In These 40 Days

As a kid, I recall Christmas having a big buildup. My parents would be in rehearsal for a cantata starting in November. Mom and I would put up the Christmas tree as early as we could, carefully handling each ornament as Julie Andrews belted out "Joy to the World" on our favorite Christmas LP. As soon as December arrived, we would start singing Christmas hymns in church, I would open a window of my advent calendar each day, and my mom's hand-painted nativity scene would grace our hearth. By the time Christmas morning arrived, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch. After opening presents, we would head to church for a three hour service that would include the nativity play and song after beautiful Christmas song.

We were really excited that baby Jesus had been born.

Easter, on the other hand, wasn't much of a celebration. My mom would make me a new dress, which I always loved, and I looked forward to seeing what the Easter bunny would bring me. On Easter morning, after excitedly looking at my basket of goodies, I would put on my new dress and we would go to church. There was often a baptism Easter morning, but there was often one anyway. I suppose there were Easter songs, but I didn't know which ones they were.

Clearly, we weren't that excited about the resurrection.

This bothered me. Most Christians would agree that Christianity is a religion founded on the belief that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, gave His own life on Good Friday as a sacrifice for the sins of mankind and then rose from the dead on Easter Sunday so that we too might have new life in God. If that's what we are putting at the heart of our belief, shouldn't it be our biggest - our most joyous - celebration of the year? Shouldn't we be getting ready beforehand by doing more than just getting new clothes?  In a search for something more, I asked my parents if we could start celebrating the Passover. They were happy for us to do so and even invited friends sometimes. It stretched Easter to a weekend. But it still felt like Easter was Christmas' sad, neglected little step sibling.

Then came Lent.

I joined the Methodist church as an adult. Like other Liturgical faiths, Methodists practice Lent. Starting with Ash Wednesday, Lent is a time of preparation lasting the 40 days until Easter (not including Sunday because Sunday is always a celebration). It is traditional to chose something from which to fast during those 40 days - preferably something that shouldn't be part of your life anyway and can stay gone once those 40 days are over (for example: gossip or lying). Some people also chose Lent as a time for addition or replacement; for example I might choose to stop listening to music on my way to work and instead spend that time praying for my family (or I might get up earlier and read my Bible). Lent also includes, for many churches, special services and studies. All of this leads to the deeply meaningful services of Holy Week, culminating in - YAY - Easter morning!

I finally found what I was looking for! This is the "big deal" Kid Malinda wanted so badly to experience. This is what puts focus on, and builds anticipation for, the most important day of the Christian calendar. This is my favorite, most cherished, time of the year. And if you've been looking for something to make Easter more meaningful for your family, if you want to "prepare the way for the Lord," if you believe that Easter marks the most important day of our faith, then you are always welcome to join in.

For more on this season, here is an excellent message from Jeff Cavins:

Whose Ashes Are They?

When I was in college (and still an unhappy but deeply committed evangelical), one of my favorite professors was such a devoted Catholic that she attended early morning mass each day before school. On Ash Wednesday, she would teach her classes with a dark cross smudged across her forehead. I was impressed by her commitment, although I only vaguely understood Ash Wednesday to be some kind of crazy, mystical papist mumbo jumbo.

In the almost two decades since, I found spiritual contentment in a liturgical faith and have worn that smudgy cross many times myself. This year, however, was the first time I have followed in my professor's footsteps and shown up to work with a cross already on my forehead.

I fielded many strange looks and interesting questions today, but one conversation with a group of sixth graders won the prize for Strangest of the Strange. It went something like this:

Student A: "What is on your head?"
Me: "Ashes."
Student A: "Is it a tattoo?"
Me: "No. It's ashes."
Student A: "Why?"
Me: "It's Ash Wednesday."
Student A: "So...whose ashes are they?"
Me: "They aren't a person's ashes! They are ashes from palm fronds."
Student B: "So...what's it for?"
Me: "It's a religious holiday."
Student B: " So, are they Jesus' ashes?"
Me: "No! They are not human ashes. They are from a plant!"
Student C: "Are you sure? My grandpa was cremated. Are you sure they aren't..."
Me: "Oh my goodness! No! I do not have your grandpa's ashes on my forehead."

As much as this conversation Cracks. Me. Up. it also reminds me that I once knew as much about Ash Wednesday as those kids (okay, maybe I at least knew the ashes weren't human!) and there are still many Christian denominations who have practices about which I know very little.

The season of Lent, starting with Ash Wednesday, has become very precious to me. It is deeply healing and reflective. It embodies what I think Christianity is about - the continual journal to be more like the God of love who created us. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way because even many people who are not part of a liturgical tradition are starting to practice Ash Wednesday - and Lent - either on their own or with a body of believers.

If you are interested in what Lent is and how to commit to this season, here is an excellent video from Ascension.