My God is My Belly

+ Enlarge

I tend to fail at Lent. Whether I make one resolution or 10, by the third week I’ve broken them so often that I give up even trying. I’m with Henri Nouwen in his prayer: “O Lord, make this Lenten season different from the other ones. Let me find you again.”

These words were firmly in mind when I approached the penitential season this year and decided to make one significant effort in each of the three pillars of Lent: prayer, fasting and almsgiving. In the past I’ve made (and kept with some degree of success) resolutions regarding prayer and almsgiving, but my approach to fasting has been more casual and, I confess, more with an eye toward losing weight than improving my spiritual life.

This year, though, I read up on what we Catholics actually are supposed to have in mind by fasting, which is to “fortify our spirit for the battle against sin,” as Pope Francis phrased it in his 2022 Lenten message.

I need all the help I can get in my battle against sin, but I also know that when I’m hungry I turn into an unreasonable beast, and somewhere I read that you should avoid Lenten sacrifices that lead you to sin. So my challenge was to choose a penance that would force me to die to self, while at the same time not afflicting the rest of the world with side effects of my sacrifice.

After prayerful reflection, I resolved to eat three meals a day but abstain from snacking between meals, and to limit desserts to Sunday. This would be a sacrifice, but not lead me to look and act dismal, which Jesus said would fail to bring the heavenly reward I’m seeking.

I also pledged, in keeping with the Lenten intent to show solidarity with the poor, to donate the monetary savings of my reduced diet to CRS Rice Bowl.

This Lenten resolution started off smoothly enough. During the four days from Ash Wednesday to the first Sunday of Lent, my only cause for dismay was just how often I thought about food. It wasn’t that I was hungry, it was that I wanted the comfort of food, to live by bread alone rather than turning to God in prayer for consolation.

The first full week of Lent brought full awareness of just how much “my god is my stomach,” to paraphrase St. Paul. I’m constantly thinking about food. I like putting food in my mouth, feeling the texture against my tongue, tasting the sweet, bitter, sour, salty flavors. It’s more than assuaging my hunger, it’s also about soothing my frustrations. A piece of creamy, luscious dark chocolate melting in my mouth will send my stress fading into the background, at least until the sweet stuff is but a memory.

Not putting a piece of chocolate in my mouth whenever I want makes me conscious of just how often I usually do it. I wish I could say that now when I don’t snack I take the opportunity to pray – St. Isaac the Syrian said, “When a man begins to fast, he straightaway yearns in his mind to enter into converse with God,” – but instead I’ll start planning the dinner menu, or what I’ll have on Sunday when I can finally indulge in a snack.

Until this Lenten experience, I never thought that I placed that much importance on food. Now I realize I’m self-medicating.

One reason to fast is to develop self-discipline. Our faith calls us to renounce ourselves as we follow Christ, who tells us we must take up the cross each day. I’m ashamed to say part of my cross consists of chocolate, potato chips and Cheetos.

 Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.