I’m seeing a meme on social media which quotes Pope Francis as discouraging fasting, recommending people to “eat whatever you want” and instead seek “a better relationship with others” during Lent. The quote, as far as I can tell, is false. I can find no evidence that the Holy Father said any such thing.
However, somebody said it. It reflects a popular sentiment among Catholics. And it raises some important questions. Why fast? Why do penance? Isn’t more important to just love one another?
Perhaps penance is important because we need it if we want to get better at loving.
Last time, we talked about our covenant relationship with God — how he gave and gives himself to us completely, down to the very last drop of blood, and how following him means that we offer our very selves to him in return, as our response to this mutual covenant.
And what does he ask of us? To simply follow his example, to love him, and to love those around us whom he created.
It can seem difficult to understand where giving up pizza would fit into that. Can’t we just skip that and go straight to loving our neighbor?
Well, the problem lies in our understanding of what “loving our neighbor” really means. Different people see it in different ways:
St. Teresa of Calcutta’s definition of love: Manually lifting maggot-ridden dying persons out of a filthy ghetto gutter, carrying them to her home, cleaning their wounds and caring for them until they die.
St. Maximillian Kolbe’s definition of love: Volunteering to trade places with a man condemned to death, starving most of the way to death in a Nazi bunker, and finally dying of an injection of carbolic acid.
Pretty Much Every American’s definition of love: Smiling at people in the supermarket checkout line.
If you think that God’s expectation of love is limited to #3, then yeah, you should probably go ahead and eat the pizza. Or perhaps rethink your assumptions.
We think, probably as a result of too many “Love Is…” cartoons from our childhoods, that love is easy — that it just consists of smiling a lot and being nice to the people around us.
But does it? Let’s look at the way God loved us. He sent his Son, also God, who hung on the cross and died a slow, horrible, torturous death to show the depth of his love for us. For you.
So following his example of love might not be as simple as we think.
Of course, the most basic way to live love is to avoid sin, since all sin is on some level a failure to love. But it doesn’t stop there. St. Teresa encouraged us to “love until it hurts.” Really loving, really looking out for the best for somebody else, often involves significant sacrifice on our parts. We have to give up what we want to do for the sake of what love demands of us. Parents of small (and not so small) children know that. Children of elderly parents know that.
We all need to know that.
The problem is that, in order to give up what we want to do for the sake of what we are called to do, we need some measure of self-control. We need what is known as “detachment.” Take, for example, a father who, instead of helping his wife with the children, spends all of his spare time gaming. He may be a nice guy, but he’s not capable of love because he’s not capable of detaching from what is getting in the way of love.
We may not all be addicted to gaming. But we are all addicted to some form of comfort that gets in the way of our ability to love selflessly.
So how does giving up pizza for Lent fit in? Is it just a matter of being prepared if love ever demands that we share our coveted slice of pepperoni?
No, it goes deeper and wider than that. We need to root out the selfishness that comes as standard equipment in the human person. We need to build that inner muscle that helps us to walk away from something when we really want it, in order to do what we really should do. Every time we do that, we strengthen our willpower. And that willpower isn’t pizza specific. The idea is that it will carry over when we are called to sacrifice, in whatever way, for the sake of loving our fellow human person.
The Church’s proscribed Lenten penance (two days of fasting, no meat on Fridays) is a good start for some people. But let’s be honest — it’s really not that difficult for most of us. We need to go further — much further.
Obviously, the more challenging the sacrifice, the greater the benefit. So giving up something that you don’t like and won’t miss isn’t going to do you a whole lot of good. Likewise, if there is an area of life where you know you have an attachment that is interfering with your ability to love (drinking at the bar when you should be at home with your family, gaming when you should be taking care of your kids, social media when you should be praying, etc.), then that will be the most fruitful place to direct your Lenten sacrifices.
The most important thing to remember here is that, as Christians, we are called to love big — to make heroic sacrifices for the sake of love. We are, every one of us, surrounded by people who have significant needs, and for whom we could make a significant difference — if we could be willing and able to do what it takes. Who is lonely and needs your time? Who is struggling and needs your care and support? And what would you have to give up to offer it to them?
In order to be aware of them, and to truly respond in love, we need to break out of our little bubbles of self. We need to notice — to give some thought to those God has placed in our lives, what they struggle with, what we can do to make their lives better. And then we need the strength and the self control to do it.
Fasting helps us to to that.
Have you ever noticed, in Scripture, how fasting and ministry are closely tied together? Jesus fasted and prayed for 40 days before beginning his public ministry. Paul did likewise. There is a reason for this. Fasting is powerful. It equips us. And it brings grace.
I saw a quote recently that said trying to love without penance is like trying to garden without weeding. We can’t skip to the good parts without clearing out whatever is in the way.
Lent is our season for weeding. Make good use of it.