One of my number one rules of blogging, aside from a three drink limit and a ban on bathtub blogging, is don’t write about Sr. Joan Chittester. It is boring.
That said, I am breaking my rule today because my topic du jour is boring. Not that my topic IS boring, but my post is ABOUT boring. So I judge it ok to break my rule this time.
So fair warning, I am now going to quote Sister. Please do not read this quote if you are operating heavy machinery.
Lent is not an event. It is not something that happens to us. It is at most a microcosm of what turns out to be a lifelong journey to the center of the self.
The purpose of Lent is to confront us with ourselves in a way that’s conscious and purposeful, that enables us to deal with the rest of life well. It is not a “penitential season.” It is a growing season. It requires us to determine what is worth dying for in our own lives and what it may be necessary for us to become if we really want to live.
I do not intend to critique Sr. Joan’s statement, per se, as we hold certain untruths to be self evident.
However after reading it, shortly after I stopped giggling, I realized how lucky I am. I cannot imagine a worse fate than a lifelong journey to the center of self. How boring would that be? I am boring, really boring, and what the pantsuit pantheists don’t realize is—so are they.
It is a strange conceit of the panthodox set that their selves are worth exploring. It is merely navel-gazing performed by the megalo-mundane vainly baptized as “spirituality.”
Following Jesus is not a journey to the center of self, it is learning to die to one’s self. It is not about exploring self to learn what to die for, as Sister Joan would have it, but dying to self to learn what to live for. The death of self leaves a God shaped hole that is filled by something much better, something much more interesting than me.
Sometimes when I finish praying to God about all I want-wish-need, I check myself and say, “Enough about me God, tell me about You.”