What’s Up With Chocolate and Lent?

      The last thing we need is conflicting messages, don’t you think? Especially when it concerns the State of our Souls.  Imagine my dismay, then, when I came across two different signs at two different churches telling me to do opposite things to observe Lent. What’s up with that?

    I first published this Throwback Thursday Blast From The Past on March 6th 2016.



To Give It Up Or Not . . .  

What’s up with the chocolate?  As I was driving home from work last week I passed a church with a signboard out front that said, “Lent: Give Up Chocolate, Not Hope.”  I kept thinking about it all the way home, both because I think the folks who put up the sign were trying to make an important point, but also because they were (inadvertently, no doubt) undercutting their message at the same time (I’ll explain how below).  I had decided to write about it, and took a picture of the sign on my way to an event at another church (neither was my parish church).  When I got to the second church, as I was running through my thoughts on the first sign, I saw another sign, or really a notice on a bulletin board in the hallway: “Don’t Give Up Chocolate For Lent.”  Hmmm . . . one tells me to give up chocolate, the other says the opposite. Well now, should I or shouldn’t I? What’s a Good Christian to do?

Lent Is A Season Of Hope

  I should mention that the first sign appeared outside a non-Catholic Christian church, but I think that the good point it was making is perfectly Catholic, that is, that Lent is a Season of Hope.  I don’t mean hope in the secular sense of the word, which often refers to little more than desperate wishful thinking.  Christian Hope is the confidence that, however bad things might be in the here and now, we know that Christ will triumph in the end.  The sacrifices and penances of Lent actually serve to reinforce that Hope, by helping us to detach from our hopeless reliance on the things of this world (pleasure, power, politics, money, and even family and friends – not to mention comfort foods like chocolate), so that we can instead attach ourselves to our Lord and Savior. The best sacrifice is when we give up something good, because even the best things in this world are insufficient. Our own best efforts are insufficient without God’s help. I remember reading somewhere the observation that Jesus, God-Made-Man Himself, was put to death through cooperation between the leaders of the highest religion and the officers of the most advanced government the world had yet seen.  That was no accident: “Unless the Lord has built the house, they labored in vain who built it” (Psalm 127:1). The small austerities of the penitential season serve, at least in part, as a reminder that we don’t really need things, but we do need Christ.

Body And Soul

  That’s where I think sign number one is in danger of sending a mixed message.  To my ears, at least, it sounds almost dismissive of the idea of sacrificing something concrete for Lent, as if it’s saying, “If you insist on giving up something go ahead, but it’s not really important; all that really matters is your interior disposition”.  Again, I don’t know if that’s what’s intended or not (one can only say so much on a roadside signboard); I certainly hope not, because while the interior disposition is all-important, the external action helps to form and direct it.  We are both body and soul, and as Christians we worship God made Man, so our faith is incarnational and sacramental. Unlike angels, who are pure spirit, we need to apprehend abstract realities through physical signs. As a result, giving up something without the proper interior disposition is pointless, but maintaining the proper disposition without reinforcement from the world of created things is, in the end, contrary to our nature, and therefore very difficult (which is why Jesus gave us a visible Church and Sacraments).

Maybe I Shouldn’t Give Up Chocolate . . .

  Here’s where the second chocolate sign comes in.  “Don’t Give Up Chocolate This Lent” is the slogan of Catholic writer Matthew Kelly’s “Best Lent Ever” program this year. His website explains:

 Lent is the perfect time to form new life-giving habits and abandon old self-destructive habits. But most of us just give up chocolate. Then, when Easter arrives, we realize we really haven’t grown spiritually since the beginning of Lent.

Lent is not just about giving things up, like chocolate. Lent is about doing something—something bold to become a better husband or wife, father or mother, son or daughter, friend, neighbor, etc.

I don’t think that Kelly is actually opposed to giving up chocolate per se: in his book Becoming the Best Version of Yourself, he relates (very powerfully) how he broke his own chocolate addiction, and uses that as an example of how we can let things other than God become our master. Breaking free of addictions and idolatries in this way is, in fact, the purpose of the traditional Lenten sacrifice. In promoting The Best Lent Ever, however, Kelly is using the giving up of chocolate to represent something else: here it represents the very different problem of going through the motions of a nominal sacrifice without really experiencing anything deeper.


