Lenten disciplines take a variety of forms, but they usually fall into one of two categories: “giving up” or “adding to.” We might deprive ourselves of some indulgence or luxury as a form of penance, on the one hand. Dessert, alcohol, television or social media are commonly given up both as a form of spiritual discipline and as a reminder of Christ’s 40-day sojourn in the desert. On the other hand, we might engage in some additional practice of prayer or service. Spiritual or corporal works of mercy might take the form of Eucharistic adoration, praying the Daily Office, or serving at a soup kitchen or homeless shelter.
Regardless of the type of discipline we engage in, Lenten discipline ought to be intentionally related to moral and spiritual growth. We don’t give up alcohol or visit the sick as ends in themselves. Rather, we do these things with the intention of more deeply loving and serving God and, thus, our neighbor. Intentional Lenten practice serves spiritual and moral maturity. This intentionality may include the selection of what — and how — we read during Lent. Whether works of spiritual instruction, prayer or literature, reading can be incorporated into the intentional moral and spiritual growth of a blessed Lent. With that in mind, I offer a few suggestions for fruitful Lenten reading as we turn our gaze toward the Cross.
“Let the Great World Spin” by Colum McCann
Set in Ireland and (mostly) the rough streets of the Bronx, New York, “Let the Great World Spin” could have been written with Lent in mind. It is the story of an Irish monk-brother dedicated to serving not just outcasts, but the furthest fringes of the outcast. Prostitutes and drug addicts are Brother Corrigan’s congregation. Told from the perspective of several essential characters, the novel takes us deep into the crushing cycles of poverty and addiction from which so many people are unable to escape.
But McCann also accounts for the vicissitudes of life that affect all of us, regardless of our station. He juxtaposes the nonlinear narrative of the story with Philippe Petit’s very linear tightrope walk between the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. Petit arranges his walk to the most granular particularity, seeing to every minute detail in order to account for any eventuality. Against the background of this fixed point swirls the chaotic contingencies of disparate but interlocking characters trying to make sense of the great spinning world. Along the way, the novel takes the reader deep into the meaning of self-sacrifice and disinterested availability, even for those who don’t “deserve” it. It’s a story about giving oneself wholly to others, even at the cost of great pain and personal sacrifice. Sound familiar?
“Mariette in Ecstasy” by Ron Hansen
In addition to being a successful novelist, Ron Hansen is a permanent deacon in the Catholic Church. Thus, he brings a Catholic sensibility to all his novels, including “The Kid,” a fictionalized account of the life of Billy the Kid, and “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.” The latter was adapted into a very fine film, directed by Andrew Dominik, with a bravura performance by Casey Affleck as Robert Ford.
“Mariette in Ecstasy” is a different kind of book from these Americana romps through the Old West. Set in 1906, it is the story of a devout, prayerful, but (or is “and” the right conjunction?) misunderstood postulant in a fictional New York convent. Mariette’s ecstatic episodes, in which erotic imagery sometimes portrays deep spiritual union, draw admiration from some sisters and opprobrium from others.
While the reader must make her own judgments about the authenticity of Mariette’s visions, the novel articulates the nature of grace as embodied communication of the divine. We Catholics do not separate the sacred from the profane, understanding that the former permeates all parts of the latter. This, of course, is the genius of our sacramental understanding of the world. Ron Hansen tests the depth of our commitment to, and understanding of, that essential Catholic truth.
“The Five Wounds” by Kirstin Valdez Quade
Expressly divided into three parts, “Holy Week,” “Ordinary Time” and “Lent” (in that order), “The Five Wounds” is a visceral, gut-grabbing novel about addiction, piety and spiritual persistence. But mostly it is about the struggle of one man, Amadeo Padilla, to make sense of his feckless life and the chaotic lives of those around him. Amadeo is a 33-year-old alcoholic, living with his mother in a small New Mexico town, estranged from his unmarried, pregnant 16-year-old daughter, and otherwise completely adrift from any orderly purpose. Despite (or perhaps, for some readers, because of) this, Amadeo is a highly sympathetic man. His struggles, while written large against the backdrop of a chaotic, dysfunctional family, resonate with all of us who struggle with failure and disappointment.
In some degree, we can put ourselves in the place of each of the colorful characters in “The Five Wounds.” It is a story of imperfect people yearning to love and be loved, but never quite sure how that works. Along the way, however, Amadeo, along with his ailing mother and daughter, begin to figure it out together. In helping them to come to a resolution, Valdez Quade gives us a fictionalized account of the real world of failure and success, sin and redemption and the overwhelming solace of the love of Christ. Amadeo’s is not a conventional Catholic family. But whose is?
Lent is a journey of spiritual and moral reflection and growth, sustained through intentional practices and disciplines. These novels can accompany us along the way, helping us to go deeper into the depths of Christ’s passion for us.
