On Ash Wednesday, Jesus warned his disciples about the hypocrisy of what might be dubbed “false Lenten fasts.” They’re all about appearances—the false veneer of religion—not rending our hearts and returning to the Lord, our God—the true hardwood of religion.
Each year, Lent is forty-day period of time—excluding Sundays—where the Church challenges us to recall Jesus’ teaching regarding the authentic practice of faith. The purpose of this season is to redirect and redouble our efforts to the important DYI refinishing project that will strengthen the power of love present in our hearts to resist and hopefully ward off those evil forces that would otherwise tempt us to appear to be “hardwood” Catholics when the simple fact is that our practice of the faith is that of “veneer” Catholics. This annual DYI refinishing project requires turning from sin by performing some basic “woodworking”—stripping off the veneer and sanding down the glue affixing the veneer and any other finishes to reveal the raw hardwood in its original glory as God intended in and from the beginning.
Let’s not forget that Lent isn’t just about this penitential season’s three “pillars”—prayer, fasting, and almsgiving—because each of those, if they’re just exterior practices that don’t change the heart, are nothing but veneer. Yes, those practices may make us feel and even look like Catholics, but they’re nothing more than that. To be authentic, as Jesus taught, those disciplinary practices must end in changing the heart to prioritize love of God and neighbor. “Asceticism,” it’s called, meaning “fasting” from what otherwise has distracted us over the past year from being authentic Catholics who love God and neighbor.
Unfortunately, all too many Catholics focus upon “fasting” for the season of Lent and when this practice ends on Holy Saturday, it’s spiritual effects oftentimes are nil, indicating all of that fasting did nothing other than polish and buff up the veneer. One reason explaining this all-too-frequent and recurring phenomenon is that those Catholics—who include you and me to some degree—focus only upon “fasting” and neglect the other side of the coin, “feasting.” Fasting deprives and, if that’s all Catholics do, they will grow weak and malnourished, spiritually speaking. Yes, they may end up looking like John the Baptist, but it’s all veneer because they haven’t nourished their hearts to love God and neighbor as John the Baptist did. Feasting supplements fasting by nourishing and strengthening the heart to grow in love of God and neighbor.
Today’s first reading offered for our consideration the example of a man who fasted and feasted.
Life in Mesopotamia circa 1,000 b.c.e was pretty darn good. Being a fertile agricultural area meant farmers (called “tillers of the soil”) were among some of society’s rich and famous. For them, life was very good! Tradition suggests that Noah was a viniculturalist, owning a successful vineyard that produced good, if not fine wines. He also apparently enjoyed imbibing of the fruit of the vine, sometimes in excess to the point of falling asleep in a drunken stupor which ended in some personally embarrassing, compromising, and immoral situations.
When it came to the “things of this world,” Noah apparently had nothing to worry about.
Yet—and importantly—tradition also suggests Noah was attentive to God’s presence in his life, having discerned God telling him that Mesopotamian society had become so prosperous and comfortable. Having lost sight of God—focused upon what we’d call “living the good life”—many of them were fat and happy. But, with the omens portending an extremely bad outcome, Noah began preparing for disaster by stripping his life of the veneer. Acting to construct his life upon the basics—the hardwood that would form the ark of the first covenant—tradition tells us that Noah’s neighbors mocked and jeered him, believing Noah was a fool.
Yet, in a twist of fate that is all so predictable when human beings forget about God, it was all of those people in antediluvian Mesopotamia who ended up being the fools! Building up their wealth in everything that provided folks of those days comfort and security, the veneer of Mesopotamian society sure looked good. Yet, the hardwood the veneer masked was rotting and in need of some tender, loving care. Thus, when the disaster Noah foresaw approaching finally unfolded, all but Noah and what he preserved—the “basics” including his family and what they needed to survive and eventually thrive as God’s people—disappeared from the face of the earth.
Of this covenant, St. Paul reminded us in today’s epistle:
This [covenant] prefigured baptism, which saves you now. It is not a removal of dirt from the body but an appeal to God for a clear conscience.
“Fasting” isn’t what develops a “clear conscience,” feasting does. Fasting assists in this regard by stripping away the veneer so we can expose the hardwood—the basics. Then, feasting upon those—like Noah did—we’re able to build our lives upon the foundation of solid hardwood, giving us a clear conscience. What are those basics? The story of Noah indicates it’s three: first, God—discerning God’s presence in one’s life; second, faith—following God’s lead rather than cultural and social icons; and third, marriage and family—expressing love of God and neighbor by placing their spiritual good first in the list of daily priorities...after God and faith. The place where we feast upon these basics is within the ark of the covenant—the first covenant of marriage and family, as God designed them in and from the beginning, not as society and culture design them.
For this reason, today’s Scripture challenges each of us to answer this question: Do you today have a clear conscience about your relationship with God, your faith, your marriage, and your family? If not, just like the people in antediluvian Mesopotamia, the while the veneer may look real nice, the hardwood’s rotting and it’s not going to be long before the veneer will loosen, crack, and look pretty awful if not disgusting...as will be evident to all when the veneer no longer masks over the rotting hardwood.
This first week of Lent, our DYI project requires fasting from what’s currently keeping us from feasting upon God and faith as well as marriage and family. One example comes immediately to mind: When it comes to your marriage and family, fast from the sadness about everything you don’t have and feast upon gratitude for having everything you need.
Nothing in this world is perfect—especially human beings—and to expect life to be perfect is to expect what’s impossible in this world. Fast from all of that imperfection and feast instead upon the good—affirm, enjoy, and celebrate all of that. Constructing each day upon this hardwood this first week of Lent, the outcome will be a clear conscience as we will live not on bread alone but every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.
This week, let gratitude for having everything we need remind us of that first covenant and motivate each of us to “Repent, and believe in the gospel.”
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