"My dog's bigger than your dog..."

I suppose today I'll win an award for the silliest content and loosest associations in all of the many posts on this blog. This stems from my having had an unexpected thought, the sort that makes me keep my mouth shut (yes, on rare occasions I'm capable of this) at the moment, though I'll both shake my head and laugh later. I've noticed, both at church and in Internet discussions, that the annual "Lenten contest" is beginning.

I cannot remember much about this songwriter, but, if my memory serves, some years ago Tom Paxton wrote some songs aimed at his children. They would win no awards for either their melodies or lyrics, but one of them suddenly, vividly leapt into my mind. "My dog's bigger than your dog" actually captured well how children in the school-yard sound when they are trying to top one another. Alternating verses were, for example, "My dog's bigger than your dog..." then, "My dog's better than your dog - his name is King and he had puppies." It proceeded to such gems as "our car's older than your car," "my dad's louder than yours," "my mum's funnier than yours."

As my regulars well know, I'm not about to claim any particular fondness for working with children (...understatement of the century), but such traded bragging amongst kids I can tolerate (albeit from afar.) What drives me mad is when adults cannot get out of that groove. I could give many an example but, with Shrove Tuesday ahead tomorrow, I think the Lenten Contest will be best.

I've never been able to determine the origin of 'giving things up for Lent' - certainly, no one in Italy ever heard of this, and I think it's an Anglo Saxon and Celtic product. I have many a memory of kids trying to top one another with what they'd sacrifice - I suppose it was a nice enough break from "where's your old man work?" or discussion of whose parents are stricter. (Kids had no desire for strict parents, except when it was in competition.) In much the same fashion, again from a distance, I can deal with the utter lack of empathy and dignity our dear little brats have when they turn on their best friends - the silly and prurient comments of boys of twelve who suddenly see a 'double meaning' in every comment - the jokes that have a group of 9 year olds howling though most of us mortals would be at a loss to see what is funny - even the 'toilet humour' of infants who suddenly find anything remotely connected with the subject to be hilarious.

Yet I must bite my tongue, when the "I'm giving this up for Lent," "oh, I'm not only giving that up but keeping track of the money I save so I can give it to the poor," "maybe it's better if we add on more service," "I think I'd better do the vegan fast - that Western fast is too luxurious, and I only eat meat once a week anyway and I'm still fat," begins yet again. This may seem odd coming from someone who has an extensive and sometimes painful track record for pursuing ascetic theology (and preaching same, though I suppose most people I know would have loved to beg me to stop), giving to the poor (...and often being a member of that set), attending multiple services of common worship weekly or even daily, and usually falling asleep snuggled up to the Prayer Book. But I often wonder if Jesus urged those around him to give alms in secret not because they needed to smugly know (and 'subtly' announce) that they do things only for the glory of God (who, I am sure, is immensely grateful that we take the trouble to contribute to His glory...), but because he was so damned sick of hearing those who didn't.

On a serious note, I shall add that it is really sad when ascetic practises are seen as punishments for oneself. Yes, I believe in penance - in two senses. One is penance as getting our lives back in line with the gospels (surely a task enough for a lifetime.) In the other sense, I see it (and this in a positive sense - by 'consequence' I mean outcome, not necessarily negative!) as admitting that our actions have consequences. We regret or are pleased with some of our actions based on natural consequences, but I think we can forget (especially when neither worldly loss nor gain is forthcoming) that there are spiritual consequences for our actions.

With Lent being a time when we prepare to celebrate the paschal mystery, I'm sure I can be permitted yet one more loose association. Just recently, I began studying some of the works of Jewish scholar Jon Levenson (see links below.) Though naturally his treatment of resurrection would not be related to Jesus, his words are worth a look for Christians indeed. To cite only one point for now, Levenson treats of how, in many passages from Torah, death is not avoided but overcome. God graciously rescues worshippers from death, leading them to a renewed, or new, intimacy with Himself.

That is what is key in our penance - being open to that marvellous intimacy, and seeking to let go of the obstacles we place in its path.

Just as the Lenten contest is annual :), so is my recommendation of the books, to which I have linked below, by Margaret Funk. (They are brief, but be sure to read through them at a slow and prayerful pace.) They are the best introductions to genuine ascetic practise I have seen (and I've read through a library's worth of excellent works on the topic.) Those who are looking for an endurance test will be disappointed, and probably see the wisdom expressed (which draws on many traditions, but is particularly focused on John Cassian) as 'too luxurious.' (I'll spare anyone amplification on the 'austerity contest,' but haven't we all seen it now and then?)

Party well tomorrow, my friends. I want to see a picture where everyone smiles and says "Cana!" - Jesus knew how to feast as well as fast, and only those who can do both get a thing out of the latter. :-)