fast track

A friend of mine has a great behavioral barometer: "Want to know why you're doing something? Stop doing it."

Besides being a test of willpower, the Christian season of Lent can be a testy time, as observant folks run loose without the usual fixes that keep society too hyped up on (fill in the blank...coffee, chocolate, booze, TV) to realize we're riddled with anxiety. I wonder if anyone's done a study on increased accident rates during the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Moses fasted for forty days and forty nights, twice; the second time he returned to find the Israelites partying and busted the holy tablets in anger...I can relate after a few weeks without sugar.

The Biblical lesson more commonly referenced among contemporary Christians is the 40 days that Jesus spent in the wilderness before beginning his ministry, a time of being tested by Satan and shoring up his relationship with God--a journey which culminates in Good Friday's crucifixion (kind of makes you want to read the fine print on the release form before repeating that outing) and the resurrection of Easter. So the period of Lent is one marked by abstinence, solemnity, and introspection. Many religious traditions embrace some form of fasting and penitence as a means of drawing closer to God by withdrawing from our human attachments --from the great fast of Ramadan to the penitence of Yom Kippur.

Exploring my ecumenical ways, it's been a while since I've observed a traditional Lent, but always found it a provocative time. One year I gave up using the words "I'm sorry" just to see what would show up in its place. Chocolate, meat, wine, or TV--the tweaks of cravings or temptation of habits invited me to wake up from the sleepy patterns of my daily routine. And, once awake, to lean into the gap that was left when I left my familiar crutches behind. It takes a while to cultivate a taste for sitting in uncomfortable emptiness without shoving a brownie in it. The Buddhists are really on to something here.

Yesterday I sat in St. Lawrence's Basilica with devout Catholic friends visiting from Charlotte. I opened to what I would be willing to leave behind this Lent, what fast would shake things up and make more space for God. The prayer alone felt like a step into the wilderness.

There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness. We are lutes, no more, no less.

If the soundboxes stuffed full of anything, no music. If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.

The fog clears, and new energy makes you run up the steps in front of you. Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.

Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits where your spirit should, an ugly metal statue in place of the Kaaba.

When you fast, good habits gather like friends who want to help.

Fasting is Solomon's ring.

Don't give into some illusion and lose your power,

but even if you have, if you've lost all will and control,

they come back when you fast,

like soldiers appearing out of the ground, pennants flying above them. A table descends to your tents, Jesus' table.

Expect to see it, when you fast, this table spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.

~ Rumi ~Ghazal No. 1739 from the Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi