Lent: How the Ancient Christian Practice Might Transform Easter This Year
I feel like Lent is vital this year. Granted, that could well be my Anglican upbringing giving me a comforting hug, but I can’t escape the feeling that the ancient Christian practice is particularly, pressingly relevant for 2022.
Lent, as we practice it, isn’t found in Scripture – it’s an early (think fourth century) Christian template to prepare one’s heart for Easter. The name ‘lent’ is derived from Middle English vocab for ‘spring,’ which is appropriate for a northern hemisphere Easter (and helps explain where all the Easter eggs, chicks and bunnies come from). Ash Wednesday marks the start of this season, and the 40 days (not including Sundays) leading up to Easter Sunday are spent thoughtfully examining oneself, devoting particular time to Scripture and prayer, and preparing one’s heart to receive Christ crucified afresh.
The specific forty-ness of Lent finds its significance all throughout the Biblical narrative, but is often understood to follow Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. Traditional denominations may observe Lent together, as a church body, and as part of the wider church calendar, but Lenten practices are seen all over the Christian landscape, and have been for centuries. It’s common for people to ‘give something up’ (food-related, social media, shoes, you name it) to reduce distractions and dependencies, but the ‘picking something up’ (to read, to do, to give to, etc.) is a critical and often neglected second half of the practice. Self-discipline is the tool to shift our focus, not the goal itself—the goal is to draw closer to Jesus.
As I write this, the Ukraine situation is horrific. Omicron case numbers are higher than ever. Particularly as an Aucklander, close contacts and positive cases are becoming far more real, and are now actual people in my life that I know. Here’s my case for why Lent might be the timely, God-given gift for the church right now.
Lent provides ancient rhythms to lean into, in our very arhythmic and chaotic world.
I love the Baptist church that I’m currently apart of, and I believe strongly in God’s work amongst us. The thing I miss most, however, about the Anglican tradition and others like it is the pattern. There’s a practice for most everything, and while that can certainly skew itself in various undesirable directions, the deep well of prayer and rhythm is such a gift. Those rhythms give us words when we’ve lost ours, and help scaffold our spiritual lives in a gentle, deliberate, ordered way when our realities are anything but.
This year is already turbulent. Globally, the world faces crisis after crisis. My internal world is still dealing with the shock of the last couple of years, and at times I feel like I have little to no framework on which to begin reorienting my humanity. Lent has come at an ideal time – it’s an extended, yet contained season of being deliberate about matters of the soul; structured, yet wide open and forgiving; personal, yet collective. A framework to begin reorientation towards Christ, yet again.
Lent facilitates self-examination and humility, in a time suffocatingly thick with opinion.
In this ‘information age,’ and in this particular time filled with all levels of controversy, opinions are everywhere – we can encounter the full gamut of perspectives on any possible issue on any given day with one quick Facebook scroll. There’s pressure to find like-minded individuals to lobby for change, or against change, with; pressure to have an articulate, nuanced answer to the sorrows and injustices of the world and what we should do about them (should anybody ask).
Thoughtful, Christ-like conversations are essential, don’t get me wrong. Convictions are important, and active change in the world is extremely necessary. But, perhaps we ought to start with the one in the mirror; what is going on with me? Where we may be tempted to scramble to prove that we’re right, Lent invites us to perhaps stop talking for a moment, and to listen to the Spirit instead. Where we feel the need to defend our pride, Lent prompts us to crucify it. Where the specks are abundant in everyone’s eyes, Lent offers us space to notice our logs. Where we face an urgency to create the right (and not the wrong) kind of change in the world, perhaps a Lenten attentiveness to what change the Spirit of Jesus would make in us is equally revolutionary.
Lent creates a period of enforced slowness, discomfort and depth in a season that lends itself to busyness, consumerism, or escape.
We’re likely aware that Easter can easily slip into centering around what it’s actually not about – classic human behaviour. Western culture can use the Easter season to overly feed our consumerist tendencies, or our escapist ones – rest is important, but getting away for the weekend isn’t quite the point. Or, it can swing the other way; as a youth worker and a long-time pastor’s kid, Easter involves an extraordinary level of admin in my experience (personally it’s in strong competition with Christmas). Whether that’s for all the layers of church events and services on the calendar, or for taking a crew of teenagers to a huge camp, Easter and the weeks prior can be a busy, logistically heavy, list-laden season. Worthwhile? Absolutely. Distracting? Oh yeah.
Lent isn’t Easter, but it is a long, steady run-up. Lent asks us for presence, not escape. It encourages us to go deep, not to stretch ourselves thin. It values sacrifice and willingness, not self-interest. Lent even asks us to become purposefully uncomfortable, that there the Spirit might also make us holy. Doing Lent well can dig deep foundations, equipping us to go forth and do Easter well.
Lent points us to hope, joy and anticipation present amidst brokenness and tragedy.
We can’t deny the chaos our world is in right now, even beyond the obvious issues. The ‘now and not yet’ tension of the kingdom of heaven can sometimes feel significantly weighted towards not yet. Where on earth, literally, is God’s kingdom at work? What are we hoping for? Where do we look? Lent reminds us twofold.
The structure of the Lenten season provides a sense of contrast, setting us up for glimpses of this kingdom amongst the ordinary. Sometimes people miss this handy clause: we get Sundays off! The day we tend to gather with our church body is also the day we can, if appropriate, enjoy the things we’ve stripped ourselves of. Times of abundance and celebration are built into the Lenten practice, serving us refreshing weekly reminders of the joy and redemption of the kingdom already amongst us.
The trajectory of Lent also tells a story. We spend weeks in self-denial, repentance and prayer, but towards a certain end. We choose death now, in the hope that we receive fresh life soon. We actively sit in the anticipation that there is an end to this season, where all things are made right and new. There’s a sense of building up towards something magnificent.
In a world that feels like it’s going ballistic, perhaps this Lenten orientation is the re-calibrating season that we need. A way to remember that while death might be now, life is coming soon – and indeed, is already amongst us! A way to recall that there is an end to this season; there is something magnificent to hope for.
Lent begins this Ash Wednesday, 2nd of March, and concludes on Easter Sunday, 17th April. It might be the season you didn’t know you needed this year. Perhaps the Spirit will surprise you. Are you ready?
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Grace Paddison is currently a student at Carey Baptist College - Te Kareti o Iriiri o Carey and is a regular contributor to Metanoia. Check our supporters program if you are interested in helping us produce more content like this.
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Some Ash Wednesday Services:
Auckland. St Barnabas Anglican Church, 7:30pm.
Auckland. Trinity Cathedral, 7:30pm.
Auckland. Papakura Anglican Church, 10am and 7pm.
Hamilton. St Peter’s Cathedral, 7pm.
Wellington. St Peter’s on Willis, 7:30am, 12:15pm, and 6:30pm.
Christchurch. Transitional Cathedral, 7:30am and 12:05pm.
Dunedin. St Paul’s Cathedral, 12pm and 7pm.