A Thick, Juicy Lenten Steak
In the “good ole days” of the Latin Mass and fish on Friday, it was easy to identify the classic Irish Catholic drunk.
[In those days, he was “a drunk” not today’s more sensitive “alcohol dependent individual.”]
Come early February, he’d proudly declare his intention to “give up drinking for Lent” and then sweat waiting for Laetare Sunday – a quick break from all that fasting and abstinence. The mid-point in the 40 days of fasting and abstinence, Laetare Sunday takes its name from the opening prayer of that day’s Mass: “Laetare Jerusalem - Rejoice, O Jerusalem.” For the regular schmo alcoholic it was “Budweiser Sunday.”
[Of course, he had already broken his Lenten resolve for St. Patrick’s Day because,… “Well, it’s St. Paddy’s Day!” No matter he was of German or Italian or (God forbid!) English heritage.]
As we approach Ash Wednesday, a day of prescribed fasting and abstinence – February 17 this year, I pray for a long-time friend.
I know it’s terrible grammar; but he’s the goodest of the goodest. So genuinely good that, at the Heavenly Banquet, he will be seated somewhere between St. Francis of Assisi and St. Paul – despite the fact that he is a third-generation graduate of that post-high school institution in South Bend.
During college vacations he trekked across large swaths of India and spent a summer as a volunteer in a middle-of-nowhere orphanage in Chile. After college, he volunteered for a few years with the Maryknoll China Service project, teaching at an out-of-the-way university that could not afford native American English speakers. Following China, he worked with an NGO (non-governmental organization) in Nepal, interviewing victims of torture and human rights abuses – an experience that would break almost any genuinely human heart.
Trekking through Thailand on his way home, he was bitten by a rabid dog. By the time he arrived in Bangkok, he was so sick a physician could only give him an anti-rabies shot, which – he cautioned – “probably won’t work,” and tell him to down a fistful of aspirin before attempting to go through the health security check in the airport.
Returning to the States right on time for his close-knit family’s Thanksgiving dinner, he was as “shell shocked” as many vets coming back from the Iraq-Afghanistan war. When we began almost daily cross-country telephone counseling, his PTSD confined this once carefree world traveler, who never seemed to stop smiling, to his parents’ home – afraid to journey anywhere and convinced his life was “over.”
I still remember the conversation when he noted, “Ash Wednesday is coming up. What can I give up for Lent?”
“NOTHING!!!!” I yelled from Miami to the Rockies. “You’ve suffered enough. You’ve spent a lifetime serving others. You’re NOT giving up anything for Lent! ‘We’re Easter People and Alleluia is our song,’” I cited Pope John Paul II. “In fact, when we finish this call, I want you to tell your parents ‘Father says we’re having thick, juicy steaks on Wednesday. Lent is not about ‘giving up.’ It’s about what we are going to do new or differently to make ourselves, our families, our communities better. What we can do to bring the Kingdom of God just a little closer. Tell your folks ‘Father Skip says we have to have steaks this Ash Wednesday.’” [In those days “Father says” could still be a major power play with traditional Irish families]
As we approach Ash Wednesday in the midst of a pandemic and struggle through the rhetoric of hate-spewing politically militant groups claiming to be the “keepers” of oaths or “proud” – without justification – of their militancy or their imitation of patriots of ole, I’ll pray again for my friend and plan to enjoy a “thick, juicy steak.”
This year, I pray that some American Christians will “give up” - at least for the forty days of Lent, including St. Patrick’s Day and Laetare Sunday – listening to hate mongers who deny the validity of Mr. Biden’s election; who want to “stop the (non) steal” and who make threats against the lives of Republican and Democratic politicians; anyone who displays the flag of Southern slavery and prejudice; the Know-Nothings of anti-vaxxers; and conspiracy theories of every sort.
Take Lent off from every and all of these and the cable and radio networks that push them. Forty-two days after Ash Wednesday, ask yourself if you are better off without those burdens, if your life is better, if – strange as it may seem – you are closer to God, to the Family of God’s People and to yourself.
Fill Lent with books and educational programs available – often for free – that will give you an honest sense of history, an appreciation of the wonders of Creation, or a sense of awe at the majesty of ancient cathedrals and Renaissance master pieces.
Admittedly, I’m a slow learner; that’s why it took me so long to finish college, then seminary and finally my doctorate. But, as a prison chaplain, I was astounded by the seemingly endless parade of young men who reported “never” having read or “really read” a book in their lives. I kept a pile of paperback copies of Catcher In the Rye in my office; I’d give them to inmates, explaining that – in the late 1980s – it was “the most banned book in America.” Giving them a “banned book” was a way of introducing them to the world reading.
