Contained Chaos
'Tis the Season for Self-Deprivation
Abby Ciampa
Issue date: 2/7/08 Section: Opinion
Lent started yesterday. I'll wait patiently while those of you who fear religious banter more than East Main Street at 3 am to run and hide behind a nearby sofa.
Those of you who have braved the storm, you'll gladly find that I'm not really going to talk about religion at all. Go ahead and relax. The other day, I was talking to a friend about what we planned to give up for Lent, and the discussion spurred some thoughts about the modern practice of self-deprivation for a higher purpose. This friend, like many others, was looking for a concise single-term vice, addiction or pleasure to abandon for the coming forty days. It appears to me that the concept of Lent is frequently taught as such. I don't think there's anything wrong with that; as a matter of fact, I think it's probably one of the most enriching rules Christianity has come up with, and it is far easier to follow than that complicated and subjective "love" mumbo jumbo. However, I wonder if we tend to miss out on the possible benefits of the practice in our desire for sheer simplicity.
I considered giving up caffeine. I like caffeine, I'm probably more dependent on it than is healthy, and it'll be difficult. Therefore, I'd say it meets the popular criteria decently. But there are a lot of habits that would be both harder and more beneficial to give up; for instance, being a doormat. Self-doubt. Compromising my morals to make people happy. Allowing my libido to trump my professional development. When I consider those options, I'd rather go forty years without caffeine.
It's partially denial that inspires avoidance of these intangible and important options, and partially a desire for simplicity. When we give up chocolate, we are definitely doing something good. But are we just doing it because we want the feelings of empowerment that self-restraint gives? Are we secretly too scared to address the larger issues? Or is the traditional nature of Lent just not conducive to creative and critical self-analysis?
My thoughts may be blasphemous, considering I base my opinion on a view of social trends and not religious doctrine, and the fact that my personal practice of Lent is far more rooted in my enjoyment of providing myself with arbitrary personal challenges. I have been known to give up meat or Facebook for a week just for the heck of it; it makes me feel accomplished. But I'll admit that I probably practice Lent more to make up for the personality flaws I have a harder time controlling than to make God happy.
aciampa@capital.edu
Those of you who have braved the storm, you'll gladly find that I'm not really going to talk about religion at all. Go ahead and relax. The other day, I was talking to a friend about what we planned to give up for Lent, and the discussion spurred some thoughts about the modern practice of self-deprivation for a higher purpose. This friend, like many others, was looking for a concise single-term vice, addiction or pleasure to abandon for the coming forty days. It appears to me that the concept of Lent is frequently taught as such. I don't think there's anything wrong with that; as a matter of fact, I think it's probably one of the most enriching rules Christianity has come up with, and it is far easier to follow than that complicated and subjective "love" mumbo jumbo. However, I wonder if we tend to miss out on the possible benefits of the practice in our desire for sheer simplicity.
I considered giving up caffeine. I like caffeine, I'm probably more dependent on it than is healthy, and it'll be difficult. Therefore, I'd say it meets the popular criteria decently. But there are a lot of habits that would be both harder and more beneficial to give up; for instance, being a doormat. Self-doubt. Compromising my morals to make people happy. Allowing my libido to trump my professional development. When I consider those options, I'd rather go forty years without caffeine.
It's partially denial that inspires avoidance of these intangible and important options, and partially a desire for simplicity. When we give up chocolate, we are definitely doing something good. But are we just doing it because we want the feelings of empowerment that self-restraint gives? Are we secretly too scared to address the larger issues? Or is the traditional nature of Lent just not conducive to creative and critical self-analysis?
My thoughts may be blasphemous, considering I base my opinion on a view of social trends and not religious doctrine, and the fact that my personal practice of Lent is far more rooted in my enjoyment of providing myself with arbitrary personal challenges. I have been known to give up meat or Facebook for a week just for the heck of it; it makes me feel accomplished. But I'll admit that I probably practice Lent more to make up for the personality flaws I have a harder time controlling than to make God happy.
aciampa@capital.edu
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