More or Less
Scripture Passage: “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan, and was led by the Spirit for 40 days in the wilderness, tempted by the devil. And He ate nothing in those days; and when they were ended, He was hungry. The devil said to Him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’ And Jesus answered Him, ‘It is written: Man shall not live by bread alone.’” —Luke 4:1-4
Challenge Message: “Lent is a fitting time for self-denial; we would do well to ask ourselves what we can give up in order to help and enrich others by our own poverty. Let us not forget that real poverty hurts: no self-denial is real without this dimension of penance. I distrust a charity that costs nothing and does not hurt.” —Pope Francis
Forty Days, More or Less
In the early centuries of the Church, Christianity tended to be rather selective regarding whom we would or would not Baptize. It wasn’t a matter of proving one’s worth; the grace of Christ is freely given to sinners, superabundantly, profligately. But people had to know what they were getting into. Jesus promises His followers a cross, after all, and for nearly 300 years Christians had been persecuted by the Roman Empire.
The baptismal symbolism of death and resurrection—joined to Christ’s own death, already died for us, that we need never fear death again, and to Christ’s own eternal life already begun—would have been far more than mere sentiment in those days. Christians courted death simply by professing our faith in Christ. Indeed, many were killed while awaiting their Baptism, thus held to have been “baptized in their blood.”
In ancient Rome, catechumens could expect a three-year period of preparation, prayer, and formal instruction for at least an hour a week. Jerusalem sped things up a bit: there the catechumenate underwent 40 days of rigorous instruction, culminating in Holy Baptism at the Easter Vigil. At that point they would be welcomed as members of the Body of Christ, no longer asked to leave worship before the celebration of the Eucharist.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, the number 40 holds significance wheresoever it appears in Scripture and in liturgy. Ancient peoples understood that it takes roughly 40 weeks for a pregnant woman to come to term, so whenever we encounter that number in the Bible—Noah’s 40 nights of rain, Israel’s 40 years in the wilderness, Jesus’ 40 days of temptation—it represents a time of growth and pain resulting in new birth, new life.
A 40-day period of catechetical instruction soon became standard throughout the Church both East and West. Christians observed this time as a season of fasting and repentance, leading up to Holy Week, in solidarity with those awaiting Baptism. We call this season “Lent” in English; from the Anglo-Saxon word læncte, meaning “lengthening (of daylight hours)” i.e. spring. It is traditional to “give something up for Lent.”
Of course, most Christians throughout most of history have not spoken English. For the majority of our Western brethren, Lent is known by some variation of the Latin “Quadragesima,” which means “the 40th part” or “40 days.” Keep in mind that Easter, too, is an Anglo-Saxon word. The vast mass of Christians throughout the world refer to the Resurrection of our Lord not as Easter Sunday but as Holy Pascha or Passover; hence terms such as the Paschal Candle and Paschal Lamb.
Those of a mathematical bent might soon discern that Lent does not appear to add up to a proper 40 days. This is because Sundays do not count. In liturgical traditions, Sundays are considered to be “in Lent” but not “of Lent.” As the day of Resurrection, every Sunday serves as a little Easter for each week: always a feast and never a fast. Thus they are not included in the total, and do not fall under fasting rules. Some choose to keep their Lenten discipline during Sundays, yet strictly speaking they need not.
But why fast at all? What is its purpose? It seems so antithetical to modern sensibilities. Perhaps that ought to be the point. The moral and spiritual benefits of fasting are recognized throughout human cultures. Christianity in particular retains the tradition that “he who is faithful in a little will be faithful also in much.” We practice small acts of self-denial in the same way that an athlete trains with weights, so that when it matters most we shall have the strength to deny ourselves, pick up our Cross, and follow Christ.
Modern American society has almost entirely lost the practice of fasting, and seems aghast at any notion of self-control or self-denial. Yet in losing the fast, we lose the feast as well. When everything is indulgence, nothing is, and where’s the joy in that? Admittedly the West has ever been more lenient than the East, especially in the matter of fluids. Coffee, tea, juice, milk, and even beer do not break a Western fast—hence why so many good, dark lagers are tapped at Lent, to carry the monks all the way through to Easter.
So raise a glass, say a prayer, and perhaps adopt some new discipline or devotion for these 40 holy days. We are, after all, preparing ourselves for death and resurrection. And if that seems a bit too rigorous to maintain, never fear. We’ll always have Sunday.
In Jesus. Amen.
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