I’ve said it before in this space, and I’ll say it again: Catholics love Lent.
Yes, we grumble about it. We tell the world how much we miss the chocolate or beer or whatever it is we’re giving up. But the complaints are just part of the experience. We wouldn’t trade this season for the world.
Just watch the people pour from the back of the church into long lines as they go forward for ashes. Just watch them defiantly wear their ashes to work or school.
Watch them line up again on Friday — and inch forward for an hour to buy a meal of fish and french fries. They could buy the same platter any day of the week at any bar in town. But they choose to go to the parish cafeteria for their weekly day of abstinence from meat.
And we’ve all known Catholics who attend Mass only for weddings and funerals, and yet feel obligated to give something up for Lent every year. It’s their annual stretch of dieting, or reduced alcohol consumption, or whatever. Lent has that kind of hold even on the lapsed.
Lent poses a challenge, and Catholics — even when they’re non-practicing — want a challenge. Lent marks us with a strong identity, and we want that, too.
We all know the deep biblical roots of the Lenten season. Jesus fasted 40 days in the desert, and so we follow his example. Moses wandered in the desert with the 12 tribes for 40 years, in preparation for their entry into the Promised Land.
Well, we too are on a journey — a time in the desert — but our destination is far more heavenly than any spot on the spinning globe.
This Ash Wednesday, February 18, marks a milestone on my own journey. I’m eager to begin Lent this year. It opens the solemn season that will close with the 40th anniversary of my reception into full communion with the Catholic Church.
There’s that number 40 again. In Scripture, 40 is a number with typological majesty. I mentioned its significance for Jesus and Moses, but it figures prominently also in the stories of Noah (rain for 40 days), Isaac (40 years old when he married Rebekah), David (reigned 40 years), Solomon (reigned 40 years), and Elijah (fasted for 40 days). And I could extend the list!
I cannot help but hope that this coming season of 40 days will be auspicious for me. I pray that it will, by extension, bring great grace for my readers and friends.
In the icy days of an Ohio winter, I’m usually fighting the urge to hibernate. But this year I’m feeling only momentum.
I pray the words of St. Paul: “I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own ... I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:12–14).
