Lent Devotional

by Dan Hart

I had the joy to be back in Michigan this weekend. It was only for a few days, but I felt that I was able to let down and rest a bit. Part of this essential season is taking time to rest and refocus. I find that this is not easy in day-to-day life. Even still the biggest thing about lent is focus and remembering what the focus should be on. Reflecting on this season so far I find myself very appreciative of my practices and also disappointed in my concurrent lack of time that causes me to occasionally fast forward them.

The greatest thing so far has been reading scripture and praying with Autumn. Having a prayer partner can be helpful to accountability and also deepening relationships. I believe this can be with friends, loved ones, or even somebody you want to get to know better. Even though I have really connected to these practices, I find myself occasionally just trying to get through them. I read a chapter so fast I don’t really remember what it said, or I am practically asleep and we just say “Thanks God for this day and care for those in need” (which still is a legitimate prayer). Why is it that in this season of lent I have time to check the Red Wings highlights (sorry Blackhawks fans) but not to really read the Bible?

I ran through all of the emotions the other day when I was contemplating opening a bag of breath mints. I grabbed the bag of candy, full of guilt, and stood there with it in my hands for a few. I first thought, “You gave up candy…this is cheating.” I then thought, “Maybe God will forgive you if it means you don’t have to inflict bad breath on others.” Then I realized that it is not about my bad breath or a single mint, although I did not eat it, but about the purpose of giving it up. I tend to move towards sweets when I am stressed and not thinking about what I am doing. This is not healthy for me and it is a sign that I may not be focusing on what I need to be. My lack of focus limits my relationship with God.

Maybe it is time to refocus. Just like the story of the woman at the well and her refocusing not on the barriers between her and Jesus but on the living water and the supplier of that water, I also need to be purposeful to see the one who brings me spiritual sustenance. I do not believe that God cares about our indulgence in sweets or lack thereof, but I do believe that God cares about our relationships with God. Time has been a barrier for me to be fully in relationship with God. Maybe that is why I needed to go home and realize that as much as I have lost out on reading or praying deeper, my relationship with God has been fostered and deepened. Each opportunity to read or pray is part of a much larger picture of my relationship with God. I need to work on being genuine and knowing that I can always grow more.

by Mary Colleran

The other day my alarm went off and I was exhausted. I’d been up late the night before dealing with various life issues and I was in no mood to get my early morning walk on. So I reset the alarm and went back to sleep. I felt guilty for a minute but then banished that feeling because I really don’t want guilt to have any part of my spirituality. Been there, done that. It seemed silly to force myself out of bed just to prove a point. But was I robbing myself of something wonderful that would happen if I went for a prayer walk? Maybe. But then I wouldn’t have had that dream about a coworker winning the Guinness Book of World Records for knitting the world’s biggest blanket. So I woke up feeling a-okay about my decision. After all, this is a spiritual practice not a spiritual destination. I’m figuring this out as I go.

This little episode made me think about how I make up my own rules for Lent and I pretty much make up my own rules for religion and spirituality in general. There are probably a lot of pros and cons to this one, but I feel okay about it right now. There have been times when it somehow comes up that I was raised Catholic, or went to a Jesuit college, or did the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, or now regularly go to a Methodist Church and people will ask a question like “YOU? You go to church?!” Or there’s a long tirade about how awful the Catholic Church is, and then a silence that seems to say, “Well…prove me wrong.” I never bother to get into it much. I kind of have the thought: if this person can’t wrap their mind around whoever they thought I was with this new person they just discovered that actually goes to Church and believes in God…well that’s up to them. Nothing I say in the next three minutes is going to change that. I’ll just be me and they can adjust to it or not. It seems that the fact that I go to church makes some people think they’ve got my spiritual beliefs all figured out. Hilarious, since I have no clue what I actually believe, so if they know, they should clue me in.

I know I make these kinds of judgments about people all the time, based on a variety of facts or assumptions or general vibes. So, I’m really not one to talk. But I will anyway.

