Sacrifice for the Right Reasons

At the beginning of the Palm Sunday Mass in a few weeks’ time, we will hear these words: “Brothers and sisters, since the beginning of Lent until now we have prepared our hearts by penance and charitable works.”

Each year, these words catch me by surprise and make me feel embarrassed that I have not been as diligent in my Lenten observances as I had intended to be — and now the time is past! But when you are reading this, we might be not even halfway through Lent. So this is a chance to give a gentle reminder (to you and to me) about what those Lenten observances are about.

A few years ago when I was in England, we did some research on the religious practices of young people who were at least nominally Catholic. Whereas fewer than 5% went to Church even once a month, over 30% said that they gave something up for Lent. The practice had remained an important part of how these young people defined themselves as Catholic.

I am sure that Southern Cross readers are even better informed than the average English Catholic teenager. And so you instinctively know that fasting (“giving things up”) is only one of the three practices that we are encouraged to pursue in these 40 days: alongside fasting we also have almsgiving and prayer.

Of course, much like the Trinity, these are not three different things but rather three aspects of the same thing: the challenge to “prepare our hearts” by deepening our relationship with God. It is, I hope, clear how prayer does that. In fact, Lent can be a great time to turn back to, take on or try out different forms of prayer. Our relationship with God — as with our relationships with anyone we love — benefits from new forms of expression.

Almsgiving deepens our understanding that all we have comes from God and that we are obliged to share with those who have less. The Early Church Father St Ambrose put it beautifully: “You are not making a gift of what is yours to the poor man; you are simply giving him back what is already his.”

In a country with the largest index of inequality in the world — and with massive inequalities between parishes in the same diocese — that is something of which we need to be reminded constantly. Fasting is an attempt to feel what it is like to go without: if we give up chocolate, we are a small step closer to those who never eat chocolate because they cannot afford to.

Fasting and charity

For some people, the almsgiving and fasting are linked: I could give up wine and place the money aside that I would have spent and give that to the poor. The UK Catholic charity Cafod actually started from just such an initiative over 60 years ago — encouraging Catholic families to forego a meal on “Family Fast Day” and specifically donate that money to those who are hungry. This is a tradition that could certainly be encouraged in South Africa where 27% of children are malnourished while other families happily throw away food.

But though the actions are important, in Catholic theology the intention is much more significant. I was intrigued to discover that this is not the case, for example, in Muslim theology. For the second year running, Ramadan and Lent coincide, and we at the Denis Hurley Centre in Durban have been exploring some of the parallels.

Their model of fasting is much more severe than ours — nothing at all to pass the lips from sunrise to sunset. But once you have done this there is nothing to stop you feasting to your stomach’s content once the sun has set. I am told that some Muslims actually put on weight during Ramadan!

I think most Catholics would instinctively feel that giving up chocolate  — but instead eating more sweets; or giving up wine but substituting it with beer, is a bit of a cheat. I wonder how my late brother is getting on explaining to St Peter that he was still observing meat-less Fridays in Lent even as he tucked into his lobster and prawns!

So we are not “preparing our hearts” if our actions observe the letter of the devotional practice but not the spirit. We are hardly feeling the deprivation of those who are poor if we are making up for it in other ways. And the deprivation should be felt. I get frustrated by people giving away what they do not want  — usually old clothes they would not wear anyway  — and feeling that this is a virtuous act. Usually, it is simply a way of justifying buying yet more new clothes.

When I was a Jesuit novice, I spent 30 days walking across Europe and begging for food and accommodation. One of the most moving moments happened at a Trappist monastery which had taken me in for the night.

They lived an incredibly simple life where they ate only what they could grow for themselves. But when I was leaving the next morning, the guest master gave me a bag with bottled water and crisps and bananas for my journey. He was not giving me what they did not want; he was giving me what they did not even allow themselves to enjoy — and had gone to the trouble to go out and buy these for me!

We always need to look deep at what our motivation is. Are we giving up cake to feel the pangs of hunger — or because it will help us lose a few inches around the waist? The second might be a nice side effect but it should not be the reason that keeps us going.

Giving to a beggar

When people ask me whether they should give money to beggars on the street, I ask them to think about why they want to give: is it because they genuinely believe it will help the person, or because it will make them feel better themselves?  Is it to take away the pang of guilt, or to enjoy a humble thank you, or just to move the person on so they don’t have to look at him.

Lately, a homeless man has been going around Durban claiming he is collecting on behalf of the Denis Hurley Centre. He clearly is not — as any sensible person would soon be able to conclude if they looked at him, thought about it for a while, or just called us up to ask. But he gets regular donations. Why? Because it makes people feel good about themselves and it is easier for them than bothering to contact us and give us the money.

Penance should not be easy. Sacrifice should not be painless. Fasting should be felt. Preparing our hearts so we can accompany Christ on the road to Calvary is something that will make demands on us. Jesus emptied himself to become human. Are we prepared — even for the few weeks of Lent — to empty ourselves in some way to feel closer to the majority of our fellow human beings?