When this weird overlap of sacred and secular observances happened in 2018, it was the first time in 73 years. But we get a do-over now, and another in 2029, so I guess we should pay attention.
Here, then, is a lightly edited version of my previous post on the topic . . .
I’m not sure how many people are dismayed by the collision of Catholic and Hallmark holidays. Probably not as many as the Internet would have us believe. But those who would persuade us that this is a conflict are misunderstanding both days, selling us—literally—on an artificial, commercial understanding of love.
Every February, we’re told that we should “say it with flowers,” and the price of roses shoots up. Grocery stores’ seasonal aisles fill—on the day after Christmas—with giant heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. Jewelry stores run commercials featuring gifts in the the “now I know you love me” price range.
But real love – romantic or otherwise – has never been about that stuff. Real love is much more akin to the three disciplines of Lent—prayer, fasting, and almsgiving:
Flowers v. Prayer
Whatever the “it” is that needs to be said, I’d rather have the words. Sincere words / meaningful conversation / shared vulnerability—things that don’t wither up and die by next Wednesday. It’s what we need in our personal relationships, romantic or otherwise, and it’s what we need in our relationship with God. Showing up. Saying what we feel. Listening for the response. Being vulnerable before the One we love. That’s a pretty good description of prayer, and an open invitation to spend a little extra time with God this season.
Candy v. Fasting
I do not understand why chocolate is invested with so much power: THE symbol of Valentine’s Day and THE thing to give up for Lent. Real love is always more about sacrifice than consumption. And by sacrifice I don’t mean “Oh no, I can’t eat that; it’s Lent!” I mean that we give up stuff for each other all the time. Parents give up sleep for their infants; teachers give up weekends to grade their students’ papers; housemates give up couch time to do the dishes; college students give up whatever when a friend needs a ride or a shoulder or a study partner. That’s the spirit in which we can frame our Lenten sacrifices, too . . . not setting up some sort of Olympic deprivation hurdle for ourselves, but simply asking what we can let go of in order to create more space in our hearts / minds / lives / schedules. This, then, frees us to be more responsive to the needs of those we love and those God loves—which is everyone.
Jewelry v. Almsgiving
TV commercials would have us believe that love is best expressed with a jaw-dropping price tag. We know that’s not true. But real love is generous. Love is open-eyed and openhearted. Love sees the need—the need of the person right in front of us, and the needs of people we will never meet. And love responds—sometimes with money, other times with attention or service or time. Lent invites us to that kind of generosity, and calls it almsgiving.
So as we move into the season of Lent, go ahead and let this divine alignment of Valentine’s Ash Wednesday set the tone.
- Carve out quality time with the God you love.
- Give up something that gets in the way of your freedom to love.
- And let that love overflow with generosity.
Blessings as you go . . .
Christine
Christine Marie Eberle 