We are now a week into Lent and many thoughts have been swirling in my mind. For the past several years, my feelings about Lent have been rather ambivalent. That feeling of ambivalence has likely been due to a need to detox from my overly religious past.

For years I attacked Lent like it was my enemy, something that I must defeat. I searched for my deepest character flaws, gave up those things which brought me the most pleasure, and added on extra despicable chores. It was all about mortification. I remember meeting with friends to discuss how we could make this Lent better than all the previous Lents. Ideas ranged from eating only the scraps from your childrens' plates to giving up sex, praying a 15 decade rosary on your knees (that would be 20 now, right?) to covering your head in the house as a sign of submission to your husband. Yes, these were Catholic women. Ideas offered to our children, in addition to the normal 'give up candy', included sleeping without a pillow, sleeping on the floor, forgoing all books except school books, being silent until spoken to, etc. A family examination of conscience would include each family member confessing a sin in front of the family and doing a public penance. Are there still convents that do this? I remember thinking that a hairshirt and 'the discipline' would be suggested. It was all about mortifications, little and big. In the 20th century.

I did mention giving up sex to my husband to which he responded that you needed to have enough of something before you give it up so rather we should add more sex to our life for Lent. I was actually offended that he didn't take me seriously. 'Nuff about my sex life, or lack thereof.

Now all this was suppose to help you become detached from things of this world in order to live in God's Will. At the end of Lent, you would emerge closer to God, living more fully in His Will and not yours. You would know God better. I would emerge from Lent a few pounds lighter, or with a cleaner house, or some nasty chore that had been put off for months accomplished, but as to feeling closer to God, I can't say that was ever an outcome for me; neither did I know God any better. I recall so many conversations where friends would talk of what a blessed, holy Lent it was for them. How they felt they had died a little more to themselves and were living more in accordance with God. How their relationship with God was so much closer and holy. I would nod my head, say the right things while on the inside wonder why I was the only one that didn't have these holy experiences during Lent. After more than several years, I became very cynical and began to doubt the honesty of these friends. I became suspicious that they said these things because that's what sounded good. It made them more holy, more Godly, more pious. See what a nasty, jealous person I am? Instead of emerging from Lent a better person, I emerged a nastier person - on the inside, anyway.

Sometime after my mom's death when I started to take apart my faith (with the hope of re-building it from the ground up) I became totally disillusioned with Lent. And I quit. During this time I prayed and prayed - prayed to know God, to love God. I wanted what those other people had: this personal knowledge of God, this great LOVE for God. What friends said, I wanted for real. What I've found over the last eight years is something very different from what I thought I would find; indeed, what I've found is the opposite of what I thought the answer was. Yes, I knew the answer before I started looking. When that answer never came, and I screamed at God, "I give up", and that was when I started feeling God for the first time.

First off, I was always looking out there. You know, the God out there, up there. In church, in the Bible, in the teachings of Church Fathers, in the lives of the Saints. That God. An external God. Yes, I could have God's life inside of me, His grace, but I could lose that in a heartbeat. Sin. Yes, God was in other people, if they were open to Him, but then I constantly found myself in the trap of judging whether that person was open to God's grace or not. Yuck. So a God out there, a God that would come into my soul, but that would also leave me. No, that's not right. God would never leave me; I would leave God. Just as God doesn't send one to hell, but one chooses hell. Right?

Secondly, as I mulled over the whole Lent thing, I realized one thing that had bothered me the most was how individual it was. It was all about me. My holiness, my godliness, my salvation. People I knew, including myself, became so very introspective. It was all about me. Can I say selfish? Wow. That was sacrilegious. Lent and selfish are polar opposites, right? I don't believe I can even explain that statement, but nonetheless, that's how I felt.

So between looking for that God out there, hoping and praying for that God to live in me, and focusing on me, my salvation, my holiness, I came up empty handed.

A few years ago, Tim and I were watching a show on PBS. It was about women in Africa. It was heart wrenching. My gut hurt. At the risk of sounding corny, while watching that show I felt this incredible amount of love. And, the biggest realization of all? It was love for god, a spirit, a connectedness, a something. Or maybe it was middle age female hormones. Whatever it was, that was the starting of my journey towards knowing god. I had found god, not out there, but in there, in people. People so different from me yet so like me. The god in there, not out there.

Lent has been very different for me since then. It is not a time for me to get all introspective but a time for me to become part of this whole humanity thing, to connect with other humans, to love other humans. Sometimes I am amazed at this love I feel. Love for people; not God, the God, but just people, and that's where I've found god. Giving something up with an eye to solidarity with world is so much more inspiring and hopeful than giving something up in hopes of living in the will of an illusive, confusing God. In a world where we get upset when dinner is 15 minutes late, I now try to share a human connection, a human spirit with those who are lucky to get one meal a day. Looking for any little way to extend help, food, love to those who need our love most of all brings me closer to God than all the mortifications I could ever dream up.

Now I need to add a caveat to this: I don't believe you will find this rigid, puritanical attitude among the average Catholic in the pew. This is solely from my experience with traditional, orthodox (according to them) Catholics. For the most part, they were very disgusted with all the 'feel good nonsense' these 'liberal' priests were spewing from the altar. Many of them would freely admit they hoped and prayed to see the church return to her glory days, to the truth, and leave this modern heresy behind. I think many of them would be happy to wear hairshirt and use the discipline. For me, no thanks.

So, not only am I guilty of the sin of relativism, I am also guilty of the sin of humanism. Big sigh.