ASH WEDNESDAY– In advertising there is the well-known tactic of “bait-and-switch.” There are different ways of doing this. One way is to advertise a particular product in such a way that it gets potential buyers into the store only then to substitute and sell an inferior product.

We might say that the way of Lent reverses this strategy. Beginning today on Ash Wednesday we are invited to participate consciously in the bait-and-switch switch. In this season, we are encouraged to switch that which is inferior with superior goods in the hope that by creating new habits of the heart we might more willingly and passionately walk the path of Jesus in all seasons.

First, we take stock. We take an honest inventory of our lives. We ask ourselves what gets in the way of flourishing, what prevents thriving, what are the obstacles to well-being, peace, and justice — our own and those of the larger communities of which we are an integral part. Next, we prayerfully consider what enhances life and love and well-being for ourselves and others, especially the most vulnerable, human and other-than-human, and decide to employ the counter-cultural practice of reversing the bait-and-switch: that is, we choose to replace not superior products with cheaper or inferior ones but rather inferior attitudes and actions with superior ones. Superior here does not connote smugness or presumption but rather suggests the truth, dignity, and nobility that is an indigenous capacity for we who are made in the image of God.

Here are some examples.

We replace obsessive self-criticism with graciousness and self-acceptance.
We give up the self-righteous judgment of others for the practice of humility and empathy.
We surrender our inclination to denigrate with our choice to see the other as sacred image.
We let go of indifference and offer common deeds with compassion and goodness.

We replace the toxicity of jealousy with the relief of contentment, bitterness with the practice of kindness, and resentment with the freedom of forgiveness.
We give up worry for the practice of radical trust.
We surrender our need to talk for our deeper need to listen.
We let go of ingratitude and offer gratefulness, relinquish a sense of entitlement for a genuine sense of gratuitousness.

We replace being AWOL from our own lives with being present here and now in attentive love.
We give up busyness for slowing down and savoring.
We surrender our need to be right for the willingness to see another perspective.
We let go of our sense of helplessness and offer the courage to make a difference.

We replace fear that hinders or harms with the practice of faith that enhances and heals.
We give up the blame of others for the practice of personal accountability.
We surrender what causes us to exclude, bully, or demonize for what enables us to embrace, protect, and honor.
We let go of vitriol, violation, and violence, and offer welcome, reverence, and peace.

Perhaps one or two of these might resonate with you and become an intention and practice during Lent. Perhaps one or two might help us to make the poignant words from the opening lines to Gaudium et Spes our own:

The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. (#1).

Simply stated, the “purpose” of Lent is to be Christened. The purpose of Lent is to more completely “put on the mind of Christ,” to let Christ Easter in us until Easter becomes not a day or a short season but the radical truth of Christ alive in us in the face of suffering and injustice and inhumanity and despair. The intention of the season of Lent is to enable and empower us to more fully — that is, more attentively, gratefully, passionately, justly, and joyfully — participate in the fullness of life and the liberating presence of the Reign of God which Easter symbolizes and makes real.

This is no me ‘n Jesus foo-foo affair. This Way (remember, the early Christians were called the people of the Way) necessarily involves us walking the precarious and sorrowful path of Jesus and entering into the mystery of human ignominy as we look for and notice all the ways, all the places, and all the people in whom Christ is being crucified today in our midst. It invites the courage to bring “the passion” of others close to home, to ask ourselves if we are aware, concerned, or complicit; are we silent and apathetic or afraid to get involved; are we guilty bystanders, or part of the mob whose fear leads them to deflect their culpability and desperation to save their skins by scapegoating another?

Or are we standing with God in God’s hour of need? Are we walking with Jesus toward the Via Dolorosa as he moves closer to the least of these, to the ones who suffer most, especially unnecessarily or unjustly? Are we sacraments of Christ’s presence, companionship, compassion? Do we have the audacity to join Jesus in incarnating love little by little?

The willingness to reflect on these questions during Lent requires deep pause, deep prayer, the courage not to look away or to point accusing fingers, but instead summons from us the wild resolve to “undergo Jesus” and to join the conspiracy of love in a world “gone crazy/ for power/ for things.”1

1 Mary Oliver, “The Sun,” in New and Selected Poems.