Tradition, Truth, and Advent

I understand why so many people have disliked tradition and ritual. It's so easy for people to become caught up in the actions and symbols, forgetting the truth that they represent, that one might easily think those actions and symbols are more of a danger and a distraction than they're worth. After all, one can pray genuinely without kneeling or lighting a candle, and one can rejoice in the coming of Christ without sharing gifts or decorating trees. But, despite all the potential dangers of symbol and ritual (and despite all the personality books that say I ought to dislike traditions in general), I find great meaning and significance in them.

You see, the human mind does not remain at a level. We fight to raise it by reminding it of the truths we believe and by dwelling on the beauties and wonders of the world; if we neglect these duties, we slip back downwards into mental confusion, apathy, ingratitude, and joylessness. Like the forces of Gondor ever watchful against the enemy in Mordor, in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, a failure in our vigilance could mean the loss of a bridge or the desolation of a beautiful land - and the fight to regain and restore what was lost will almost certainly be harder and more bitter than the original fight to preserve what was already there would have been. So, paraphrasing Lewis, it is incredibly important to set before ourselves everyday some reminder of the essential core truth of our faith - to give us the eyes to see clearly the spiritual realities around us, to inspire us to live in the beauty and joy whose fulfillment we hope for in Christ, and to strengthen us with grace for the daily and hourly fight.

I would argue that tradition - if the reason behind it is remembered - can be an excellent way of setting before ourselves those truths that we most need to hear. Because we did not create the traditions, they often remind of us of those aspects of our faith that make us most uncomfortable, or that we would be most apt to forget, as well as those that seem most natural and pleasant to us. Because they have endured through the years, they have (often, at any rate) been honed and improved by generations of people striving to obey and know Christ more fully. Because they are inextricably intertwined with the physical world, they help us engage our bodies in our worship and faith; because they repeat every day or every year as time passes on, they help link eternal truth and beauty with the temporal world in which we live.

I have to admit that, despite my theoretical interest in and appreciation for the traditions of the faith, I don't actually put that many of them into practice (the side effect of growing up Protestant, probably). Every Sunday I go to church and partake of Communion (can I say in passing how much I love that particular tradition? To have weekly such a tangible and powerful reminder of Christ's sacrifice and love is such a blessing), and every Christmas season I light the candles of Advent - but that's really all I do. I don't want to add in more traditions just for the sake of doing them, of course, but if there are others that will give me the same encouragement, redirection, and hope as the traditions of Advent, then I would like to make them traditions in my heart and home as well. We'll see how things go. But for now, Advent is here! The season of hope and expectation, of remembering that God Himself has come to dwell among us, of longing for His return and the restoration of all things, has begun! Lift up your eyes to the heavens and see, with the eyes of memory or with the eyes of hope, the Light coming to the world to cast away our darkness.

Meditation for Ash Wednesday

I've been writing about death, specifically as in our death as citizens of heaven to this world (here and here), for the past couple days because today is the first day of Lent, and Lent is in a sense all about death. In the sense that Advent is a time of preparation leading up to the celebration of Christmas, Lent is a time to ready our souls for the celebration of Easter. Traditionally, this is done by an increased focus on prayer, fasting, and giving: prayer aligns us with God, drawing us nearer to Him; fasting (not necessarily from food, but as a general practice of self-denial) is intended to help us detach from the pleasures and pursuits of this world, to die to ourselves; and giving is a restoration of harmony between people made by considering the needs and interests of others as well as of ourselves. So in our relationship with God, ourselves, and others we seek to put off the old man of sin and put on the new man of righteousness in Christ. Because of where the season falls in the liturgical year, it is also a fitting time to read the gospels and see how Jesus lived and conducted Himself as He prepared for His own death, and then seek to emulate Him in our lives here and now.

Shouldn't we be doing this all year long, though? Of course! Seeking righteousness for forty days during Lent isn't a ticket for pursuing our own pleasures and desires the rest of the year! But I think maybe it is good to have a yearly reminder, encouragement, and challenge to seek God more intentionally, just as it is good to rejoice in His resurrection on a specific day each year even though that resurrection should be a source of joy in our lives on every day. As long as the season of Lent remains just that, instead of becoming a ritual through which you try to obtain righteousness, merit, and the approval of God, I think it can be a very good thing - a time to recommit (to use a more Evangelical-friendly word!) and repent.

My main concern with Lent (and with many of the other traditions and rituals of the Church) comes from Paul's letter to the Colossians, where he writes,

"Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations - 'Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle,' which all concern things which perish with the using - according to the commandments and doctrines of men? These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh."

For example, it is really spiritually beneficial to fast on Ash Wednesday, as the tradition goes? Or if I fast as a mere religious ritual, am I really strengthening my spiritual pride in my control over my flesh without actually having to learn self-denial and death in the ways God gives me to learn them? Am I creating my own rules, which I am capable of following, so that I don't have to face up to my failure to follow God's rules? Am I creating my own self-imposed religion, so that I don't have to feel my deep and biting need for God's grace?

While I want to commemorate Lent this year, I need to make sure that my heart is right as I do it (in the same way as I need to do with Advent and Christmas, honestly, although the temptations for each season are different). If I use the time to more intentionally seek God or to strive to be more generous with my resources, I must make sure that I do so without pride, without loudly proclaiming what I'm doing so as to get recognition for it, and with a genuine desire to know God more. He must be the center in order for it to be good - but conversely, if He is the center, than it will be good. And personally I think that if I spend all of Lent trying to follow God with my whole heart, I will be constantly reminded of my great need for His grace, so that when Easter comes (which is the celebration of His wonderful grace and power toward us!) I will be able to celebrate it with incredible joy - and hopefully I will have begun to establish patterns and habits of seeking God in my life, so that after the season is over I may continue to pursue Him just as intentionally and just as passionately.