Lent

by George Herbert

Welcome dear feast of Lent: who loves not thee,
He loves not Temperance, or Authority,
But is composed of passion.
The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church says, now:
Give to your Mother, what you would allow
To every Corporation.

* * *

It 's true, we cannot reach Christ's fortieth day;
Yet to go part of that religious way,
Is better than to rest:
We cannot reach our Savior's purity;
Yet are bid, Be holy ev'n as he.
In both let 's do our best.

Who goes in the way which Christ has gone,
Is much more sure to meet with him, than one
Who travels the by-ways:
Perhaps my God, though he be far before,
May turn, and take me by the hand, and more
May strengthen my decays.

Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast
By starving sin and taking such repast
As may our faults control:
That ev'ry man may revel at his door,
Not in his parlor; banqueting the poor,
And among those his soul.

* * *

I am not a good faster at all. I would rather do almost any sacrifice than fast. Yet this poem helps me remember that fasting is about banqueting my poor soul. I'm afraid my body tends to get way more attention, just because my stomach growls while my soul sits quietly waiting for me to feed it. Somehow going without food makes me feel more in control of "brother Ass," my body, and more inclined to prayer.

I wish you all a happy and holy Lent, the boot camp of all the year. May we come out of it leaner, stronger, and closer to God.