What’s A Person To Do?

     It’s interesting that both slogans are using apparently contradictory messages to make the same (good and true) point: that giving up chocolate (or coffee, or watching sports, or whatever) is not enough, that truly experiencing what the Season of Lent is meant to teach us requires much more.  They both also have the effect of seeming to trivialize the value of such sacrifices. To be fair, Kelly’s program offers plenty of other concrete ways of living out Lent, such as daily meditations, inspirational videos, etc.  The slogan catches the eye precisely because it is so contrary to expectations.  The problem is that many more people, unfortunately, will probably see the slogan than will look into the program.  Let’s hope it doesn’t encourage people to forego Lenten sacrifices altogether.

     As I said before, what’s a person to do? Perhaps there’s no way to fit the both/and nature of a good Christian observance of Lent into a catchy slogan. Is there some pithy way we can say “Lent: Give Up Chocolate to Remind Us That Our Hope Is In Christ Alone”?  Or, “Don’t Give Up Chocolate For Lent If It Doesn’t Help You To Grow In Christ, but do give up something that does”?  However that may be, chocolate is not the issue: we can, in good conscience, either give it up or not.  Whether we participate in Matthew Kelly’s well-received program or follow some more traditional Lenten devotion, however, we should observe this most important penitential season both in body and in soul: let’s allow the Word to become Flesh in our own lives.

Note: Matthew Kelly did continue to use the chocolate line for at least a couple of years after I first wrote this post, but I don’t see it on his website this year (I can’t say whether it’s included in some of his other materials). He instead has the slogan “It’s not what you give up this Lent, it’s who you become”, which expresses the point he seemed to be trying to make before, but without getting embroiled in the Chocolate Wars.

A Smaller, Purer Church?

Fr. Ratzinger Speaks 

“It seems a good time to take a break from all the culture war stuff.”  So I said in the introduction to my last post.  The Lord knows we could all use a break, and yet the hits keep on coming, don’t they? Well, as that witty old atheist Leon Trotsky might have said, “You may not be interested in the Culture War, but the Culture War is interested in you”.  The forces pushing culture war don’t seem to feel the need for a break at all, and they’re coming right at us.

     But the Culture War, you might recall, is only one front in the larger war.  In some earlier posts (here and here) I used the image of a pyramid to illustrate the different levels upon which our society is built, with politics the top (and least important), with culture underlying politics, and religion as the bottom level, the basis for the whole structure. I’ve touched previously on the political and cultural fronts of the war (which is, at root, a spiritual conflict); today we’re going to look at the religious front.

     Let’s start with one of the more famous non-doctrinal statements of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, going back to long before he became pope, or even a bishop: that the Church of the future would be a “smaller, purer Church”.  While there’s no record of him ever saying it in exactly those words, that does fairly accurately sum up a number of statements Joseph Ratzinger made over the years. The earliest and perhaps most famous instance was in a Christmas Day address on German radio in 1969, when the future Pope Benedict XVI was simply Fr. Ratzinger, a theology professor at the University of Tübingen in Germany.

From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much.

   

 

The Crisis of Today and the Church of Tomorrow

We’d be mistaken if we thought that Fr. Ratzinger was advocating a smaller, purer Church, or suggesting we’d be better off if we jettisoned members who don’t live up to a certain standard of purity.  Nor was his address a “prophecy” in the Biblical sense, although the past half century has shown it to be prophetic in the more colloquial sense, in that it accurately foretold what was to come (this was the sense I meant in a previous piece several years ago called “Fr. Ratzinger’s Prophecy”).  In reality, all Fr. Ratzinger was doing was looking at social trends, the “signs of the times” (see Matthew 16:3). He saw a society in which Christian belief was becoming less important with, as a consequence, progressively less social advantage to membership. As the advantage diminished and eventually disappeared, the less committed members would move out, and on to something else:

From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges. In contrast to an earlier age, it will be seen much more as a voluntary society, entered only by free decision . . .

