Time for a Road Trip

Note: I live in Virginia, right outside of Washington DC

Last Christmas I returned to my hometown, Austin, Texas. Instead of flying, my wife and I road tripped with my best friend from high school (a youth minister in Harrisonburg) and his wife. Six months into our marriages and new ministry positions, there was much to discuss: the transition to life in Virginia; our different but beautiful communities; and life with a spouse. Beyond the conversations, we shared many “meals” that usually consisted of food purchased at a small-town edition of a fast-food restaurant. But we both brought food along for the journey to share with each other. I had Star Wars gingerbread cookies and he had the most delicious homemade peanut brittle. With friendships refreshed, the end of our trip found us physically tired and hungry for substantial food, which Mom happily provided with homemade lasagna and fresh bread.

During Lent, we all take a different sort of road trip. Though our life situations are vastly different, the destination is the same: Easter. All the extra “stuff” we do during Lent (both communally and individually) is meant to prepare us for that glorious moment when the bells are rung, the Gloria is sung, and we celebrate the Resurrection!

But what about that road trip? How will we spend our time in the car? Thankfully, the Church has been on quite a few of these road trips and has some suggestions to help change us into people ready to celebrate Easter. She recommends three practices during Lent: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

In prayer, our search for God finds a tongue and ears. On my Texas road trip, we four shared in many different conversations, listening and speaking to each other. We talked about everything under the sun, asked each other for gum, and said “I’m sorry” for wrong turns and incorrect fast food orders. Our Lenten prayer takes a similar shape: speaking to God about anything and everything; listening to God in silence and with Scripture; asking God for guidance and help; and saying sorry. When we relate to God in this way, our friendship is refreshed and we (s l o w l y) become better guests for the Easter feast that God is throwing.

Fasting forces us out of our M.O., our normal way of doing things. During the day long drive, we fasted from comforts normally sought when sleeping, namely a stable, vertical bed with a variety of coverings and a familiar pillow. We spoke the words “I’m going to sleep well tonight!” seconds after the motor stopped humming. During Lent, when we deny ourselves cheeseburgers, Netflix, and/or judging, we become more aware of the physicality of our body, the depth of our mind, and our quick emotional reactions. By denying ourselves the comforts of life, we relearn to enjoy them all the more and our “thanks be to God” becomes more sincere. Fasting during Lent is as much about giving up good things as it is about conversion from bad habits. When we fast from judging AND from listening to music in the car, we enter into better relationship with other Easter party guests and will enjoy the music so much more.

Sharing is difficult, but so much more so when you only have a finite amount of resources. And homemade peanut brittle proved to be very finite on the long trip. Yet, my friends kept giving, not from their excess but from their very limited supply. Lenten almsgiving should affect those closest to us in addition to those most in need, the poor places in our friends’ lives and the material poor in the world. Giving tangible gifts to the poor is a great way to give alms, but what if instead of giving our ugliest, never-worn sweater we gave our favorite pair of jeans? Or if we sat down as a family and decided not to eat out after mass on Sundays and instead gave that exact amount to the poor each week? These gifts affect us more because there is a cost. Giving to the poor then becomes giving ourselves—our time, our post-mass meal, our favorite article of clothing, our skills—and the gift, in a certain way, becomes more genuine. When we give these gifts of self to the poor and to God, we prepare ourselves to receive the ultimate authentic gift of self at the Easter banquet, the Eucharist.

Lent gives us the wonderful opportunity to reorient ourselves to God by committing to practices meant to make us more fully alive, giving new life to parts of life in need of a change. Our three practices are not ends in themselves, but a means to participate in the workings of the Spirit and in the Body of Christ as a whole during this season. We do not practice them to win the favor of God, but to become more aware of the love that God has for us by preparing the way.

May our road trip together be fruitful and our practices help us love God, each other, and ourselves. Happy traveling!