Rev. Cwirla's Blogosphere

Having deconstructed Ash Wednesday, I thought I’d write something constructive on a Lenten topic, seeing as how we are in the middle of Lent.  One of the traditional pieties of Lent is fasting, something with which my theology and constitution have never been entirely predisposed, though I’ve never been entirely opposed to it either.

I’m fully aware that our Lord tacitly expected His disciples would fast when He began his instruction to them by saying, “When you fast...”  He also told them to keep their public displays of piety to themselves, to wash their faces, comb their hair, and not tell anyone they’re fasting (Mt 6:16-18).  He said similar things about prayer and giving to the poor.  I’m also aware that the apostle Paul took a rather dim view of regulations that said “Do not handle” and “Do not taste” (the proto-gnostics were big on fasting and strange diets).  He noted that these things “have the appearance of wisdom in promoting rigor of devotion and self-abasement and severity to the body, but they are of no value in checking the indulgence of the flesh” (Col 2:23).

I’m also aware that the same apostle Paul acknowledged that bodily training has some value (1 Tim 4:8), and that he himself disciplined his own body in order to make it more efficient so that he wasn’t flailing at the air (1 Cor. 9:27).  Luther himself notes in the Small Catechism with regard to the reception of the Lord’s Supper, that “fasting and bodily preparation are a good external discipline.”  I’m also aware of how any practice of personal piety can become a legalism in the hands of someone trying to merit favor with God.

Attempting to chart a course between the Scylla of boasting and the Charybdis of legalism, while avoiding a public display of piety and thereby receiving unwanted praise of men, I am writing in praise of fasting.

Let me state at the outset that I take a rather undisciplined approach to discipline.  My personality type tends to chafe at arbitrary rules and my focus is easily drawn to whatever catches my eye at the moment.  One result of my lack of discipline is that I tend to be a jack of many trades and a master of none.  I’m an average musician, a mediocre athlete, a so-so woodworker, and I never had the patience with footnotes to pursue a doctorate in either chemistry or theology.  I’m a dabbler, a reality with which I am at complete peace and rest in my middle age.  Leave the pursuit of excellence to the compulsively focused; I embrace mediocrity.

Needless to say, this kind of mentality does not lend well to rigorous fasting.  It doesn’t do much for disciplined prayer, either.  I have friends who can sit still for hours in prayer and meditation.  I get bored in five minutes.  I pay the price for this restlessness with high blood pressure and a generally anxious demeanor.  By grace are we saved.

A friend of mine and I have been comparing notes on our Lenten fasts.  My fast goes in two directions.  First, I’m having my usual fast from television, which I tend to watch impulsively and at times compulsively, even though I don’t have cable.  This is not to say that I don’t watch TV during Lent, only that I watch it intentionally - only a select program or two and nothing more.  The time saved is spent in the wood shop or with a good book.

The second dimension of my Lenten fast is to skip lunch.  I love food and drink.  I’m a card carrying foodie and an intolerable wine snob.  I believe food and drink are the two greatest 1st article gifts from our Father in heaven.  It’s no accident of evolution that the nose is located directly over the mouth.  I abhor dieting, which, as I learned from Robert Farar Capon, is a gnostic religion designed to enrich the “enlightened” teachers who publish their secret knowledge at the expense of their devoted disciples who get fatter all the time and feel guilty to boot.  I believe that dieting takes all the fun out of feasting, just as tea totaling takes all the gladness out of a good glass of Cabernet.

I don’t actually skip lunch, and I don’t do it religiously.  Instead of my usual, I substitute a piece of fruit and a handful of nuts.  There is enough of a pang to remind me that I’m hungry, but not enough so that I keel over behind my desk.  If someone wants to chat theology over lunch, I won’t turn them down, especially if they’re buying.  This is, after all, between God and me, this little piece notwithstanding.  The money I save, I tuck in an envelope in my desk and use it to enrich our congregation’s alms box for the poor.  Sometimes I’ll just hand it to the panhandler who hangs out at the end of the block.  The time I save in not eating lunch, I use for the oratio and meditatio that Luther says make a theologian.  I leave the tentatio to my congregation’s board meetings.

There have been a few amazing Lenten revelations thus far.  I’ve learned that I get hungry by the clock.  If I let noon go by, my urge to eat usually disappears.  I am truly a creature of habit.  Maybe that's why I'm so liturgical. 

I’ve also relearned how to eat intentionally.  By eating “intentionally,” I mean looking at each piece of food and thinking, “Am I really hungry, and do I really want to eat this thing?”  I once lost 20 pounds simply by eating anything I wanted intentionally.  I’ve also discovered that things taste better when you eat them intentionally.  It’s the difference between how a drunkard and a wine connoisseur approach a glass of wine.  The drunkard uses the wine for what it does; the connoisseur appreciates the wine for what it is.  I am more likely to praise God from whom all blessings flow, if I take the time to appreciate the blessing for what it is before I stuff it in my face and go for more.

I’ve also found that my brain works a bit better, and the synapses fire a bit more reliably if I’m not so bloated.  This has led me to rediscover the joys of the Lutheran Confessions in their original languages and also the church fathers, which I rarely have the patience to read.  I’ve also been a little more generous with the panhandlers around the neighborhood, and no, I have no idea, nor do I much care, what they do with the money.  I’m a pastor not a social worker.

I’m not a huge fan of signs and wonders, which I'm aware can deceive even the elect, and being a scientist, I tend to look first for rational explanations for things, but I wanted to share an unusual by-product of this year’s Lenten fast.  Over the last few months, I have been experiencing an annoying cardiac arrhythmia, which is an extra beat followed by a pause that feels like a skipped beat.  The medicine man assures me that this is “perfectly normal” and “nothing to worry about,” and that “lots of people experience this.”  I think I know what I’m going to have engraved on my tombstone:  The doctor said it was nothing to worry about.

About a week ago, for no good reason, the irregular heartbeats simply stopped and haven’t returned.  When I went to the medicine man and asked him why this would be, he said, “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t worry about it.”  For the first time in a long time, I actually sleep and feel better, and have even embraced my vocation with some measure of renewed vigor.

Here’s what I think happened.  I suffer from a hiatal hernia, an annoying condition where part of your stomach pushes up into your chest cavity giving you nasty heartburn and, as I’ve learned anecdotally, irregular heartbeats.  It appears that my intentionally eating less has shrunk the old stomach back into its proper place.  No wonder the medieval types called “gluttony” a mortal sin!  It’ll kill you.  I'm not proposing this as a medical diagnosis, and no, medicine is not one of my dabblings, but this is the only decent explanation I have.  Of course, feeling better and not having your heart skip like a lame race horse does tend to give you that peace like a river and all is well with my soul feeling which some might equate with things "spiritual."

I think it’s safe to say that the body, soul, spirit, mind, heart, and however else you want to slice and dice us human creatures, are in the end a delightful whole, and what's good for the body is also good for the soul, and vice versa.  A little Lenten discipline goes a long way toward appreciating all the good gifts of God - from a sweet hour of prayer, to a chance to give to those in need, to a heart that beats with some degree of predictability.  Not too bad for a piece of fruit and a handful of nuts at noon.

I’m not sure if this is how this spiritual discipline stuff is supposed to work, but that’s how it worked for me.  Your mileage may, of course, vary.

Have a happy Lent.