Fast Fast

Ending my Lenten fast always feels a little awkward. For the past few years, I followed the trend of technology fasting. This year, I again gave up listening to the radio in the car and general background noise at home and work. I do this so that I am forced to have moments of silence and peace in my day in an effort to hear God better. The first week is always the hardest, especially in the car. Every few minutes I reach for the radio's on button, usually push it, then quickly shut it off. I notice everything, too. I notice window shutter colors on the houses I pass, people picking their noses at stop lights, and how much I want to be distracted from my own thoughts by listening to music or the soothing NPR voices. Sometimes I end up singing to myself the hymns I memorized in fourth grade choir. Other times, I pray out loud "please help me listen!" By the end of Lent, however, I have acclimated to spending that time in silence and inviting God's presence into my four door sedan. So, when Lent is over, do I kick God out by turning on my radio? How do I end the fast? It felt like a fast from fasting when I started introducing sound back into my routine. It never felt quite right until I start fasting for Lent like a Jew.

Jews know how to fast and they know how to end a fast. One of my favorite meals is the break fast on Yom Kippor. I am filled with a sense of accomplishment and solidarity with my family. For Jewish fasts, there is always a clear objective, instructions, and an exit strategy. For instance, the Passover fast goes as follows:
Objective: Don't eat bread. Eat matzoh and remember it is the bread of affliction. Trust in God because we trusted God when he liberated us from Egypt. Remember there are still enslaved persons in the world. Help them. Refrain from eating bread because it will help motivate you to help those who have no bread.
Instructions: Refrain from eating chometz.
Exit strategy: Eight days have passed. You did it! Eat bread with abandon and celebrate that Jews are not slaves in Egypt anymore. Just as there was an end to the wandering in the desert, there is an end to the fast.

Here's how it goes at my church:
Objective: Work on your relationship with God. Go into the wilderness of your soul, figure out what keeps you from God, and get rid of those things in a methodical way of your choosing so you can be closer to God.
Instructions: Decide what you want to refrain from eating, doing, thinking, or being. OR, add something to your diet, routine, prayer list, or habits. Don't use these forty days to kick start a diet, because that is selfish and don't complain about not eating chocolate because then you'll be like the Pharisees that Jesus said not to be like. But, whatever you choose is fine because it is all about your personal relationship with God. By the way, there is a rumor that you can cheat on Sundays, if you want.
Exit strategy: Whenever the Spirit moves you, stop fasting. But if you've added something, keep at it! Or, whatever.

This year, I've decided to do two Jewish things to help me end Lent with more satisfaction and in an effort to continue all the good things that have come from my fast. First, I am continuing my radio fast one day a week. Fridays seem appropriate as it will be a Sabbath time of silent reflection, prayer and communing with God. Second, I had a Lenten break fast. I listened to my favorite music and sang from top of my lungs. It was a celebration and it felt right.

Preparations continued

I hate cleaning. It is the most redundant task I can think of next to bathing and brushing my teeth. Some of my friends love to clean. They are the neat people and they are organized and tidy. They seem to always find time to put things in their place. I wish I could be one of these people. I must admit that I resent these people a little because they make it painfully obvious that I am not one of those people. Currently, every surface in my house is covered with clutter. Everywhere I turn, there are stacks of paper, coffee rimmed mugs, laundry (clean and dirty), dishes, yarn or shoes. I can't escape the mess even at work because my classroom is messy, too! In this regard, my husband and I are two peas in a pod. Cleaning just always gets put on the back burner and, well, we don't really mind. At least I don't mind so long as no one else sees my mess. We have a high mess tolerance, but we are sensitive to those who do not.

I talked to my mother-in-law today about cleaning (she is one of the neat people) and she told me that one way she prepares for the the high holidays is deep cleaning. This seems like a good practice and one to which I aspire. Like biur chametz, physical cleaning becomes sanctified when through the chore, we make room for God. It also makes room for the uninvited guest, the surprise visitor. As it stands now, like my full fridge, there is a lot stuff cluttering my way to God. There is nowhere to rest my eyes in my home and no space for the mini sabbath rests needed to re-energize me on a daily basis. If a neighbor stopped by to borrow a cup of sugar, I would be mortified. So, not only do the physical items get in my way, but the guilt about not being a better housekeeper, a better wife, or a more with-it, organized person obstructs my spiritual path. Plus, I'm tired. How can I fit it all in? There's work, playing with the dogs, watching a little TV, making dinner, doing the dishes, going to boot camp, knitting projects, magazines and books to read, and a new house to decorate to name a few preferred activities and some obligations. I wonder a lot about how I can have the energy to get it all done. We don't even have kids yet! Learning about biur chametz, however, is helping me look at cleaning differently.