This Lent, turn off the cable TV and try reading:
Martyrs of Hope: Seven U.S. Missioners in Central America. The stories of five American women and two men who gave their lives in service to the Gospel and the poorest of the poor in the 1970s and 1980s. The Roman Catholic Church has officially declared Father Stanley Rotter the first American martyr in history; Brother James Miller was declared a martyr and beatified in November 2018; two of the women – Maryknoll Sisters Carla Piette and Ita Ford - were my personal friends. For those unfamiliar with their stories, this book may change your life and your understanding of the Gospels.
The Volunteer: The Story of the Resistance Hero Who Infiltrated Auschwitz. The courage of Polish army officer and Resistance hero Witold Pilecki puts the lie to rightwing White nationalism, anti-Semitism and Holocaust denialism now on the rise in America.
The Saint and the Sultan: The Crusades, Islam, and Francis of Assisi’s Mission of Peace. This story, known to few admirers of St. Francis, offers a special insight into the real possibilities for cooperation and mutual respect among Muslims and Christians
Separated: Inside and American Tragedy: Inside an American Tragedy. A searingly honest look at the damage of family separation.
Presidential Courage: Brave Leaders and How They Changed America. Any book by historian Michael Beschloss – and he has a shelfful - is worth the time and effort.
Valiant Ambition: George Washington, Benedict Arnold, and the Fate of the American Revolution. Nathaniel Philbrick offers a dynamic perspective on the betrayal of Benedict Arnold and just how close we came to speaking with a British accent.
Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption. After you’ve read the story of Louis Zamperini, you may never again consider giving-up on anything.
Leonardo DaVinci. Walter Isaacson’s biography offers a genuinely worthwhile deep dive into the life one of history’s most brilliant and creative minds.
1776. David McCullough’s Pulitzer Prize winning work gives powerful insights into the most critical year of the Revolutionary War and a new appreciation of the struggles of the early Continental Army.
Any book by historians John Meacham, Doris Kearns Goodwin or Michael Beschloss; they write big, thick books but completing them gives a sense of accomplishment and you’ll learn!
Jesus: A Pilgrimage. The product of a trip to the Holy Land with a fellow Jesuit, James Martin’s Jesus offers an amazingly easy-to-read combination of the latest biblical theology, anthropology, travelogue and Jesuit spirituality. His explorations and descriptions of geographical settings reported in the Gospels affords new insight into the travels, parables and teachings of Jesus. Among Father Martin’s other – highly recommended – books: The Jesuit To [Almost] Everything and the recently published Learning To Pray: A Guide for Everyone.
"Restless learners change the world” is the motto of edX.org, which offers more than three-thousand – yes, 3,000 – courses by faculties from the more than 160 universities, including Harvard, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Princeton, even that post-high school institution in South Bend, Indiana. Many of the lectures on the world’s religions and American History are beyond exceptional.
MasterClass.com has an $180 enrollment cost and TheGreatCourses.com has various fee options, but both offers classes in almost everything, including the world’s cuisines, how to be a comedian, gardening and how to train your new puppy, as well as an almost incalculable range of academic subjects. The philosophy, religion and history offerings are outstanding.
Abandon FaceBook – a truly lousy source - and social media as your sources of news and support your local newspapers.
If you wish to incorporate a more traditionally spiritual dynamic into your Pre-Easter Forty Days, learn from St. Francis of Assisi. Thomas of Celano, his first biographer, described Francis as “a man become prayer.” Tradition has it that Francis was so moved by the Muslim response to the adhan - Call To Prayer - he observed during his days in the camp of Sultan al-Kamil that, in the words of Brother Leo, one of Francis’s oldest and most constant companions, “two years before his death, the blessed Francis… composed these praises… and wrote them in his own hand, thanking God for the kindness bestowed up him...”
You are holy, Lord, the only God,
and Your deeds are wonderful.
You are strong.
You are great.
You are the Most High.
You are Almighty.
You, Holy Father are King of heaven and earth.
You are Three and One, Lord God, all Good.
You are Good, all Good, supreme Good, Lord God, living and true.
You are love. You are wisdom.
You are humility. You are endurance.
You are rest. You are peace.
You are joy and gladness.
You are justice and moderation.
You are all our riches, and You suffice for us.
You are beauty.
You are gentleness.
You are our protector.
You are our guardian and defender.
You are our courage. You are our haven and our hope.
You are our faith, our great consolation.
You are our eternal life, Great and Wonderful Lord,
God Almighty, Merciful Saviour.
This Lent let us imitate Francis and praise God! After all, “We’re Easter People and Alleluia is our song.”