolate. I confess: chocolate is something that caused me to stop and savor. I was determined to follow the guidelines for fasting that the Ash Wednesday passage from Matthew that is read that day: “Go about your business, keep it quiet, and don’t call attention to yourself, whatever you choose,” (my paraphrase).
So, I began. I worked hard at not making a big deal of my chosen discipline, but I suppose I didn’t succeed. Somehow it was observed that I was abstaining from chocolate. I was a high school teacher, and once the word was out, I was bombarded by students who wafted candy bars, drank hot chocolate and offered many gooey temptations. It was agony. The day that the speech team went to an ice cream parlor for celebration after a successful tournament was the low point: nineteen hot fudge sundaes and one Dutch apple. I thought Lent would never end.
But on Easter morning (at 6:30 am after a late Easter Vigil!), there was a knock on my door.
Who in the world was interrupting my sleep? On my doorstep stood three of my speech kids with a veritable chocolate feast in hand: brownies, fudge covered graham crackers, Oreos, chocolate milk. I knew one of them threw up every time he consumed chocolate, and he did so as they drove away to prepare for church. Nevertheless, they showed their love and respect by honoring me, as well as the Risen Christ, that morning long ago.
I have not given up chocolate for Lent since then; I don’t eat it that often now and it doesn’t seem to be sacrificial enough. “Appetite denial” implies food to my mind but I do give up biting my nails; believe me, it stops me in my tracks when I realize that I’ve started to nip one off. These days I try to follow the path that Eugene Peterson’s translation suggests: wash my face, comb my hair and get on with doing something positive. This year I think I’ll take on contemplative knitting; with every inch that I knit on a blanket I will pray a myriad of intercessions and thanksgivings with special prayers for a baby that is coming into the world this Eastertide. Whatever practice you choose, know that God “won’t overlook what you are doing; He’ll reward you well”.
—The Rev. Kay Boman-Harvey
All Saints Episcopal Church, Miami