The End Is Here: One Final Post

Lent is over and the Easter season is here. It was quite a ride and an experience like no other, but barring any unforeseen circumstances this will be the final post on "A Lenten Ramadan (of Sorts)." Before I sign off, however, I wanted to share a summation of what will surely be some of the memories I will take away with me. So for one last time, here we go!

• Easter Vigil Redux. Because blogging every day throughout Lent made me a feel a bit anti-social at times, I made a conscious decision to not spend much time in front of the computer on Easter Sunday, electing instead to try and be more present to family. Perhaps you may find it a bit odd that my Easter comments were brief and not particularly deep, but in a way that was what I intended all along. I hope that the previous six and a half weeks of posts left little doubt to where I stood on Easter . . . besides, even for the disciples the experience defied full explanation and, I imagine, was deeply personal and meant something slightly different to each of them. Holy Saturday was indeed a long day and, as beautiful as the Vigil Mass was, I found it difficult to concentrate due to my hunger and the overall anticipation of the conclusion of Lent. While the symbolism and beauty of the Vigil is impossible to surpass, for reasons mentioned yesterday I found Easter Sunday Mass with the entire family to be much more personal. What was most memorable about Holy Saturday was breaking the fast afterward. Brandi and I met my brother-in-law, his wife and our friend Matt at "The Cellar Bar and Grill" in Kearney. Just this past weekend it was announced that The Cellar's Western Burger was voted the best hamburger in Nebraska, so the choice for dinner was a no-brainer. Along with the onion rings and an ice cold Boulevard Wheat, it was a fitting end to a long Lent. The only tense moment was arriving at the restaurant at 10:15pm when the kitchen closed at 10:30. It was a close call, but all is well that ends well. Afterwards, we met our friends Tom and Becky at Matt's house for some more laughs and our own little Easter celebration.  Note to self, never eat a hamburger at 10:30pm . . . at my age it is not conducive to a good night's sleep.

• Speaking of eating. I am hopeful that my Lenten practice will lead to different noshing patterns and practices. I am making an exception for today because it is truly the first day of Easter for me since I was not observing the fast on Sundays in Lent anyway and I am still in celebration mode (it is nice to actually taste test the food I am cooking!). From this point forward I am looking to eliminate snacking between meals and while cooking. I feel healthy and happier knowing that I have gone through a physical and spiritual cleansing. This is not strictly because I couldn't eat for large chunks of time either. A large part of this new sense of my food-related self is rooted in a greater attentiveness to food security issues for the billions of hungry in our world as well as an ever-increasing awareness of where our food comes from, the pesticides and fertilizers that often contaminate it, the short cuts taken for the sake of convenience and the enormous amounts of fossil fuels used to get food to my dinner plate. Right now I feel inspired and wish the Farmers' Market were open today!

• Respect, admiration and a learning experience unlike any other.  It is one thing to read about something in a textbook, it is quite another thing to actually experience it for yourself. I know that from now on when my future World Religions classes learn about Islam I will never look at Ramadan the same again and I hope that the insight I gained will help to make this material come alive for my students. But by itself this sounds somewhat self-serving. In terms of a study of Islam what I have truly gained is a deep respect and admiration for Muslims who practice the Ramadan fast on an annual basis. Even though I may never observe Lent quite this way ever again, I know that I will be inspired in subsequent years to embrace a Lenten practice that truly becomes a personal sacrifice that draws me into deeper prayer and relationship with God and others. This August I will also be keenly aware that Ramadan is occurring and will have in my thoughts and prayers my Muslim brothers and sisters throughout the world. I pray that we can all develop a sensitivity to the important times for the world's religions throughout the course of each year and through these efforts nurture a greater understanding and respect for one another.

• Think globally, act locally.  As mentioned several times over the course of Lent I am inspired by the efforts of the Omaha organizations Project Interfaith and the Tri-Faith Initiative. It is not only refreshing but also a sign of great hope that there are many people of such good will from various religious backgrounds who are committed to making mutual understanding and respect such a priority. I look forward to participating in future programs and offering support for their continued efforts. If you live in the Omaha area I encourage you to explore the opportunities offered by these organizations and to consider your financial support of their efforts. If you live outside of the Omaha area, please take the time to explore such opportunities for inter-religious dialog in your own community. If such options do not exist where you live, perhaps you may be inspired to take the initiative and start something very special!