In these moments, a part of me gets infuriated. For me, Christianity is my history and tradition and my faith in a God who loves everyone is what inspires me to live the best life possible and work for positive social change. Like anything, many churches of many denominations are replete with inadequacies and failures, but I believe that at its core, the message (and the core message of most if not all religions) is inclusive and welcoming and has the potential to bring about a more peaceful world. The message as I like to see it is that we should all do our best to live life with purpose and use the gifts we’re given to create a better world. Sure, people have done awful things in the name of religion but that’s not the religion’s fault. Christianity was trying to spread love and good news and people misinterpreted all kinds of stuff and really messed some things up. There’s plenty of great people trying to get all this on the right track.

What was my point? Oh yes. Making up my own rules. In trying to figure out Christianity’s place in my life, I’ve definitely strayed from some of the things I was taught to believe in growing up. You want to know what I believe about the Eucharist? I’ll tell ya. I HAVE NO CLUE. I’ve given that a whole lotta thought and I’m still not sure. Courage to question, friends! I question the heck outta that situation. But whatever it is I believe, I love the ritual and it brings me peace and makes me happy.

And I think that sums up my experience with Holy Covenant, and the community here, and the services, and the bazillion ways we all connect, and this here Lenten blog. It brings me peace and makes me happy.

by Adam Bogucki

What a tough week for compassion. I was so busy; I had little to no patience for dealing with people. I have learned compassion takes patience. I had originally considered taking on simplicity as a spiritual practice for Lent. However, I felt that would be setting my self up for failure. I like to do everything. I like being busy. I like being around as many different people as possible.

I do still feel that God is teaching me little lessons in compassion, even if I am having a hard time putting it into practice. Did you happen to see the news story about the little girl in Florida with a peanut allergy? There is a petition by some of her schoolmates and their parents to have her kicked out of school because they have had to change their lives too much to accommodate her needs. I was appalled when I watched it on CNN. And then I stopped and thought, “How often am I those parents?” I mean, often times it is easier for me to think, “why should I put myself out when they are the ones that are different; they are the ones that have problems, not me.”

And then there was the story about the Barefoot Contessa and the Make a Wish Foundation. It seems that the media and those watching the news stories took a simple misunderstanding and blew it way out of proportion. A little boy made his wish through the foundation to cook with the Contessa. Her people said no. All of the sudden, it has become a case of a star too big for the little people to help a dying little boy. In truth, he isn’t dying, and is in fact in remission, and she had no idea about the request. His family has asked people to step back and look at the situation. They are upset because they have mislabeled their little boy as “on his death bed” when he is pretty healthy. And people have vilified the Barefoot Contessa because her people decided she shouldn’t do this. It makes me think, how uncompassionate am I when I jump to conclusions or believe everything that I hear with no evidence? When I read this story, my first thought was, how ridiculous that the media took this and made it into such a huge issue. Then I remembered, I am the one that buys everything the media tells me.

Compassion has many forms. I have donated too much money this Lent, and I finally had to step back and think to myself, ok, what other forms can I practice? I would like to really practice patience this week. To have patience when people are different from me or when people have needs that are different from my own. Patience when I hear something that makes me cringe, because maybe I don’t know the whole story.

Giving up alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine has been so much easier than taking on compassion. What does that say about me?

by Georgette Kelly

Last week, my Sabbath took me on a long walk. I meandered, enjoying the sunlight. I found myself in the Brown Elephant Resale Shop.

As if illuminated with a special light, a blue and white ceramic teapot appeared on a shelf in front of me. Its bright geometric pattern entranced me. I felt compelled to touch it, turn it over in my hands. I carried it to the register, thinking, “Why do I need a teapot? I have never owned a teapot.”

I drink tea out of plastic cylinders while commuting. I drink tea brewed from caffeinated powder. I drink tea while a little paper tag flaps at the end of thin twine that sticks to my lips. None of this is really appealing. It is merely consumption and movement.

