The Challenge of Lent – this Lent – for Catholic Families
by Michael Lacovara
Lent offers a number of calls to personal action, notably prayer, almsgiving and sacrifice. Here, I offer some brief reflections on each, ending with the perhaps the most central Lenten imperative, prayer. I share these thoughts as a Catholic father, trying to do his best in raising children in an age in which both quiet reflection and any act of self-denial are devalued, even criticized. My wife, Jennifer, and I often feel that the messages and values we are trying to teach and live for our children are not celebrated or reinforced by the larger society, or often even by our local community.

One other preliminary thought. Part of the challenge in raising Christian children is that so much of faith is profoundly abstract, but children crave tangibility. The capacity for understanding abstraction changes as our children mature, so the way we, as parents, teach and experience Lent as a family must also mature – our shared experiences should  deepen and evolve as our children grow and their capacity to shape their Christian faith develops.

Sacrifice
Any colloquial discussion of Lent begins with the question “what are you giving up for Lent?” I still vividly recall being in first grade, when half of my class (myself included) thought we had gamed the system as we told our dour Dominican principal that we were “giving up vegetables for Jesus.” Sister was not amused.

But, I must say that this Lent, as Father Platt observed at Mass on Ash Wednesday, feels like the one Lent when we shouldn’t have to “give up” anything. There has been so much sacrifice – so much “giving up” – over this pandemic year already; our lives have become more compact and more limited, and we have gone without something more pleasurable than vegetables already.   

So what to do this year – and how best to do it as a family? My thoughts are influenced by Father Jim Martin, the Jesuit author and YouTuber (he’s worth a watch if you haven’t seen him). Father Jim tells the story that, ever since he was in college, he has never himself decided what he will give up for Lent. Rather, he lets his friends tell him. There is theological significance to that choice – we “give things up,” or commit to some act of self-improvement, not because it’s hard or because Christ wants us to be unhappy or feel want. Instead, what we give up, or commit to do, should remove impediments to our relationship with Christ and our ability to live the life He wants in communion with Him.

Returning to family and a view that we, as parents, need to make doctrine tangible, here is a suggestion.  Rather than each of us deciding for ourselves Lent (whether it’s an act of self-denial or commitment to some positive change), ask your children to pick something for you.  The candor of children is remarkable, and they will tell you what they think! I suspect (and know myself) that the last year has changed each of us – the proximity of quarantine (or whatever we’re calling this now) has made us all a bit less patient or loving, or has just made us seek distractions (screens!) that put barriers between us and those we love.  And those barriers are barriers to communion with Christ too. 

So, listen to your children, and then share with them something that each can do or improve upon in turn.

Almsgiving
There is something very “disconnecting” about the way we have lived this last year, and I believe there can also be something very “unconnected” about charity. A check in the mail, cash placed in the collection basket, a “click” to an online solicitation from a worthy organization: to our kids, each is a moment, and perhaps a teachable one, but does it connect them to the purpose of almsgiving and its role in our faith?

A purpose of charity (almsgiving) is to raise up the needy, but an equally important purpose is to honor those who receive charity by affirming their dignity and worth. And, for children, a central aspect of almsgiving (during Lent and generally) should be to reinforce one of the essential messages of our faith: we are not here for ourselves; we are here for others, and we are called to live – and to act – on the understanding that Christ is in every person. 

And I know most of us have been touched by loss over the last year. We have spent hours watching (screens again!) the ravages of illness and violence. Consider this, as a way to link the images we have seen and the difficult experiences we have had to our families’ Lenten almsgiving: as a family, reflect and choose a cause with a defined personal connection. Perhaps some specialized medical research organization, a service organization that has helped someone you know, or even a school or other institution that has adapted to the pandemic to continue its mission.  And then resolve, again as a family, that, when again possible to do so, you will add action and involvement to giving. One of the messages reinforced in the scripture on the Sundays up to and including Lent is that Christ was not a passive teacher – he fed, he healed, he walked, he touched. Our acts of almsgiving should be equally engaged.

Prayer
I saved the hard one for last. Prayer!  Prayer is the ultimate abstract enterprise, and its nature and purpose can be hard to explain to children. Rote recitation of prayers can easily be taught – and there is a place for reinforcing the value of ritual as we help our children develop their faith. But I think our families need more accessible images to explain what prayer is and how it connects us to Christ, and to each other as a faith-led family. 

In that regard, I am reminded of a question that always stumps kids. I have as a dad been asked “how can Jesus hear what I am saying and speak to me, when there are so many people praying to him at the same time?” I know there is an answer that has to do with the Infinite Presence and the omniscience and omnipotence of our God, and that there is extensive discussion of how prayer “works” in the Catechism and centuries of Catholic scholarship.

But I think my kids might get more from my telling them that praying to Jesus is like riding the Peloton exercise bike.  

I assume most have at least seen Peloton’s ads. The concept is simple: one rides an exercise bike in front of a large screen (everything in pandemic-world involves a screen!). And on that screen is an instructor, who seems to be talking directly and just to you. And she keeps shouting at you to speak back. It’s all a little odd – but it’s strangely personal and engaging.  

And here’s the interesting bit: there are thousands of people riding at the same time, all watching the same instructor, who is speaking to all of them, even as she speaks “just” to you. I think that’s what all of us praying to Christ, and listening to him together, is like. 

To press the analogy just a little bit further to close – the experience on that bike also harkens to a core theme of Lenten prayer. The journey we are asked to take can be hard and – especially this year – its’ tiring.  But, there is a Person (an actual presence) who cares about each one of us and wants (metaphorically) to “ride” with us on that journey.  We just have to engage and start pedaling, and take our kids along. 

And there is something enriching about making that journey as part of a group (a family), who all recognize that the ride can be hard, but that we lift each other up and grow closer together when we do it together.