It rings provocatively and strikes a deep chord, like one of the greatest punk rock titles of all time, or perhaps a dirty old blues standard cranked out in the 20s and revitalized by Eric Clapton, but it is an abashed and reluctantly admitted truth among us Catholics. The best thing about Lent is its blessed End.
Easter is our most important holiday for many reasons. We say that we await it for the spiritual reawakening, and we do, but let us be honest about religious feeling. It takes the emotional form of Togetherness and Gluttony; the Mass is but a kernel of the great family get together consisting of heaping portions of chiefly pork and potato based cuisine. We drink, we schmooze, we argue with family members blessedly not seen for several months. It is much like a Polish wedding, without the fights.
It is a fundamental truth of the human psyche that religious feeling is caught up with excess. And it is a testament to the genius of the church fathers that excess preceeded by abstinence is more keenly felt. We appreciate all the more the first beer of Easter after a hellish 40 days in a parched desert. Thank you God, we say as the cool hoppy goodness pours down the gullet.
Each of us entertains our own personal Hells. My most challenging Lenten fast involved abstinence from caffeine. It was a vast wasteland where life lost most of its Joy. My most recent Lent was no desert picnic either. Giving up both sarcasm and muttering blasphemies to myself, two of my most cherished habits, was more than difficult. I admit that I mostly failed. But I learned a lot about myself. One, I enjoy talking to myself far more than most people, except for my dog, my four-year-old daughter--both of whom see the world very much as I do--and my wife, who reminds me that the way to salvation is not how much you buy but where. Two, I learned that I am full of vitriol for my fellow man and enjoy it immensely.
Still there is this matter of Lent and its true meaning, which we conveniently ignore. Perhaps it is good to put aside some of our comforts and crutches for a while. Fail as I would with my abstinence, I did take time every day to contemplate God's Hand in our temporal existence. I am not ashamed to say I made a leap of faith, and let my mind focus on Trust in God. This is a hard thing. I prayed very hard about things that are going badly in the world and in my life and that, frankly, scared me cold. And I came out with this: God wants the best for you, but God will let you fail. God will let you make your most stupid decisions and suffer the consequences, and that is where real pain comes from. I firmly believe, as Swedenborg maintains, that because God is the source of love and creation, suffering does not come from God, but we cause evil and suffering ourselves, and create our own customized, form-fitted Hell of our very own. And in a perverse way, we cherish that sweet Hell, for it is as unique to each of us as our own fingerprints, and as much an emanation of our character as our children.
Hell is a rich and fascinating subject worthy of its own article, or novel, or epic poem. For here and now, let us celebrate, for we have contemplated God's intimate care and sacrifice for us, and now we can dig in.
