Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
Happy Lent.
There’s an ancient story about Lazarus. You know, the corpse Jesus brought back to life. Ugly affair in a way. He was already stinking. Rotting and so on. I once had a deep cut on my knee and it stunk. I still get grossed out about it to this day. Can’t ever look at that knee the same. Oh if I’d been dead and stinking I’d have be mortified. Could never be around anyone who was there to see me. It’s like being naked in public but worse. Being publicly dead. How embarrassing.
Anyway, it’s said he was never the same after revivification. Morose and melancholy. Distant. Makes sense. He either went to Hell or to Heaven (listen armchair theologians, don’t @ me. I know there’s a distinction about Heaven and The Bosom of Abraham and all that, just chill out okay) and coming back to earth after either experience would be pretty jarring. I mean, if you come back to earth from Hell, whew. Talk about PTSD. I mean, you’d never get over it. What would you even talk about at a dinner party?
“Hey, I went to Rio last summer it was fantastic! How about you?”
“I was literally in eternal torment. In the fires of everlasting judgement where the worm does not die.”
Kills the mood.
On the other hand if he’d been in Heaven he probably felt pretty gypped about being brought back. Maybe even resented Jesus for it a little bit. “Ugh. Now I have to die again!? WTH Jesus.”
Story says he never smiled again after. Says he didn’t talk much either. The resurrected Lazarus just got up and went about his daily work, quietly and seriously, like the most ascetic of monks. It’s said he only laughed once after coming back. Sitting on a porch, beneath the shade of an awning, he saw a man carrying a jar of soil.
“HA!” He erupted. “Dirt carrying dirt!”
When I first became Catholic I did the typical convert thing and went at it way too hard. That’s not bad, per se, in fact I think the vigor of fresh blood into a religion keeps things moving. For most of us it is unsustainable however. You have to chill out at some point. When I say I went hard, I mean hard. I went so hard into Catholicism that by the second year I had another coworker becoming Catholic with me. Sponsored him through RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) and everything. His first Lent before confirmation on Easter Sunday I talked him into attempting a black fast with me. As someone whose normal diet is roughly 40% dairy and 30% meat, a fast that only allows you one meal of bread and veggies a day, after dark, was just too ambitious a change. To be honest I don’t even really know how to cook vegetables. I don’t like them generally. And bread is really lacking without butter. Monks do the black fast regularly sure, but then again monks didn’t have to drive around all day going to work and dealing with customers. Customers who constantly offered you food. Nice ladies trying to hand you homemade cookies.
I didn’t last long.
When I failed my fast I felt horrible. I had let not only myself down, but also the new convert I was bringing into the fold. What a weak soldier for Christ was I! So I thought anyway. This was a silly reaction in hindsight. The only one who’d set the goal of observing the black fast was me and I was the only one distressed that it hadn’t happened. No one else cared but I really let it bum me out. So much so that instead of just sluffing off my failure and picking up and trying again, I gave up on the whole thing altogether. As a result I got almost nothing out of the Lenten season that year. Missed opportunity for growth.
Personally I think this is one of Satan’s go-to tricks. Very useful in almost every situation. Someone wants to do good? A man or a woman wants to improve? Very well chortles the old demons. We will whisper to them that there can be no “half measures”. We will tell him that there’s no point in trying to be “a little better” if he’s not going to be all better. We will saddle up to her ear and ask her what good it is to try and repent if, after all, she’s simply likely to fail again. Effective strategy. Fools a lot of us.
Making perfect is the enemy of the good. Old trick.
The truth is though that you’re not going to be perfect tomorrow. Nor am I. And furthermore it’s okay to just shoot for incremental improvements. In fact in most cases that’s the wisest move. Satan likes to up your expectations so high that they aren’t attainable. Then you’ll feel like a failure. Then you’ll quit. And you quitting is after all what he wanted all along. Sneaky move Satan. Turning our ambitions into reasons to give up. Whatever your problem is, don’t fall for the lie that being better is discounted just because you aren’t perfect. It’s not true. Just another old trick. Another lie.
Lent is a season of dying. Sure. Of death to the old man in us. Death of the old in hopes of the resurrection of the new. But, if you’re not ready yet, you don’t have to do all your dying today. Just die a little. Give up what you can, when you can. Be honest about your own ability and live up to it. Forgive yourself if you fall and don’t let that derail your entire Lenten season like I did. Try but don’t try too hard. Don’t beat yourself up. Keep going. For example, my kids are pitching a fit right now and I don’t have time to proof read this. So, it is what it is. At least I got something written and published. Even if it ain’t perfect.
Above all remember to have compassion for yourself. You are, after all, only made of dirt.
Love this,and I needed this reminder.