Upon reflection, maybe I can learn something from the teapot…

I carried it home and boiled some water. I peeled off the price tag, washed, and dried the teapot. I dug out some loose-leaf tea from the back of a cabinet. I listened to the jingle of the dry leaves falling into the hollow ceramic. I felt the steam rise up as I poured in the water. I watched it brewing, and I thought that very few things are permanent in my life.

I sat down and drank the tea, still watching the teapot. This fragile object somehow seemed permanent—it had been owned by other people who had cared for it. It could break easily, unlike my durable plastic travel mugs. But people had respected it, conserved it, passed it on. They had respected the time that this teapot could consecrate, instead of dashing out the door, cup in hand. You can rush off to work, but you cannot rush brewing tea. It takes its time.

The teapot was transformed into a small luxury, a permanent object in my Tupperware-filled kitchen, a reminder that time for brewing is sacred. Time for reflection is sacred.

In trying to be frugal, I have often denied myself small luxuries. I have denied myself time that is sacred. This teapot was not expensive—but it was “unnecessary.” On another day, a day that was not Sabbath, I might have decided not to buy it because I did not “need” it.

In my mind, being frugal is a sister of working hard. I work hard. I am frugal. I allow these traits to define me. They are necessary, yes. They are virtuous, yes. But they define me. I define myself with them.

What if something more permanent defined me? What if I defined myself with something more permanent?

What if God defined me? What if I defined myself with God?

by Maria Cupp

“For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.“ Philippians 1:29

I gave up two things for Lent: fried foods and the judgment of others. Just last week I was talking about how much easier it was to give up fried food because choosing to eat fried food takes deliberate action and deliberate action is easier to control than the unconscious action of judging another. I forgot to take into consideration one very important thing though, while discussing how easy it has been for me to avoid fried food.

I’m an emotional eater.

Food brings me comfort. It brings me joy. It makes things better. I recognize that being an emotional eater isn’t different from other forms of self-medication. The only discrepancy is that my drug of choice is food. Just like with pills or alcohol, although the relief may be euphoric, it is temporary. And in the long run…it’s just not worth it.

Giving up fried food was easy when I wasn’t challenged. For some time now I’ve been working on acknowledging and understanding the triggers on my emotional eating so that I can better handle it. This week though, when I was faced with stress, with uncertainty and with sadness? Then I found I had no willpower. I easily rationalized that God would understand. I figured I could make an exception for my hurt, for my exhaustion and for my fear. So I took the hit, I swallowed the pill, I ate the chicken tenders. And you know what? They didn’t even taste good. I didn’t enjoy them. They didn’t make me feel better. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop eating them…though I did make a mental note and thought “Hmm, maybe that wasn’t worth it.”

But it wasn’t until 36 hours later, that I had an epiphany. The purpose of sacrifice during Lent is to become closer to God and to imitate the great sacrifice he made for us. While I was busy justifying my desire to drown my sorrows in breaded and fried pieces of chicken, dipped in barbeque sauce, I never once thought about what my decision really meant: Instead of embracing my sacrifice and honoring God, I turned to food. I held God’s love at arm’s length and instead turned to my old familiar friend. I took the easy way out.

What is the value of success if it comes easily? As Andrew Carnegie (and my mom) said, “Anything in life worth having is worth working for.” So it defeats the purpose, I think, to give myself an instant pass because I’m having a rough (really, really rough) week. It is during our most difficult weeks that our sacrifice means the most. If the purpose of choosing what we give up for Lent is to try to figure out what is the easiest, we’re doing something wrong. We’re missing the point. We wouldn’t use the word “sacrifice” to describe our actions if it were meant to be simple. Jesus died for us! I don’t imagine he thought “Hmm, I’m pretty tired today. I think I’ll pass on giving up my life for my people.”