• Lessons in Ignatian Spirituality.  I am relatively new to the exploration of Ignatian Spirituality and this past Lent has certainly helped to deepen my understanding of both the terminology and the practice of the lifestyle of prayer outlined by St. Ignatius of Loyola in the sixteenth century. Terms like "examen," "desolation and consolation," "discernment of spirits" and "the two standards" have taken on greater meaning for me as this Lent was not about simply "going through the motions" but was an incredible opportunity to internalize my prayer and spirituality. My prayer experience was a roller-coaster ride filled with many ups and downs throughout the past fifty days or so. That sort of idea used to bother me . . . I wanted every day to be an "up" and by nature am disappointed with the "downs." But if I have learned anything it is the need to be patient in prayer and that there is a sort of symbiotic relationship between the days of enlightenment and the days of disappointment. It all feels real to me in a way it perhaps never has and I am eager to continue my journey knowing that it is necessary for me to lessen my expectations and to simply avail myself to the many graces which God offers.

• All of life is a blessing.  If you have been following my blog throughout Lent you will no doubt have recognized that "gratitude" naturally developed as an over-arching theme and was a word I returned to over and over again. My recognition of this as the main gift being offered by God was affirmed at the Easter Vigil homily. Father had noted that when we meet someone we often ask the question, "How are you?" Our knee-jerk response to this question is very often, "Fine." How boring. How generic. How safe. Instead, Father suggested that when we are asked, "How are you?" as people of faith we must respond, "Blessed!" for we are each truly blessed in countless ways. Sometimes it may be difficult for us to identify these blessings due to the pain, suffering and confusion we find in our lives. But the message of Easter is ultimately one of blessing . . . we are blessed with life and creation and as Christians we are blessed to have been invited to a life in Christ, a life which promises the hope of victory over death and a share in God's limitless love. If someone were to theoretically ask me, "How was your Lent?" I can honestly answer, "It was a blessing!" This Lent fostered within me the disposition to identify the many blessings that fill my life each day and I hope this is a lesson that is not soon forgotten.
• A final word of thanks.  I would like to take one last chance to thank you for walking with me through my Lenten Ramadan (of Sorts). Your prayers, attentiveness and comments encouraged me to keep going when the going got tough and your regular visits to this blog inspired me to keep writing even on nights when I would have rather just gone to bed. I firmly believe that we were created to be in relationship with one another and through that relationship are given a window into the mind of God. When I began this endeavor I did so, in part, as a response to much of the negativity I often find online. At least for a small time I hope that together we created a place of peace, faith and understanding.  All the entries, all the thought and all the prayer of these past six and a half weeks can in no way begin to express what this Lenten Ramadan has meant. Thank you for your part in that.

May God grant you peace in all things.

Some Easter Thoughts

Sitting in church this morning with my family it finally struck me that Lent is over. Although Brandi and I went to a beautiful celebration of the Easter Vigil last night, it wasn't until all four of us were together that I began to experience the real joy of Easter. That is only fitting, since so much of what I have learned about myself, my faith and my God this Lent has been through my family.

It seems that much of my prayer and reflection throughout the Triduum focused on the relationships that Jesus had with his friends and family. This year I had an acute awareness of what their pain, confusion, fear and helplessness may have been as they witnessed the horror of Jesus' murder. One of the many lessons of Easter, however, is that these same people also experienced unexpected and unexplainable consolation, comfort, peace and joy. These relationships between Jesus and his friends were foundational not only for the early Church, but provide valuable insight for us today.

We are communal beings and we need the support and friendship of one another to fully experience the Resurrection. In the coming days we will again hear the post-Resurrection stories of Jesus' various appearances to his disciples. In each of these episodes Jesus is revealed to the community as it is gathered together, whether it be a community of only two on the road to Emmaus, or to his gathered friends in the Upper Room.

