Six Weeks to Change Our Reality
Bishop Paul V. Marshall
March 2001
Like many college students, I tended not to do laundry until the
pile of clothes in my room developed vital signs of its own or I
needed something to wear on a date. I remember being in a rush to
get some things clean for an evening out, only to have my heart sink
by the sight of three little words on our dorm's laundry room: Out
of Order. So polite, so devastating.
Disorder: it's an interesting concept for brokenness, parts not
being ordered, not working together in the right way. It has something
to tell us during Lent, and explains the one Lenten practice that
confuses people more than any other.
The "disorder" of which Lent speaks is the somewhat forbidding expression, "disordered
affections." Those words simply mean that love can get out of hand.
Those of us who fight a lifetime battle with weight know there are
days when we love carbohydrates more than exercise, the comfort of
food more than the prospect of long and healthy life.
There are people who disproportionately desire ambition, comfort,
possessions, or prestige.
Sometimes this is cute; puppy love, or parking one's first car across
two spaces at the farthest point in the parking lot doesn't last
forever.
Lent is the time to ask bigger questions: are there things we love
too much?
The most misunderstood idea about Lent is that of giving things
up. While many meanings have been attached to the practice, the root
idea is freedom, choosing to put things back in order. I am a slave
to whatever I cannot do without. If life is unthinkable without television,
shopping, or chocolate, I am not free.
Up to this point most people might agree. If we go one step beyond
this, however, and ask what are the non-physical things that we are
slaves to, hackles rise.
Can we get through a day without complaining about other people?
It's awfully comforting to emphasize the shortcomings of others;
it can even make one feel superior.
Can we get through the day without having to have power over others
- letting our loved ones be themselves? People who are embarrassed
by their parents have not yet become their own person.
Psychological or spiritual disorder of the affections puts our feeling
good, valuable, or powerful above the welfare, dignity, or freedom
of others. We destroy community. This can't be fixed by giving up
a candy bar.
But whether we adjust our eating habits or adjust what we allow
ourselves to say about other things or people, by breaking free of
disordered affections, our reality changes.
The idea that God is with us as we break free and pass from one
mode of being to another is as old as the Exodus, and gives us courage
to take the first step to freedom.
Biting the tongue as soon as you feel the urge to complain about
the turkeys who plague your life may turn out to be a moment of liberation:
they aren't running your life.
Have you ever had an idea mistaken for a joke? I have twice suggested
to church groups recently that the ideal thing to give up in Lent
is complaining. The prolonged laughter that followed my suggestion
would have done a comic proud. Perhaps I need to work on my timing.
"But seriously, folks," what would life be like if we simply determined
not to complain, if we worked with what is, emphasizing the positive
and the potential? It's only six weeks.
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