Biur chametz is an extreme practice for some Jews (as seen in this article here) and I'm not interested in anything extreme. I like the middle of things: oreos, political parties, and religious practices. But the take away for me is that cleaning can be a spiritual practice just like fasting. I fast for Lent and for Passover in different ways and I think my fasts serve a similar purpose. By fasting, I am creating a vacuum for God to fill. For Lent, I fast from listening to the radio in my car. Even with a shorter commute than ever this year, it is still a difficult practice. At the beginning of the forty days, I dread the silence. I fidget and hum, fiddle with my dashboard and talk to myself. I invite God to be present with me during my rides. I pray for the ability to listen and be still. I also hope I'm a better driver during Lent and that I pay better attention to the road. Four days out from Easter, I still reached for the radio's on button when I was driving home from work, but I followed the action with prayer. I was quiet. I listened and it felt good.

Cleaning my house can help me make room for God, too. I talk to my students about cleaning up after themselves. I tell them it is a sign of respect. It honors the work that went into making our classroom tools. It shows kindness to those who take care of vacuuming our rug and taking out our trash by making their job a little easier. It helps them show self-respect because they say to themselves by cleaning that they are worth a nice spot to work and play. And, it just makes the day go smoother when we know where things are and we're not tripping over the rogue lego or glue stick. I need to practice what I preach.

I am determined to clean and I've started with my car. What if some one asks for a ride home from work and my car is too full of junk? What if that person starts a conversation that leads to inspiration or empathy or the beginning of a new friendship? How can I not make room for that? Cleaning makes room for surprises and surprises are important during Lent and Passover. Opening the door for Elijah at the seder, finding the golden egg at an Easter egg hunt, and looking for signs of spring are surprises that fill me with hope. According to Sarah Parsons' guide, A Clearing Season: Reflections for Lent, inviting God to surprise you is also an act of trust. She says, "spiritual growth means learning to expect and welcome surprise of any kind. The hard part of this growth process comes in accepting that we are not in control. This season, as we clear space, we allow new things to happen, things we do not entirely plan or control" (p. 62). I'm going to keep working at asking God for surprises. Cleaning will help me prepare to ask.

Preparing the kitchen: biur chametz

I just got back from the grocery store and I am unloading our Passover-friendly foods (and some Easter candy) when I notice something. My refrigerator is full. Shamefully full. Sauteed zucchini, an unopened tub of cottage cheese from two months ago, three nearly full tubs of sour cream, take out, deli meat, pizza, peas in mint butter sauce, molded cheese, soured milk, and bowl after bowl of leftovers stare at me under florescent lights. As I toss this food in the trash and down the disposal I feel overwhelming sorrow, guilt, and frustration. I feel like the mom from A Christmas Story who chides her son for not eating his dinner while there are starving children in Africa. How could we be so thoughtless? I feel guilty that I have been so wasteful of our resources: the effort I put into making this food, the gas I used to drive to the store, the time I spent choosing the ingredients, and the monetary value of our waste. How could I be so careless?

To me, Lent and Passover are about three things: food, sacrifice, and remembering important stories. As I stood there watching all that once good food literally going down the drain, I couldn't help but think of how absent-minded I've been about Lent and Passover this year. I'm going through the motions of fasting without setting my intention. If God was trying to get my attention, then God's got it.

Yesterday, I learned about the Passover tradition called biur chametz. It's the tradition of preparing your kitchen for Passover by removing all the chametz (the five forbidden grains) and all the dishes and utensils you use to prepare those foods from your kitchen before Passover. It reminds me of Fat Tuesday. Tonight was my way of preparing the kitchen and my heart. Now that I have cleaned, I can set my intentions without distraction. I set my intention now to be more attuned to the needs of others because I have plenty, I set my intention to talk to God when I feel spiritual hunger, and I set my intention to let the stories of freedom and redemption inspire me to work towards freeing others.