Lenten Questions
Lent is a time for repentance and self-reflection, which is part of the reason why I decided to give up making jokes. You’re supposed to fast from something, and I thought this would allow me to tap into the somber tone of Lent. Plus, I have been reading Paths to Prayer: A Field Guide to Ten Catholic Traditions by Pat Fosarelli as a part of my ongoing fascination with monastic practices. Apparently, the Rule of St. Benedict forbade laughter, and the Cistercians–my beloved Trappists!–believed that the monk’s whole life should be characterized by observance of Lent.
So as I have tried to abstain from being sarcastic and silly, Lent for me has been filled with continual repentance. That’s no joke, even if it is amusing. Maybe I need to repent of that, too.
As for self-reflection, I get only so far when I attempt to interrogate myself. Maybe that’s like trying to tickle yourself. There needs to be some surprise behind the questioning to make it effective. As the one interrogated, I have already begun to posture because I know the question that is coming and why it is being asked. As interrogator, I am too gullible, taking the answers at face value and letting the suspect off too easily.
Then, I was reading through the Gospel of Mark and noticed that Jesus asks quite a few searching questions. Questions I don’t usually ask myself–questions I might not think to ask. I love in chapter ten when he asks James and John, who have just requested honor and prestige and power in his kingdom, “Are you able to drink this cup?” What a challenging question to ask before communion… but perhaps I will write about that later.
I hope to write about quite a few of them. Actually, this post launched into one of the questions, and it became way too long to put with the setup I am giving here. So I will post it tomorrow. It’s Jesus’ question to the rich young ruler, “Why do you call me good?” Tune in tomorrow!
I just read that same passage in Mark but in reference to baptism.
I can’t imagine living a life with no laughter…and I can’t imagine why monks would feel the need to do that. But then again I’m a person who laughs at every possible opportunity and one of my favorite pieces of art that I’ve ever seen of Jesus is a picture of Jesus laughing. I choose laughter over crying if possible. I choose joy over sorrow if I can. I choose to live in the constant awareness of the goodness of God. I understand this time of year is supposed to make us feel sorrowful and repentant and I do understand those emotions. But I tend to feel like those aren’t places that I need to stay…maybe for a time and for some self reflection. But I don’t want to live my life in a state of what I would consider “grief”.
Side note…I’ll be glad when you feel like you can joke again. I loved…loved having Mary Lou speak Sunday night and one reason was simply that I knew we would laugh as a body…that felt so right and good and healthy.
Looking forward to your next post…have a great day!
Ruth, I agree that the practice of the Monks seems strange. That’s part of why it is intriguing. I don’t think I could live a life without laughing, and without being able to make other people laugh. I wouldn’t know my role in society anymore. Really. That’s why I gave up joking, because it bothers me that I wouldn’t know my identity if I didn’t have that. So we’ll see what i find.
But there’s also something about God’s goodness that can produce sorrow. You said you choose laughter over crying, you choose joy over sorrow, you choose awareness of the goodness of God. So it sounds like you’re saying laughter and joy belong to awareness of God’s goodness while crying and sorrow do not. But I think the monks would say awareness of God’s goodness is exactly what they are pursuing through living a lifetime of Lent. Laughter + joy = awareness of God’s goodness. But maybe tears + sorrow = awareness of God’s goodness as well. In monk-speak, both consolation and desolation are necessary.
i can’t wait to hear how this goes for you! i like these thoughts you are having. i just finished reading about the necessity of sitting in the utter tragedy of the gospel story–that it’s just as important as the comedy of the gospel, and to move to quickly through the tragedy is to sabotage the comedy!
I like that thought very much. I think I remember reading on your blog that it’s from a book by Frederick Beuchner?
that is the one! it is a beautiful book.
[…] the problem, and why I need your help: I have given up joking for Lent, but this idea is hilarious. A good percentage of the hilarity is a direct result of my impeccable […]