More than ever, this Easter for me has been about community. I have experienced the Risen Christ this entire Lent through my wife, children, friends, family, students, the Ignatian Associates community and complete strangers. To all of you I owe a debt of thanks for your prayers and support, your kind words and your questions, your inspiration to me through the example of your own deep and abiding faith. In you I have seen the best of what humanity has to offer as it responds in loving kindness to the call of the Creator.
 
To my Christian friends I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for each of you and I pray that the story of the Resurrection can inspire each of us to see the world through eyes of hope and peace. To my Muslim friends in cyberspace, I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for your fortitude and unrelenting faith in Allah which have inspired this remarkable experience these past six and a half weeks. And for all of us, I pray for an understanding that will lead beyond mere tolerance and toward a compassion that, rooted only in God, will lead us all to a lasting peace.


 

He Is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia!

"Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified.

He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay!"

Matthew 28:5-6

Alleluia! Alleluia!

I intend to write more later, but I did want to take a moment to wish you all a blessed Easter and a joyous celebration of the Resurrection. May not only this day but each and every day be filled with the life, light, hope and joy of the Risen Christ.

The fast is over and it is a New Day.  Happy Easter to you and yours! 

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Day 46: Holy Saturday

 

My childhood memories of Holy Saturday are that it was kind of a day spent in limbo. It didn't carry all the excitement and suspense of Christmas Eve nor all the austerity and sadness of Good Friday. It was more of a day of preparation and recovery. Mom would put some eggs, bread and sausage (and always a bottle of horseradish) for Easter Sunday's meal into a couple of baskets and we would take them to church where Father would bless them as part of a tradition popular among the Poles. Part of the day would be spent coloring eggs and helping in the kitchen, but overall, I always recall the day feeling kind of "numb" to me. Now that I have a few more years under my belt and some deeply personal experiences of death, I might compare the day's feeling to that of a wake: one is emotionally drained from the initial shock of the loss of a loved one, leaving behind a headache, a racing mind and a general sense that the whole thing is surreal and can't be true. This is a dream right? This really can't be happening, can it? 

I really have not had that feeling about Holy Saturday for many years, but I sense that today is going to be like that for me once again . . . torn between the anticipation of what is to come but not being able to fully let go of that which has already happened.

The question du jour yesterday from the friends I ran into at the Walk for Justice was, "I bet you can't wait until Sunday, can you?" (In this sense, I felt a connection to the Muslim experience of Ramadan where it is very common to ask one another, "How is the fast?") Surprisingly, I don't have much of a ready response for that question. For some reason, I felt a bit uneasy talking about it. It made me question one last time whether or not I should have blogged about the fast. It has been a constant internal battle for me trying to come to terms with sharing this deeply personal experience in such a public fashion and I guess it will be that way until the bitter end. "Yeah," I would say, "I will certainly be glad when Easter is here." But deep down there was so much more I could have said. Self-doubt is not one of my more endearing qualities.

About an hour and a half ago I woke up early for what will have been my final pre-sunrise breakfast on what may prove to be one of the longest days this entire Lent. We will be attending the Easter Vigil at 8:00pm and I am presuming that Mass will be about two hours long, potentially making it as much as sixteen hours between meals. As such I have been both looking forward to and dreading this day all week.

And perhaps that is what this day may have been like for Jesus' family and friends. The reality of what happened the day before weighed heavy on their hearts, making this day a painful one full of doubt, fear and lingering sadness. At the same time they must have been looking to the future and asking, "What next? Where do we go from here?"

That is a question I ask myself, "What next? Where do I go from here?" Perhaps the joy of Easter will bring some clarity to this, but I doubt it. In many ways I feel like I have not even begun to understand the meaning of the past forty-six days. Being able to eat whenever I please is not really going to be an answer either. Offering material answers to spiritual questions seems a tactic necessarily doomed to failure. Maybe that is the real gift of this Lenten Ramadan . . . a conditioning of the self into a heightened awareness of what lies beyond the stomach and the mind, a recognition of the God who is both present to me and escapes my grasp at the same time.

