

Life, we come to understand, is not only about joy. It is about the power to endure what is not joyful
as well.
I remember quite clearly the day in grade school when my teacher put a large box on the corner of
her desk and posters of starving children around the room. Lent was coming, she explained to us. We
should give up candy and put the candy money we saved in the box for the missions. These were the
poster children we should be sacrificing to save.
It was a child's catechetical exercise, yes, but it carried with it spiritual messages enough to last for a
lifetime. Clearly, we were being put on notice. There were things in life, other people in life, for which
each of us was responsible, however young we were and whether we had any association with them or
not. There were things in life so important, it seemed, that we would need to give up some things for
ourselves in order to take care of the needs of others. And it all had something to do with God.
When you're young, the act of giving something up for Lent is an epochal moment. It involves a
complete revaluation of what it means to be human. If life is not about permanent and continual self-
satisfaction, what is it about? And why? How is it that the notion of bridling the self can be as important
as satisfying the self?
What becomes even clearer as the years go by is that this understanding of penance and sacrifice as
part of what it means to be a spiritual person is one of the most ancient traditions in religious history.
It is common to all religions; it is thousands of years old.
The ascetic is the person who sets out to subject the body to the spirit. Athletes do it to achieve
physical development and somatic control. They give up food and time and physical comfort to conquer
mountains and swim channels and win athletic competitions. Spiritual seekers do the same things, but
they do them for a different reason. Their goal is to conquer themselves and develop their souls.
There is nothing passive about asceticism. It is the active giving of the self—physical and spiritual—in
order to concentrate the soul, viselike, on the center of life rather than on its peripherals. The
ascetic knows that to become what we can become spiritually, some things—even good things,
perhaps—must be forgone. It is not that good things must be forsaken; it is that they must be indulged
in with balance. The Talmud says that "If a person has the opportunity to taste a new fruit and refuses
to do so, he will have to account for that in the next world." The ascetic lives with the spiritual
awareness that choosing between the good and the better is the discipline that makes us the best of
what we set out to be. Asceticism is not about giving things up for their own sake. It is as much about
achieving more life—another kind of life—as it is about giving it up.
–from The Liturgical Year by Joan Chittister (Thomas Nelson)


Why Give Up Stuff for Lent?