Most of us would probably agree, half a century later, that Fr. Ratzinger was on to something. As for the Church becoming purer, he says:

The Church will be a more spiritual Church, not presuming upon a political mandate, flirting as little with the Left as with the Right. It will be hard going for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek. The process will be all the more arduous, for sectarian narrow-mindedness as well as pompous self-will will have to be shed.

Signs of the Decline

Hard going, indeed: I suspect we’re still only beginning to see how hard it’s going to be.  But let’s go back to the first part here, the “smaller Church”.  Social science data gives us a more tangible idea of what the decline in Christianity looks like.  The Pew Research Center has been measuring religious practice and attitudes for the past several decades.  The decline in Christian belief and practice is very real, as a report published by the Pew Center a little over a year ago shows (In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace  ).  There’s not space to go into all the details here, but you can get the main idea from two of its numerous graphs.

The first graph shows that in the twelve years from 2007-2019 the number of Americans who identify as Christian has declined from 77% or 78%, depending on the which survey you look at, to 71% in 2014 and 65% in 2019.  At the same time, the so-called “Nones”, Americans who have no religious affiliation increased from 16% or 17% to 23% in 2014 and 26% in 2019:

The second graph is even more sobering, because it strongly suggests  the decline will only get worse.  We see every succeeding generation less Christian and more disconnected.  The Millennial Generation comprising those Americans born between 1981-1996 is the first in American history in which less than half identify as Christian:

  Now, it’s likely that many of those Millennials will “find religion” as they get older.  That’s not unusual.  In order even to catch up with the not-terribly-religious Generation X, however, they would need to go through a Great Awakening greater than anything this country has ever seen. We can also be sure that some who now consider themselves Christian will fall away later in life.  Given all that, it’s not unreasonable to project that, a generation or two down the road, Christians will be in the minority in the United States.

Those Who Lap Like Dogs

     So, how are we to square this sobering prognosis with Christ’s promise that the Gates of Hell would not prevail against His Church (Matthew 16:18)? Well, first of all, Christ’s Church is not the same as our local churches.  Large stretches of the Middle East and North Africa that used to be solidly Christian are now peopled overwhelmingly by Muslims; we have no guarantee that the Church in the United States will survive.  We also have no guarantee that individual souls will be saved; even victorious armies suffer casualties, sometimes heavy ones.

     At the same time, a trend is only a trend as long as it keeps going in the same direction. Consider the story of Gideon, in the Book of Judges.  Gideon was bringing out his army to face the Midianites when he heard the voice of God:

The Lord said to Gideon, “The people with you are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand, lest Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, ‘My own hand has delivered me.’ Now therefore proclaim in the ears of the people, saying, ‘Whoever is fearful and trembling, let him return home.’” And Gideon tested them; twenty-two thousand returned, and ten thousand remained. (Judges 7:2-3)

That, however, wasn’t enough:

And the Lord said to Gideon, “The people are still too many; take them down to the water and I will test them for you there; and he of whom I say to you, ‘This man shall go with you,’ shall go with you; and any of whom I say to you, ‘This man shall not go with you,’ shall not go.”  So he brought the people down to the water; and the Lord said to Gideon, “Every one that laps the water with his tongue, as a dog laps, you shall set by himself; likewise every one that kneels down to drink.”  And the number of those that lapped, putting their hands to their mouths, was three hundred men; but all the rest of the people knelt down to drink water.  And the Lord said to Gideon, “With the three hundred men that lapped I will deliver you, and give the Midianites into your hand . . . (Judges 7:4-7)

“Gideon Overcoming the Midianites” by Peter Paul Rubens (c. 1625-1630)

And of course The Lord did deliver Midian into the hands of Gideon, but not as we might expect.  While Gideon and his three hundred blew trumpets, broke jars, waved torches, and shouted, among the Midianites “the Lord set every man’s sword against his fellow and against all the army; and the army fled as far as Beth-shittah toward Zererah” (Judges 7:22).  It couldn’t have been clearer to Gideon and his followers that they didn’t defeat Midian through their own prowess: they themselves were rescued from Midian by the God in Whom they trusted.