Blogging for Lent has really made me take a look at my thoughts and beliefs and my actions. It’s made me question what I do for God and what God does for me. I love this self-challenge. It is this practice that has helped me realize that God means more to me than a three piece chicken strip meal from Popeye’s. So the next time my emotions are screaming for fried food and the car starts to veer towards the drive thru window, I’m going to remember that really, in the whole be scheme of things, sacrificing french fries in honor of the suffering Jesus did for us is really no big deal. Besides, I’m pretty confident that spending a few minutes with God will make me feel much better than any fried food ever can.

by Teddy Jay

I’ve been reading the submissions by the other bloggers. At first I really thought to myself, “this will be easy!” I mean it’s not like I have to give up caffeine and be compassionate at the same time. If I were to do that I’d have to only count interactions past 10am, as I can’t even tie my shoes without coffee. So the practice of centering myself, praying and talking to God seems like a piece of cake compared to that. So why is it I can barely find the time?

I started the week by doing some meditation at Lake Michigan again. Side note: Can we get some warmer weather please? I’ve been trying to read a little bit of the bible as I attempt to pray or meditate and center myself. While watching the sunrise, I read the story of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4: 1-42). It’s a favorite of mine. I’m sure you know the story but in essence, it’s a story about a woman who goes to a well to draw some water and gets more than she ever bargained for. This poor woman, downtrodden and feeling isolated, comes to the well hoping to avoid the scornful judgment of the other people in town on her life. Instead of other people, she meets Jesus. Can you imagine? Here she is just trying to draw some water from a well and then some guy starts talking to her about the living water. Some guy indeed. I love her response when she says, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” As if she was saying, “listen buddy, I don’t have the time for this! I’m thirsty and I need to get some water.” I can’t say I blame her really. God speaks to me often and often I don’t make the time to listen. But Jesus proceeds to tell her things about herself that some traveling man wouldn’t know. She eventually realizes that he is indeed the Messiah and goes forth to spread the good news. And that she does. Others begin believing because of her testimony that the Messiah had come and refreshed her life with the living water.

Whoa. I bet the woman didn’t think that’s what her day would look like when she woke up that morning! How many times have you met Jesus and received more than you expected? More than you were ready for? How many times has God met you at at time in your life when you can’t imagine feeling very worthy of that love and grace? I know it’s pretty often for me. There are so many times when I’ve felt completely empty and alone. I often feel like that Samaritan woman; just trying to get on with my day and nothing more. It’s those days when I just want to shrug and say to Jesus, “Well fine. You go and fetch me this living water that you speak of so that I don’t have to come to this stupid well again.” But I know he wants more for me. He wants more from me. Jesus is saying to us, “I know what lies heavy on your heart, I do. But first come and drink from the well that will never run dry.”

But it doesn’t stop there does it? He shares this with us not just so that we can go hang out by a well all day but so that we may go forth with the good news. This water will revive us and that is something we need to share! That’s sometimes the hard part; accepting the idea that God wants certain things for us and in turn making sure others know it too.

I got up as the sun rose over the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and went searching for a well. Boy, I’m thirsty.

by Mary Colleran

(Updated, 3/24/11 3:30 pm)

One of my Lenten practices has been reading some spiritual-type books. I’ve been reading Thomas Merton’s “The Seven Storey Mountain.” It’s fascinating to me to read about someone who was not raised with religion and became Catholic as an adult, versus my experience being born into Catholicism, and continually working to figure out what place it holds in my life. It’s especially interesting to me now that I’ve become part of a Methodist church community. There is part of me that is and will always be Catholic but how does that intersect with the part of me that has become more and more connected to this Methodist community?

HC’s current theme, “The Courage to Question”, is really nice for me. I love questioning. In fact, sometimes I think I take it to the extreme and should just let things be. But questioning why things are a certain way and why I believe certain things and why other people believe certain things and why I feel a certain way – I am a real sucker for that stuff. And, much like Thomas Merton, I often enjoy doing this questioning by myself, in my own head. That said, I’m always up for a conversation and really, if you ever want to overanalyze the crap out of your relationship over some coffee, call me. I am always up for one of those sessions. But, there is something about pondering life’s questions in silence that I really dig. While Trappist monks don’t take a vow of silence, idle talk is strongly discouraged and they only speak when necessary. Now that is a bit (way) too extreme for my fancy but the whole concept is really interesting to me. I’ve been on a few silent retreats in my life, and I loved every bit of ‘em. Eating a meal with a group of people in silence is very awkward at first, but after a while, I was super into it. We should all shut up more often.

