Being Jewish for twelve years taught me nothing, if not discipline: the discipline to separate meat from milk, meat utensils from dairy utensils, and purchasing (and eating) only kosher food and household items (including plastic wrap and dish soap); the discipline to keep an even higher level of kashrut during the eight days of Passover, including scouring my home, every square inch in preparation and eating no wheat or leaven; the discipline of lighting the Sabbath candles every Friday night and abstaining from doing almost anything for 25 hours; the discipline of fasting on Yom Kippur, and much more.
Lately I've been wondering about how much discipline I have. Being on a somewhat free-lance schedule, working mostly from home, is not conducive to a living a disciplined life, I find. How many days do I have every intention of accomplishing X, Y, and Z, and by 2pm realize I haven't even started on X? How many nights do I not even bother to eat dinner until 9:30 pm? Or sometimes, simply call a couple of beers and a bag of chips dinner? How many times during the course of the day do I need to check my (evil, time-wasting-worse-than-cigarette-addiction) Facebook page for some vital message?
I will say, though, I have been very disciplined in getting myself to daily Mass, missing few mornings since June. Even mornings when I really don't want to go out (most), I make myself, and am always glad when I have gotten myself up and out the door; glad to be hearing holy and edifying words and receiving Communion, glad to be outside of my own space, glad to be seeing friends. Having someplace to go every morning is not a bad thing - almost like having a real job, I guess (but better, because then I get to come home and get involved with my own projects).
So, coming into Lent for the first time in twelve years, I now bring with me my Jewish background of discipline and structure and order, and I must say - I welcome it. Someone posted onto Facebook yesterday, "I've decided that for Lent this year I'm going to do something positive for the world instead of giving something up. I don't think that giving up chocolates or red meat will make me a better person." A statement that was applauded by her peers (30-somethings), and to my mind is indicative of where we are in our culture; a culture that says, "I'm going to do things my way. 2,000 years of tradition is outdated and stupid; I've got a better idea." I think that doing something positive for the world is a great idea, but is only half of the equation. Giving something up - trite as it may seem - is a physical, muscle-memory-building act that builds character as well as unites us to the Sacrifice on the cross, which is what this season is all about.
I have given up beer - wish me luck, as there are few things I love at the end of the day than a beer or two - giving up beer for the eight days of Passover was a walk in the park compared to these six weeks. I am also throwing in speaking disparagingly of people and swearing, for extra measure.
The good news is, I don't have to do it alone - all of this will be possible with God's help (I even found the discipline to write in this journal for the second day in a row even though I have 100 things pressing in on me).
Dear God, I pray for the strength to be disciplined for these next 39 days - and beyond.
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