Meanwhile, like Jesus' friends I will wait, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Day 45: Good Friday

What can I write about Good Friday and the suffering and death of Jesus that hasn't already been written by countless Church Fathers and theologians or preached in a million homilies and sermons in churches across the globe throughout history? Nothing, I presume, and that is fine. I am just one of billions of people on this planet trying to make sense of the historical events of this day and I would be foolish to think that I possess a depth of insight that can offer anything.

All of Lent has been building up to these moments and here I sit in front of the computer uncertain of what to write. It is the morning of Good Friday and I am not sure when I will have the opportunity to do this later. With the Walk for Justice, a three hour car ride to my in-laws and what will no doubt be a busy evening with playing kids and conversation, the only thing I am certain of today is that this is the one and only time I will be available to write.

And so I am empty.

And maybe emptiness is one of the myriad meanings of this day. We often hear of Jesus "emptying himself" on the cross, and that is true enough, but the emptiness of which I am thinking is the emptiness of hopelessness and abandonment and fear. That is something that speaks to me each Good Friday . . . the emptiness I feel as a human being for what we not only did to Jesus some two thousand years ago but the emptiness which comes from not learning our lesson. How many people today must feel the same hopelessness and abandonment expressed by Jesus in his final moments of life as we know it as he cried out, "My God! My God! Why have you abandoned me!" How many people today feel this through their mourning, their poverty, their imprisonment, their victimization at the hands of another, their spiraling further and further into the depths of addiction, their unplanned pregnancy, their impending deportation, their job loss, their physical limitations, their psychological state, their political oppression, their firsthand experience of the destruction of war and violence or any untold other afflictions that haunt the human family day in and day out.

I believe in my heart that these days of the Triduum speak to that kind of emptiness. To ignore that there is suffering is to be naive. To sugar-coat the suffering of others by glibly saying that "It is God's will" or "It will be OK," as well-intentioned as it may be, fails to recognize the genuine pain that is so real in our lives. To say that Jesus, due to his divinity, was able to overcome the pain of the cross in some super-human way because he knew what it was all about seems not only to be a borderline heresy, but it ignores the reality of the Incarnation. God became human and knows the pain we feel. I don't see the cross as some glorification of suffering or the final proof that Jesus suffered more than we will ever know. I see the cross as Jesus' complete and total identification of our suffering and the affirmation that God is with us in our humanity no matter what. Jesus did not suffer to attract our attention and adoration. He did not suffer to prove to us once and for all that he is the Messiah. He did not suffer so that we would be repulsed to the point where we felt we would have no choice but to receive his message see his death as salvific. Jesus' suffering is the ultimate act of meeting us where we are. It is an affirmation that our suffering is real, that he shares in it, that the forces of darkness in this world often seem to prevail against even the most innocent and holy among us.

What makes this day even remotely tolerable, of course, is the fact that we have the benefit of knowing how the story ends. What ultimately allows us to swallow this bitter pill is the knowledge of what happens on Easter morning. But Jesus' closest friends did not have the luxury of that knowledge. His mother did not have that source of comfort. It is a point of theological debate as to what extent Jesus himself even knew of the outcome. And even in our own suffering, as we live amidst the cloud of doubt and uncertainty that is the human condition, even for those of us with the deepest conviction of faith we may find only a little peace at the moment of our greatest anguish.

Knowing the end of the story, however, is not a cop out. It is essential. That is at the very heart of the gospel message.

But today we are empty and that cannot be denied. I pray that Easter will forever come and that we will not lose hope in the face of that emptiness.

Day 44: Holy Thursday

This evening's liturgy at St. John's at Creighton was beautiful. From the moment the entire congregation joined in the heartfelt singing of "Holy God We Praise Thy Name" and the scent of incense began to permeate the air until the final, solemn moments when the altar was stripped, I felt not only a close attachment to everyone gathered in faith in that sacred space, but also a communion with Christians throughout the world who join in prayer and remembrance of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in these Holy Days of the Triduum. I also felt intense hunger since Mass began at 7:30 and lasted an hour and forty-five minutes, making it fifteen hours between meals today. 

