What Are You Doing For Easter?
Taking Stock of Lent During Holy Week
I fondly remember going to my grandpa’s house with my family to help him prune his apple trees. We did this in the depressing middle stage just before spring. Winter had left the countryside barren and colorless. While the warming climate could now reliably keep snow at bay, it hadn’t done so for long enough that any new life could capitalize.
But what these days lacked in vibrant scenery, they made up for in quality time. If I staged a March Madness style tournament to determine my favorite childhood memory, these cold, wet, gloomy days outside with my grandpa would make for a scrappy underdog squad capable of shocking the world with a deep run toward the championship.
Why were they so enjoyable? Not only did I get to spend time with my grandpa, I got to do so in a fun and engrossing task where I felt genuinely useful rather than merely included. Being trusted with sharp clippers, getting to climb high up to reach the tall limbs, and making large piles of branches sometimes made the process feel as much as if I were on the playground as it felt like I was doing a strenuous chore. And while the scenery was somber, there was also something deeply calming in the stillness and silence of my dormant surroundings.
Perhaps best of all, almost everything I saw and did during those days was a reminder that Spring would soon arrive. The trees would fill with stunningly beautiful blossoms, soon to be followed by heaps of delicious apples.
These days I’ve been thinking about how my experience relates to Lent and Easter. Nature in general is an inexhaustible source of spiritual insight - here is what has stood out to me from reflecting on my time there with my grandpa:
Why do we Fast?
To the untrained eye, we were causing fairly drastic and seemingly unnecessary damage to the trees. Why were we snipping, hacking, and sawing away at perfectly healthy branches? At the end the trees seemed like a shell (albeit a more symmetrical one) of its former self when we were finished.
But we were not out to mutilate or vandalize the trees. I wasn’t helping my grandpa carry out some strange Irish grudge against them. Yes, we were cutting back the trees, but we were doing so in joyful anticipation of an abundant harvest.
In Lent, we fast, we give up things, and we take on various penances, not to punish ourselves, but to help us grow. Lenten fasting is not an exercise of self flagellation; it is an annual preparation for a spiritual spring. Just as a tree will bear more fruit when the extraneous branches are cut away, so we will bear more fruit if our spiritual sap isn’t spread thin across different branches of our lives which distract or lead us away from God.
The Fruit is the Measure
Jesus taught that you will know a tree by its fruits. You will also know how good of a job you did pruning a tree by the amount and quality of the fruit you harvest. If you don’t bear a lot of fruit, perhaps it means you didn’t cut back enough unnecessary branches. Or it could mean that you cut down too many branches, or you chose the wrong branches to cut down.
Similarly with Lent, we can tell how good of a job we did during lent by the amount and quality of spiritual fruit we harvest from it. In Galatians Paul writes:
…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law (Gal 5:22-23).
Has this Lent brought you closer to God? Do you find yourself experiencing and practicing more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? If not, it could be a sign that you didn’t challenge yourself enough during lent; maybe half heartedly giving up potato chips left too many branches on your tree.
It could also mean that you cut off too many branches, or the wrong types of branches. Some people will take on impressive regimens of fasting and self discipline for Lent. When done well these can be very fruitful (I personally encourage all Catholic men to consider trying Exodus 90 at least once in their lives). But if these are done for the wrong reasons, in the wrong ways, or at the wrong times, they can make you more prideful, bitter, and selfish than when you started out.
What if I Didn’t Bear Any Fruit?
It can be uncomfortable and sad to look back on a failed Lent. It’s especially painful if we started out with excitement and good intentions, only to fall right back into our old mediocrity. It can feel like we missed the boat; all that’s left is suffering and regret.
In these sorts of situations, it’s helpful to remember Jesus’ parable about the owner of a vineyard who hired extra workers throughout the day. Jesus shows the difference between how God operates and how we operate in a surprising and challenging twist when it comes time for the workers to receive their wages:
When those who had started about five o’clock came, each received the usual daily wage. So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat.’ He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? [Or] am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’ Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.” (Matthew 20:9-16)
One single moment of realizing your need for God is better than a hundred days of bread and water fasting while relying on yourself. Of course we always want to try our best to enter fully into Lent, but if you failed, don’t waste a moment feeling sorry for yourself! Perhaps your Lenten failure was exactly the experience God wanted you to have. At the end of the day, our spiritual progress doesn’t come from what we do. It’s all about what He did. Not only can you still benefit from Lent, you can benefit just as much and even more than those who worked twice as hard as you.
If you failed at Lent, take this Holy Week and Easter season as an opportunity to bask in God’s grace - a free gift given for no other reason than that God loves and treasures you as his beloved child.
What Do I Do With the Fruit?
In spite of taking on a much lighter load of penances this year, and in spite of carrying those out very imperfectly, my Lent has been borderline life changing. I’m reminded that just as with apples, a good harvest will yield more fruit than you can possibly eat on your own. In this situation, it’s good to celebrate, but it’s also important to not be complacent. The point of pruning was to help the tree bear more fruit. But what’s the point of letting the tree bear more fruit if you just let the fruit rot on the vine? Apples are food, and food is meant for eating and sharing.
At the beginning of Lent, people will often ask the question “What are you doing for Lent?” If we don’t want to let our fruit rot on the vine, the question now needs to be “What are you doing for Easter?” The whole point of Lent is to make more space for God in our hearts, minds, and schedules. Are we going to give that space right back to ourselves, or our jobs, or to our bad habits? Are we going to go immediately back to our old ways? Or are we going to take steps to harvest, consume, and share our fruit?
Easter is a season of celebrating. Pruning will look different than harvesting, and penance will look different from celebrating. In both cases, the former doesn’t make sense without the latter. As we celebrate Holy Week, I encourage you to take stock of how your Lenten pruning went. What got your life off track in the first place, and how can you keep your tree from growing so many unnecessary branches in the first place?
Most importantly, think of ways to celebrate from the godly joy and serenity of a life less weighed down by selfishness and addictions, and of a lively awareness of God’s unconditional love for you.