Yesterday I listened to an episode of NPR’s Radiolab that focused on words. A woman who had a stroke talked about how at the moment it was happening, she was losing her ability for language, and simultaneously experienced an increased calm and peace as all the thoughts cleared from her mind. That blew my mind a wee bit. You can bet I thought about that one on the ol’ Lenten morning walk. What are we without words? What are we in general? I was talking to a friend this week about people who develop Alzheimer’s and other mental illnesses. If a person broke her arm, she’s the same person with the same spirit, with a broken arm. Someone that has Alzheimer’s is the same person with the same spirit who has an illness that impairs how he or she processes thoughts/words/memories. My friend said how he hopes that his Mom who recently passed away is whole again. That’s a heartbreaking and beautiful thought. Is the part of us that really counts whole right now? Am I whole? Is it impossible to be completely whole in this wild and wacky life or is true wholeness reserved for another space and time?

Thanks a LOT, HC. You give me permission to question and THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS.

That said, I am very grateful for the time and space to be able to question and for this group of good
people who encourage it.

Y’all are great. No question about it.

by Adam Bogucki

Note to self: don’t give up caffeine during the same Lent that you decide to try to be more compassionate. It makes it tough. Really tough.

I’ve joked a lot lately that God is really stretching my compassion this Lent. From incompetent servers to annoying people on the train, they are ALL sticking out to me lately. So, I am challenged to be compassionate towards them; to smile and to feel something resembling kindness or understanding for them. Maria’s blog post about considering where someone is coming from really struck me this week. So instead of getting angry with someone, I have been trying to consider why he or she may be acting a certain way. It would be easier if I were caffeinated.

Part of my practicing compassion is coming out in the form of donating. I can’t spare any time at the moment for volunteering, so I am giving money when and where I can. I FINALLY gave into one of the stalkers on the street corner and donated to the Red Cross. I also donated to my friend’s AIDS ride and the Japan earthquake fund.

You know me. That’s not enough to satisfy. So I have been doing some research on other ways to give back. I found a really cool site called Beremedy. As of now, it’s only operating in Georgia, but I really hope it spreads. Basically, someone writes into the site with a need, say a new bed, and then the site puts out a call to its contacts to help out. I signed up to get the text messages when there is a need. The other day, a call came for two twin beds. Within a minute, the need had been met. Isn’t that amazing? Isn’t that the kind of world we should all strive to create and live in?

Another way compassion has entered into my life this Lent is through the It Gets Better campaign. If you are unfamiliar, this campaign started out with author Dan Savage and his partner posting a video on YouTube telling LGBT youth to not give up hope, that life does indeed get better. The campaign was started in response to the then recent suicides of LGBT students. The goal was 100 videos. Within a week, there were a 1000 videos. What an outpouring of compassion. People cared. The book “It Gets Better” just came out this week by Dan Savage. I am reading it and crying and praying that the world will become a more compassionate place so that one day my children can grow up without this bullying.

Whether you donate your time or money, seek out an organization that needs help, or just treat someone with a little bit of kindness to make their day better, I challenge each of you to work on compassion this week. It doesn’t take much to brighten someone’s day. And at least you get to do it with caffeine.

by Georgette Kelly

For the first week of Lent, I decided to start my Sabbath practice with a bold choice: I took a real vacation.

At the last minute, I found a cheap hotel deal and drove up to Lake Geneva, WI. I took four days off work (Saturday-Tuesday). It was very empowering to leave everything behind for a few days, and to have a change of scenery. I walked in the woods, swam in the hotel pool, and sat in the sauna. It felt luxurious, extravagant, like I didn’t deserve it.

