Lent: The things we 'give up' willingly, and those we don't (or, that car was stolen, and 'lent')

 Eastern Orthodox Christians take Lent seriously.

"Boy howdy," as a childhood friend from central Washington's wheat and ranching region would exclaim, do they take Lent seriously.

Six weeks of vegan diet is just the beginning of this time of repentance, reflection, and learning about -- albeit by faltering baby steps -- that (especially for us spoiled, fat Americans) undiscovered country of humility. 

Most outsiders to this most ancient, predenominational of Christian faiths (2,000 years and counting) focus on the food part of all this. But there's so much more to it.

Fasting from the distractions of the world is a commitment just as big, indeed probably more needful these days. Cut back on the TV, popular/secular music, social media, etc., if not try to just do without it period -- replace that with quiet moments, prayer, reading spiritual works, and uplifting, thoughtful literature in the broader sense.

Then there's the concept of almsgiving. That's not just giving a buck to a beggar, but being open to the plethora of ways we can purposely be charitable and loving to our fellow humans. What you save on skipping that steak dinner could be donated to a food bank or shelter, for example. Or, anonymously picking up the tab at a restaurant for an elderly couple or young family; pay for the Starbucks coffee ordered by the person in the drive up line behind you.

Offer a smile to a passer-by, a greeting. You know, random acts of kindness can have value beyond one's understanding, whether you are Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant, or none of the above. To a believer, it can be liberating, a grasp at the essence of God's love.

Even if you do not believe that way, you probably do suspect there is a sort of Law of Reciprocity that reveals itself just as observably as those of long-undisputed laws of gravity, magnetic fields, physics, etc.

A the very least, and in ways ultimately still beyond our comprehension, such acts make others feel better. And they make you feel better, too.

But, after that metaphysical if not cosmic detour of thought, I'm taking this blog back to Lent, Orthodox Christian style.

Last weekend I prepared to enter this Lenten season (my fourth) ready to do better, at least incrementally. I was prepared, as I say: meat and dairy replaced by fruit, nuts, and veggies, and striving to acquire a taste for (or at least grudging tolerance for) black coffee. My reading materials were chosen (spiritual and secular alike), I had familiarized myself with the church service schedules, and brushed up on my Lenten prayer rule.

Then, someone stole my car Saturday night. Sunday, they found it trashed in a vacant industrial park in South Salt Lake. Police and insurance reports (the latter worthless, as the policy covered nothing but liability), trying to decide when/if to replace the car . . . and all while wondering why, with a row of new or late-model vehicles to choose from parked in front of our condo complex, a thief would pick my 23-year-old, 137,000-mile, reclaimed-at-auction beater to jack.

My parish priest, hearing my (I thought) rather good excuse for being absent, was suitably consoling. But what he said at the end of our conversation made me consider what had happened in a new, or at least more revealing (?) light.

"Yes, horrible. . . But what can you say? It must be Lent!"

No, God didn't send a probationary angel to shimmy open my locked Honda and rip the steering column apart to jam a screwdriver into the ignition. Life happens. But how we react to Life, well, that's kind of the point, right?

So, here's me with an unexpected opportunity to stretch, to focus on what really matters in life. And what really matters in life is Life. There's love, and hardship, unheralded victories of spirit and charity, and tasting the air we breathe, seeing beyond both time and space, hearing the conversation of the natural world around us, and seeing both the Eternal, and the universe within the eyes of a loved one.

And later today, I'll be looking at a 2012 Ford sub-compact. Manual transmission. A less-attractive model, I'm told, to thieves who have Hondas (however old) and Toyotas at the top of their "to-steal" lists.

Have your own, blessed Lent!