For many, this season of self-reflection is joined by self-sacrifice. “What are you giving up for Lent?” is what we ask. Answers range from superfluous guilty pleasures (I’m giving up hot cocoa) to serious acts of self-deprivation (I’m literally fasting from all food for the next 40 days just like Jesus in the wilderness).
Nothing in scripture commands us to do this. The precedents we inherited do not link fasting with personal piety. Rather, in many Medieval eras, fasting was tied more to the reality that by the end of winter, stores of food were dwindling down significantly in poor and rural communities. Fasting was what you had to do to survive long enough for Spring to arrive and so you’d better pray, give up certain things, and ration whatever is left. Nevertheless, the traditions set back then are observed still today, and for good reason. Modern faith communities still find a Lenten fast to be rewarding. At worst, it's a chance to practice self-control; and at best, it' a spiritually renewing experience.
At Trinity, I have challenged our congregation to do just that: Fast. Find something you can give up. All of us have something we spend money on, some harmless guilty pleasure that might not draw us closer to God but certainly won’t pull us away from him either. That $4 drink at Starbucks every morning. The $20-$30 meal you share with friends every Sunday after church and twice again throughout the week. The Netflix account where you binge-watch true crimes.
Consider giving that up. Make your coffee at home. Host a potluck with your friends instead of eating out. Trade your Netflix account for a library card. Whatever it is, see it as an exercise in sacrifice and self-control for the sake of your spiritual life.
But the challenge goes further. Instead of just sacrificing that thing and feeling good about yourself for being disciplined, take the money you would have spent on that thing, stick it in an envelope, and find some creative way to bless your community with the money saved. I’ll help you with the math: That $4 drink at Starbucks spread out over 40 days of Lent would leave you with $160. That won’t save the country from economic collapse, but it's nothing to sneeze at either!
A few years ago, our small church took this challenge and by Easter Sunday, we had gathered $1,000. With that, we were able to bless a 2nd Grade teacher at a local school. She had expressed to me the frustration she felt knowing that her classroom was under-supplied, but her students’ families were already stretched thin at home: asking them for more money was completely out of the question. With the money we saved through our shared Lenten practice of self-sacrifice, we were able to meet that need for her, providing basic supplies to last for the rest of that school year and into the next.
In 2 Corinthians 8, Paul celebrates a mysteriously beautiful Macedonian church. In spite of some extreme trial, “their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity…. They gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability,” all for the sake of being a blessing to people they would never meet! Without a Christian calendar to guide them and without having to be told, they held their own Lenten sacrifice and joined it with reckless generosity. Lent is our opportunity to follow suit.
We can give something up for the next 40 days and then on Easter Monday, pat ourselves on the back for a job well-done. Or, we can sacrifice that thing that costs us something, and use the money we would have spent on that for the purpose of blessing our community (and we’ll still feel good about a job well-done too!). Our forefathers fasted as a way to throw themselves at the mercy of God for their survival. The Macedonians sacrificed so they could overflow with generosity. This year for Lent, we can do both: Give it up so we can give it away!
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