Several years ago, I reminded our teenage sons that Lent would be starting in two days. Our youngest protested with a deep sigh and the following comment: “I just don’t get why my giving up ice cream or TV has anything to do with my getting closer to God. I mean did Jesus disapprove of these things?”

A friend recounted a time when she invited her two sons to participate in Lent by giving-up something that they needed. Her youngest, seven at the time, protested, paused—mind whirring—and then ventured in with, “OK. I’ll give up napkins.” And summarily tossed it over his shoulder.

I’m quite certain that’s not what the founding members of Christianity had in mind as they paused to reflect the deeper meaning of this season.

The earliest mention of Lent in the history of the Church comes from the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD. In addition to creating the Nicene Creed, they wrote 20 cannons, one of which spoke of Lent. Over the centuries, followers of Jesus have been invited to participate in this 40-day ritual which reflects Christ’s temptation of the same length in the desert.

Pope Gregory the Great (540-604) moved the start date from Sunday to Wednesday, so that the church would have exactly 40 days to prepare for Easter. (If you do the math, it’s actually 47 days because Sundays were initially feast days, not fast days.) And Gregory gets the credit for initiating the tradition of marking believers’ foreheads with ashes, which come from the burned palm leaves, leftover from last year’s Palm Sunday service.

Individuals wear ashes as a symbol to the world of their devotion to Christ. It was, and continues to be, the visible witness of an internal submission to God. When the priest or pastor makes the sign of the cross on believer’s forehead, he/she quotes Genesis 3:19, “Dust you are and to dust you shall return.” Rather than being a gloomy curse, it is meant to remind us that life is both fragile and fleeting. A reality we are all well aware of in this Covid season. The smudge also represents our fallen-ness and calls us to repentance.

Ash Wednesday then kicks off Lent. The word Lent is derived from Anglo-Saxon roots and actually means lengthen or long. Those who are more spiritual than me put a positive spin on this; Lent comes at a time when the hours or daytime are ‘lengthening’, as spring approaches, and so it is a time when we too can ‘lengthen’ spiritually, when we can stretch out and grow in the Spirit. Have we lost sight of this larger purpose? Is abstaining the point—or just the first step of this deeper journey?

In Landon Whitsitt’s Giving Up Chocolate and Beer Is Not What Jesus Had in Mind, he argues that rather than the frivolous and or ascetic response that many have to this seven-week stretch, we might consider using this time to develop our prayer, fasting, and giving muscles. Not as an end, but rather as a means to draw closer to the One who breathes life into our souls.

When we press in to pray for others, we are reminded both of the needs that others’ have and that God provides for all. When we choose to go hungry for 24 hours, we align ourselves with our brothers and sisters around the world who do not have the option of eating whenever they want. These first two disciplines hopefully motivate us to give so that others can pay their oil bills or buy groceries.

In the end, Lent reminds us of the choice that is always before us. We can cling tightly to what we have or we can open our palms and allow others to do what they will—even hammer nails through them.

We will indeed return to dust at the end of our days. Between now and then, may we all find the courage to stand, as Christ did, with open and outstretched hands. Blessings as you enter into this Lenten season.

Photo by Ahna Ziegler on Unsplash