I, an agnostic, attended the 7 p.m. Ash Wednesday service at The Chapel of Saint John the Divine last week.
Why do it? Nobody asked me to go, and I went in without knowing anyone. I didn’t grow up Episcopalian, and I hadn’t been to church since the Christmas Eve service with my extended family at some Southern Baptist joint.
However, I’ve been interested in Episcopalianism’s more liberal theology, and the chapel is conveniently located on campus just north of the Main Library.
The reason for my Ash Wednesday escapade was two-fold. First, I wanted to practice giving something up for Lent, and second, Ash Wednesday is an opportune time to visit church if you haven’t been in a while. I wished to blend in with other strays.
And indeed, the young man sitting next to me appeared to be in the same position I was. We went up for communion, and I sheepishly dipped my wafer into the wine. I looked over at my pew neighbor, who took it but awkwardly refused the wine from the clergyman.
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I froze for a moment at the stressed interaction. Then, realizing we were the last two people up at the front, we quickly rose from our knees and walked back to our seats as dutifully as we could.
Well, at least I wasn’t alone. But to that first point: Ash Wednesday kicks off the season of Lent in the Christian tradition. Many Christians will choose to give up something for the season of Lent, like coffee or chocolate. Lent ends the Thursday before Easter Sunday, the latter being when the Church celebrates Jesus’ return from the dead, saving humanity from sin and death.
Last year, I chose Ash Wednesday as the day I would give up TikTok — yes, very Gen Z, I know. I was sick and tired of my addiction to the app whenever I had free time. Why don’t I read? Why don’t I write? Anything else!
I considered the alignment with Ash Wednesday at the time but concluded that it was just a coincidence, nothing special. Looking back, I think making the choice that day solidified it in my mind.
I was so successful at abstaining from TikTok that, even after Lent, I didn’t go back. It was a useful demarcation between old and new — a personal death and resurrection if you like.
This year, I recalled that experience and decided to up the ante: less time on my phone. I created a maxim: When I’m in my apartment, I’ll put my phone in a Ziploc bag. When I pick it up, I can look at the time and see if there are any important notifications, but otherwise, I have a physical barrier to the digital world.
It’s not so simple since phones have many uses nowadays, and I think listening to music or doing something productive are certainly possibilities. But the ideal would be to cut my screen time to less than two hours a day — one hour if I can muster it.
Now, the idea of depriving oneself is an ascetic one, and Christianity is a very ascetic religion. I didn’t realize how self-denying Christianity is until I read a book recently about the differences between Christianity and Judaism. I found that Judaism does not emphasize fasting, isolation and poverty the way that Christianity does. Christianity upholds sacrifice and pain as virtuous, which is questionable.
Can we enjoy life at all? Does everything have to be a sacrifice?
While I do think Christianity goes off the ascetic deep end, I also believe that we find ourselves in a very indulgent age. On the internet, pornography, gambling, illegal drugs, mindless content consumption and personalized propaganda are abundant. Almost anything you can think of can be shipped to you in the mail on the backs of underpaid workers.
We are treated and treat ourselves as atomized individuals, sometimes as personal brands, rather than as humans in a community. In that regard, some reflection and asceticism are warranted for many of us, especially the more privileged. If it takes an Ash Wednesday service to get things going, so be it.
I also think the old philosophy of my religion professor echoes in my mind. He is an Episcopalian, and I remember him emphasizing to our class the importance of tradition. In my skeptical days, I thought this was nothing more than an appeal to tradition, a logical fallacy.
But how he described it was that holy days break up the monotony of life. If every day were like the rest, if we didn’t have certain days to step back and gain perspective, life would become dull.
Humans are an interesting bunch: We don’t like chaos, but we don’t like sameness. Maybe what we like is cyclicality, as a church calendar dictates, or the phases of the moon. Days of work, days of celebration and days of rest.
I hope all of these kinds of days make up your Lenten/spring season. Let me know if you’re giving up something interesting for Lent at my email, and if not, go ahead and scroll TikTok in my stead.
Grace is a graduate student studying urban planning.
