Lent shouldn't be a 40-day guilt trip

Instead of giving up something mindless, give something meaningful

Ash Wednesday means Lent has officially arrived along with that big question looming over you and your fate:

What do you plan to give up for 40 days?

I grew up super-sized Catholic — 10 siblings, a giant crucifix over the TV set, rosaries tucked under the bed pillows, photos of JFK and the Pope in the dining room and mandatory mass on Sundays or risk eviction.

Back in the days of Boot Camp Catholicism, to prepare for Lent we had to announce to the nuns what we were giving up. We tried to choose broccoli and homework but they wanted us to give up candy, chocolate or gossip.

When we moved into adulthood, more was expected, so we gave up coffee, beer, Netflix, Facebook, swearing or smoking.

The idea of giving up a vice reminds me of the guy who gave up drinking, smoking and swearing for Lent. When asked, How’s it going? The man replied, “Damn it, I left my cigarettes in the bar.”

Lent doesn’t have to be a 40-day guilt trip or an endurance test.

You could make it a 40-day gratitude journey and spend 40 days practicing that greatest commandment of all: Love.

The point is to grow spiritually, not to punish yourself physically.

Lent is a great time to take stock of your spiritual condition. A great time for a little spiritual spring-cleaning on the inside. What's buried in the closet of your soul? Who have you closed your heart on? What needs to be released from the nooks and crannies of your heart?

Fear? Resentment? Anger? Apathy?

If you start with the end in sight, on Easter morning, what do you want to have changed over these 40 days? What difference do you want to have made? What habit or character defect do you want removed? Who do you want to be?

Why not make it something with meaning that will make your life or someone else's life better.

Those ashes on your forehead are supposed to remind you of your mortality. “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” If you had 40 days to live, what would you give up? Better yet, what would you give?

You could . . .

Give a compliment, a smile or the right of way to that car in a hurry. Give up that great parking spot right by the grocery store door that someone more tired than you needs.

Give a grudge a rest. Release that big fat resentment you’ve spent your whole life nurturing. You know which one. The big kahuna. The ex-husband. The ex-wife. Your dad. Your mom. The daughter who hasn't spoken to you in years. Set the captives free. For 40 days, pray every day for that person's perfect good. God knows what that is, you don't need to. Pray that they know how much God loves them, even if you don't feel any love for them. God's love will reach them. And you.

Give up all that shame, that darkness inside that makes you feel rotten to the core, as if you were born unworthy. You weren’t. You were made whole and holy.

Give a single parent or parent of a special needs child 40 minutes of help so she or he can do something alone.

Give an elderly person your ear for 40 minutes and really listen to how they survived a childhood of poverty, that terrible war, the the loss of so many dear friends over the decades.

Give thanks for 40 minutes at the cemetery to your ancestors for all the sacrifices they made for you.

Give $40 to The Gathering Place to help cover the cost of free wigs for women going through chemo.

Give fear, doubt, gossip, complaining and whining a rest for 40 days or forever.

Give yourself a new God. Give up your old bogey man God and find a God of joy who loves the masterpiece that is you. A God who loves you more than your grandma does. A God who loves you to the moon and back. A God who isn’t armed. A God who already loves you, as is.

Give up multi-tasking and simply do one thing with complete presence.

Give up all those to-do lists. For 40 days, let Plan A be whatever life chooses to give you and simply love and serve the day that unfolds before you.

Give up your regrets. For 40 days, at the end of every day, pause and review the day. Is there anyone you shut out of your heart? Any words you wish you could take back? Any words you wish you had said? Make amends now.

Give up music that makes you feel sad and depressed. What do you want to be the soundtrack to your life? Create a playlist that makes you want to play.

Give up one meal a week and donate the money to a foodbank.

Give away one item a week to Goodwill or the Cleveland Furniture Bank.

Give yourself a retreat at the Jesuit Retreat Center in Parma to feed your own soul.

Give these words to others: You were right...I’m sorry...I love you...I forgive you…Thank you…You did a great job.

Give up these words: You always...You never...Whatever…Why do I even bother?

Give another religion a chance. Visit a different church, temple or mosque.

Give thanks to 40 people. Call, text or mail a thank you note every day to the neighbors, teachers, family and friends who shaped you and blessed your life.

Give thanks for the life you have: The income. The kids. The home that is your personal money pit. The dog that eats every left shoe. Bless the mess that is your life.

Give your presence to the person right in front of you: That person is always the most important person in your life. Be present. Look them in the eye. Use their name. People love to hear their name spoken.

Give yourself 40 seconds in the mirror every day to savor who you are in God's sight. God loves you because who God is, not because of who you are. You are always enough for God. God loves the imperfect you who will probably cheat and eat a Twinkie, sip a beer or maybe even swear during Lent.

Give yourself a break. No more beating yourself up over your weight, your age, your choices. Once and for all, forgive yourself for everything.

For 40 days, ask yourself this: What would someone who loved themselves do? Then go do it.

Because in the end, Easter is a love story.