A few weeks ago, the deacon gave a homily explaining how no one really likes the season of Lent because it deals primarily with suffering. Many Catholics around the world give up something to show solidarity with Christ who made the ultimate sacrifice for our sakes. The poetry anthology I’m working through for the season mentioned something similar stating that unlike Christmas which is a different kind of descent into darkness, there is a magic associated with Advent that is missing from Lent because it requires a letting go, a sacrifice. Call me strange, but I love Lent. I love the idea of shaving away what is not essential. I love the taking up of something like a daily poetry reading related to Lent or 40 days of Dante, and I love the giving up. I love Advent too. It’s actually one of the reasons I became a Catholic as an adult: the Liturgical calendar anchors me. Journeying through Christ’s life throughout the year is grounding in a way that National Pancake Day or May the Fourth just never can (and I do love pancakes and Yoda). Speaking of pancakes, the Liturgical calendar does actually have a Global Pancake Day; it’s Shrove Tuesday, the day before the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday.
Back to the homily: Deacon mentioned that no one likes to be reminded of their mortality. No one likes to be told that they aren’t enough, that nothing they do will be good enough and that they need to be pruned, stripped away of dearly held notions that are no longer bringing them closer to God. The season of Lent forces us to recognize and acknowledge our own inadequacies. We are forced to lean in, magnify, and then hand over to God all that is broken. If you’re anything like me, there’s a lot that’s broken. We all have slivers and metaphorical baggage embedded under our skin, weighing us down, threatening to drown. Why we are swimming with slivers and baggage doesn’t quite make sense to me, but you get the gist: it’s hard and often painful. What I love about Lent is that it doesn’t end with what’s broken. Just like with Advent when we are looking forward to Christmas, Lent ends with Easter. The greatest celebration of all time is the Resurrection. In order to fully appreciate Easter, we need Lent. We need to once again face the world as it is: broken. Now, don’t forget, I love my rosy-colored glasses, but even they cannot fully conceal suffering nor do I escape this beautifully broken world unscathed.
One of my son’s homeschool lessons on Italian culture finished with the making of an Italian-themed meal. He single handedly made us gnocchi, the Italian pasta dumpling, and I was so proud. Funnily enough, a few weeks prior, I too had made gnocchi. For Christmas I received a cookbook (one of my favorite things), and I was eager to try all the recipes, but this recipe for gnocchi in particular. I had never actually made it before and then had it twice in one month. While I was forming the potato-pasta-dumplings, it occurred to me that they were a bit wonky. Usually when we see packages of food in the grocery store, gnocchi included, they are factory-level uniform. They are almost identical in shape, consistency, texture, and taste (if there is even a taste). Mine, and my son’s, were not consistent. They were slightly misshapen, made by clumsy fingers, rolled with inconsistent pressure.
Making gnocchi can be quite the production, depending on the recipe. My recipe was much more involved and time consuming than my son’s. In many ways making gnocchi is a metaphor for what we experience in Lent. It is a peeling away of the outer potato skins, boiling in salted water, then mashed smooth. Other ingredients or experiences are added (flour, butter, yeast). Then we are kneaded, left to rest, rolled, and cut, only to be boiled again before being ready. We can be dressed up like my gnocchi with a pesto sauce, or simple like my son’s with parmesan and olive oil. Before this takes a weird cannibalistic turn, I just want to end with the thought that not all suffering is bad, and neither is a little inconsistency. The world is broken. It can only be fixed when Christ comes again, but in the meantime, we have the opportunity to not only join in our Savior’s suffering, but taste and see the goodness of the Lord. Lent is precisely a period of [purple] preparation. Preparing dinner is like preparing for Jesus.
wut r pillows…?