I didn’t check my work email for two and a half days—and no disaster struck! That, in itself, felt like an accomplishment, even though I only made it through Monday afternoon.

While I was away, I still did some work, but it was personal work. I worked on re-writing my latest play, which will be produced by New Leaf Theatre in June. Writing is work that makes me feel more connected to myself; it renews me. And it got me thinking seriously about calling. If I could write full-time, I think I would be happy. Is that a hint from God? Probably…

Wednesday was my first day back at my job, and all morning I could feel a difference after my Sabbath retreat. My shoulders were down, my ribcage felt more elastic as I breathed, and I wasn’t slouching at my computer. It was easier to identify my priorities. I was calmer in meetings. I was able to stop for a good conversation, even if it didn’t fit into my schedule. All in all, I could separate my sense of self-worth from my job performance, which is a rare gift for me.

However, by the afternoon, I could feel the old tensions creeping back with alarming speed. By Thursday and Friday, I was back to the same old stress level—my heart was racing, my breath was shallow, and I was questioning how my performance measured up in the workplace. It was deeply frustrating to feel like I was back where I started, feeling overworked and anxious.

So, I guess the first lesson of Lent is that breaking unhealthy patterns takes a long time. Even on a physical level, the body reverts to old patterns within hours. It is not enough to change my routine momentarily—I need to learn sustainability within my routine. I am not there yet, but luckily, I have more time to practice…

The challenge of Lent is that you have to keep sustaining a spiritual practice, week after week. And the gift of Lent is that you get to keep sustaining a spiritual practice, week after week…until it finally sinks in.

by Maria Cupp

We judge others by their behavior. We judge ourselves by our intentions. ~Ian Percy

Giving up judgment isn’t quite the same challenge as giving up fried foods. Believe me, I know. I’m doing both this Lent. Eating something deep fried requires a deliberate action. Most of us don’t have french fries or chicken fingers at the ready. We have to prepare the meal, order off the menu or pull into the drive-thru. Judging others, at least for me, is a much more subconscious action. Someone speaks and a critical thought runs through my mind. A new colleague joins the company and I evaluate their dress and grooming, and then based on that evaluation, categorize them. A value is placed on an acquaintance based on their career, not taking into account how successful or happy they are. Judgment is a part of human nature and like any habit or routine it takes hard work to break.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately trying not to judge others. In doing so I’ve been aware of how and when I critique others and trying to understand what “triggers” judgment so that I can become a more open and accepting person. Ugh. Let me tell you that it is no easy task. It takes work. Thought. Intention.

One of the most important things I’ve realized in the past year or two is the importance of perspective. Our side of the story is based on what we know. It is based on how we are affected. What we see. It is the easiest to know and to understand because it is right in front of us. If we don’t think about the other sides of the story and about what effects might be in play than we aren’t using perspective. If I’m having a frustrating day and the email I receive doesn’t make sense or hasn’t answered all of my questions I blame it on the sender. I judge them as being unprofessional or ignorant. However, not once do I wonder what their work load is like, how their day is going or even if my original email was clear enough. Their response couldn’t be a result of my original action, could it?

We all make snap judgments. I’m not at a point (and may never be!) where I can stop the initial judgment from happening. What I can do though is to realize what I’m doing, take a step back and try to see all sides of the story. Take the time to say “Maria, you’re not being fair. You don’t know the story. You only know that the driver behind you honked. What you didn’t realize was that when you leaned over to get the IPass you drifted toward their lane. Or that they are running late for work and if they don’t clock in on time they are going to be docked pay.” Like Mr. Percy’s quote says, we judge ourselves based on our intention but we judge others based on their actions. Maybe the first step to quitting judgment is to start working a little bit harder. Instead of taking the easy way out, let’s start asking questions of ourselves and the people we are judging. Let’s take time out to consider their intentions, too. I think it’s a great first step to ending judgment.