Hope in The Lord

     The story of Gideon should give us hope. It is clear we have just about come to that place Fr. Ratzinger foresaw when membership in the Church would no longer confer social advantages; it may even be that we are entering an era when being a Christian is an actual detriment (there are some places, such as academia, where it already is). The fearful and trembling are on their way home, and soon, perhaps, we’ll be down to the three hundred who lap like dogs.  What happens then? Let’s go back to Fr. Ratzinger:

     But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church. Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely. If they have completely lost sight of God, they will feel the whole horror of their poverty. Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new. They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.

   This is where the story of Christ’s Church diverges from the story of Gideon. Gideon and his army chased down the confused and frightened Midianites with the sword; the reduced and purified Church will, instead, offer them a beacon of hope. The remaining Christians will truly need to be the salt that gives savor to a godless world, and the light to “shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16). Ratzinger accordingly predicts:

 It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.

     There is reason for Hope amid the gloom.  Christ’s Church may need to suffer as Jesus himself did on the Cross, but there’s no Resurrection without the Crucifixion.  As St. Peter reminds us:

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while you may have to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold which though perishable is tested by fire, may redound to praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 1:6-7)

Forget the Tech Tyrants: Our Hope is in The Lord

     Welcome to Spes in Domino (Hope in the Lord). This new blog grew out of my efforts to disengage from the giant communications companies that seem increasingly intent on squashing any voices that don’t submit to a certain secular and, increasingly, totalitarian social and political perspective (needless to say, traditional Christian belief and morality lie very much outside of that perspective). I found dropping the likes of Twitter and Facebook to be easy; untangling myself from the many tentacles of the behemoth known as Google is a more complicated task.  
     In my current job there’s not much I can do about the pervasiveness of Google: Gmail, Google Meet, Google Classroom, and a whole series of (admittedly convenient) other tools are furnished by my employer. Ending my personal entanglement with Google is another matter: it’s achievable, but time-consuming and tedious. I’ve begun the process of shifting my email traffic from Gmail to Protonmail, I’m moving documents from Google Drive to Zoho, and I’m looking for ways to replace other Google products as well.
     Among my Google connections are two Blogger blogs, now mostly moribund, except at Christmas time.  Blogger was swallowed up by Google some years ago. As I’ve been looking over all my old blog posts while working to rescue them from the maw of Google I’ve been inspired to resume the regular practice of bloggery.  I’ve reflected on how important it is to keep independent voices in the public square – especially Catholic Christian voices. Another thing I tried to do with my old blogs was to share the immense, beautiful, and inspiring treasury of religious art and music we have inherited, much of which remains unknown to so many of us. I’m convinced that this remains a an essential mission.
     Sharing some of those treasures more widely, then,  is one of the purposes of this blog (and part of the fun for me is learning about and experiencing them myself).  I also hope to discuss (charitably, if I can) events and ideas from a Catholic perspective. I will also be taking note of saint’s days, liturgical feasts, and other elements of Catholic life and Catholic culture as they suggest themselves to my distractible mind. Oh, and I promise to try not to get too caught up in the specifics of politics.  Politics is like the horse in Psalm 33:  “The war horse is vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save” (Psalm 33:17).
     The Good News is that there’s someone who can save:

     Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, 
      that he may deliver their soul from death, and keep them alive in famine. 
     Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and shield. 
     Yea, our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name. 
     Let thy steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in thee.  
                                                                                                (Psalm 33: 18-22)

Our hope is not in politics, or programs, or policies, or in people: our hope is in The Lord: Spes in Domino est.

I’m writing this blog as a Catholic layman, husband, and father. I have no formal training in theology, but I do know a little Latin and Greek, and I’ve spent a large portion of my adult life (after what I like to think of as a supernatural boot to the backside) trying to learn more about the Catholic faith, and live it out in my family and in the world.    -Iacobus M
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