One of the unique aspects of the Holy Thursday liturgy is the "washing of the feet," a symbolic recollection of the thirteenth chapter of John's Gospel and Jesus' action of humbling himself to cleanse the feet of his friends. I have always found this to be a powerful story and its subsequent inclusion in the Holy Thursday Mass is poignant and moving. Father Roc O'Connor was the presider this evening and he offered an inspiring and thought-provoking homily. As he plumbed the relationship between Jesus and Peter in this Gospel story, he paid special note to Peter's response to Jesus' desire to wash his feet. He suggested that Peter's refusal was out of a fear of being challenged to be someone and do something that he did not want. I had often considered Peter's noncompliance as the result of the dynamics of a master/servant relationship (which it, in part, may have been), but I had never thought of it as fear. 

This notion hit home with me and my experience throughout this Lent. I am as aware as ever of the choices I make in life that are based in the fear of needing to change. The fear of living more simply and what that means I will need to let go of. The fear of being more available to people and how that will cut into "me time" and what I deem important. The fear of people who are different than me and how seeing others as images of Christ necessarily shakes my world up a bit. The fear of not having all the answers and taking the risk to being vulnerable, open and honest with others. In some ways I have made small strides in some of these areas this Lent. In other ways I am only begin to realize these fears exist.

I am deeply moved by the way that St. John's includes the washing of feet within the liturgy. Many parishes choose twelve people ahead of time to represent the apostles in a sort of reenactment. But at St. John's everyone is invited to get up and go to one of several stations throughout the church and to have her or his feet washed and, in turn, wash the feet of another. I intended to participate in this before we even went to Mass. What I had not anticipated was that Aidan would also want to participate. Here is a small way that I have been changed this Lent . . . when he leaned over and said that he'd like to have his feet washed, instead of telling him, "No, it's only for adults," I told him, "Sure." I was proud that he wanted to be a part of things and I do not ever want to discourage anything that can serve as a positive faith experience and reminder for him down the road. 

Washing my seven year old son's feet was something I cannot find the words for right now. It struck me that being a parent is, in many ways, a life of service. It was my way of telling him, "there is nothing I won't do for you." I have no illusions that he understood it that way, but it became a sort of recommitment on my behalf to what it means for me to be a father and husband.

In retrospect, I have one regret . . . because he was a little nervous, I let Aidan bow out of having to wash my feet. Perhaps it was for the best or perhaps, like Peter, I was afraid and not yet ready to be open to the challenges that such an action would present. In this simple choice is all the evidence I need to show me how far I have yet to grow.

Day 43: Six Week Update

It is hard to believe it has been six weeks.  Where did the time go?  Here's my final weekly offering of miscellaneous ramblings:

• Omaha as "inter-faith capital of the world?"  From beyond the world of Lenten Ramadan comes this wonderful column from this past Sunday's Omaha World Herald. The "Tri-Faith Initiative" is an Omaha partnership between Temple Israel, The Episcopal Diocese of Nebraska and The American Institute of Islamic Studies and Culture. The current vision of the group is to create an "inter-faith campus" that would include Jewish, Muslim and Christian houses of worship as well as shared space for conferences, workshops and ongoing education and dialog. David Liepert, a Canadian Muslim author and radio host, is quoted as saying that he thinks this venture may be the first of its kind in the world. Hope for peace and understanding springs forth from the fertile soil of America's heartland! 

• And the award for dumbest decision goes to . . .  Looking back on Lenten Ramadan I have to say that the most foolish (and dangerous!) decision I made was to observe the fast while skiing in Colorado. You may recall my experience from Days Three and Four. Skiing pretty hard on Day Three without eating anything and without drinking water was ill-advised and downright dumb. I am certain that Friday night I was suffering from either dehydration or altitude sickness or a combination of both. Only after returning to Omaha and doing some further research did I discover that one is not expected to fast while traveling during Ramadan. Oops. Hindsight is 20/20 I suppose and I should have looked into this prior to the trip. In my defense it was the third and fourth days of Lent and I was very excited and energized for Lenten Ramadan. If we had gone skiing in Week Three I doubt this would have happened.  C'est la vie.

• Things I am most looking forward to in a post-Lent world.  Yesterday several students asked me what I was looking forward to most about Lent being over. There are so many things! The first thing I am looking forward to is the joyful celebration of Easter Sunday. We will be at my in-laws where there is always an abundant spread of food at holidays. Usually I try to hold back and take it easy, not wanting any particular holiday go too much to my waistband, but this year . . . no holds barred! I promise the family that I will try my best to share. In particular, I look forward to the Polish sausage from Frank Stoysich Meats, where I have been procuring this Easter tradition for the past ten years. I always associate good, quality, homemade Polish sausage with Easter ever since my childhood in Indiana (all apologies to my vegetarian friends). A second thing I am looking forward to is sleeping in on the weekends. I am not a huge "late sleeper," but on a Saturday I do enjoy staying in bed until 7:30 or 8:00. During Lenten Ramadan I have had to rise earlier and earlier on the weekends so I can make sure I eat before sunrise. I will welcome this change with open arms and closed eyelids. A third area of anticipation is in being able to eat meals with everyone else. The food will be fresh and hot and I won't feel so voyeuristic watching (and hearing!) other people eat. I'll feel like part of the family again. I am very interested to see how this effects how I eat throughout the day. I foresee less snacking and much more self-control in my eating habits. We shall see. At any rate, as wonderful as this entire experience has been, I am ready to return to "normal."

• Triduum plans.  I always look forward to the celebration of the Triduum, but since the birth of our kids I have not attended the services as often as I would like. This year I am certainly making it a point to fully experience these beautiful liturgies in all their symbolic glory. The evening of Holy Thursday will find us at a soup supper with the Ignatian Associates followed by the Mass of the Lord's Supper at St. John's at Creighton. Mass is at 7:30 and so dinner for me tomorrow night will be pushed back a bit. On Good Friday I will be at the "Walk for Justice" in downtown Omaha. It is a traditional Stations of the Cross which also focuses our prayer for those in our world who suffer crucifixions daily due to the injustices perpetuated by our social structures. If you are in the Omaha area, I encourage you to attend. Bring your walking shoes! I may or may not attend Good Friday services at our parish in the afternoon. It all depends on the timing. Holy Saturday we will be at my in-laws in central Nebraska. I have not attended the Easter Vigil in several years and am eager to be at the Mass celebrated by one of my very best friends who is a priest in Kearney, Nebraska. The Vigil will certainly pose one last challenge. It starts before sunset at 8:00pm and typically runs in the ballpark of one and a half to two hours. Afterwards, we plan on celebrating the Resurrection with libations and the world's best onion rings at "The Cellar." I just might have an entire basket all to myself!  

• One last weigh-in.  A final step on the scale today indicated that I had not lost any additional weight in the past week. My total weight loss for the six weeks of Lent has been ten pounds. I am glad the weight started coming off more slowly toward the end, but I am not sure why as I really did not feel like a changed much in my eating habits this past week from what I had done earlier in Lent. Perhaps my body has just become accustomed to the fasting. At any rate, it is a slimmer me now than on March 9. I am eager to begin some exercise too. I generally avoided strenuous exercise during Lent out of fear of the dehydration I experienced in Colorado. But now I think I am motivated to get up and get moving.

• Shukran.  Or "thank you" in Arabic. Thank you to everyone who has asked a question, said a prayer, posted a comment, passed Lenten Ramadan on to a friend, "liked" a post on facebook or just stumbled upon the blog through a Google search of "ramadan lent pants" (I kid you not). Thank you as well for your openness to seeing Christianity and Islam in what may perhaps be a different light than you are accustomed to. Today has seen the highest traffic yet on the blog and there have been nearly 1400 pageviews since Ash Wednesday. Maybe together we can change the attitudes of fear and suspicion that so often permeate discussions of religion in our world.