oN LENT

March 24, 2021. For eight years I have been observing the Christian tradition of Lent, in blatant contradiction of my overarching feelings towards the Church, by giving up all psychoactives. After yet another season of bewildered looks and mystified questions, it felt appropriate to explain why and how I’ve adopted this program of behaviour modification.

_____________________________________________

Each year, shortly following the pitiful mockery of human affection that is Valentine’s Day, a much more historic and anthropologically complex event is observed by Christians all over the world. I refer of course to Lent, the practice of forgoing a set of personal comforts for 40 days in order to honour Jesus’ trek into the desert, during which he ostensibly fasted and repeatedly rejected the devil’s provocative temptations.

            Lent first slipped under my mental microscope as I was studying the Qur’an, some ten or so years ago, and reflecting on the role of sacrifice in the name of faith. Not wholly dissimilar to the Islamic custom of Ramadan, these two religious curricula initiated a period of deep thought over such earnest ideological commitments. I was distinctly struck by the method of subtracting pleasures from as opposed to proving conviction with positive action. This simple elegance elevates the concept’s accessibility to anyone and indeed facilitates a more personalized show of devotion.

            As some might know, I generally think one’s tongue would be better employed slurping turpentine than extending praise to organized religion; that said, the pious’ adherence to such programs rests on a bed of self-control and ergo to my mind warrants high admiration. It is not necessary to agree with the root cause or purpose of human behaviour to appreciate the effort of fulfilling its intent. (As an aside, I hold the same, bordered respect for any priest who truly remains celibate throughout their life, though I simultaneously struggle to imagine anything more unnaturally perverse.)

            And so it was eight years ago that I decided to insert the observation of Lent into my annual spring season. To be clear, this wasn’t in pursuit of moral clarity or any connection with God – that ship sailed from the harbour years ago, capsizing in a storm of inductive logic, without survivors – but instead in celebration of the belief that discipline is a virtue in itself. That I chose to appropriate and still copy this spiritual framework today is acknowledgment of the idea’s source, even though the appeal lies in the test of one’s restraint.

            At this juncture the obvious question often posed is what actually gets given up to ensure this self-infliction is sufficiently felt? The answer: all form of drugs.

            Allow me to proffer some detail before your imagination betrays my remaining words. First and foremost, I use a stricter definition of ‘drug’ than the colloquial – specifically, any substance that elicits a psychoactive effect. This starts with caffeine, the most widely used and abused drug anywhere in the world. Not being a coffee drinker I’ll never be counted amongst this group of addicts, but I do consume tea and over time have indulged in it more plentifully. It’s with shame I admit that this is often for the pep it offers rather than sole enjoyment of its flavour profile. By virtue of their caffeine content, pop drinks like Coca-Cola are prohibited too.

The inclusion of alcohol is straightforward, for its categorization as a drug can also not be disputed. It needs little effort to forfeit, for my everyday distrust of the vile poison is eclipsed only by astonishment at how poorly most people understand its addictive properties and ability to kill brain cells.

Presumably the boundaries for this annual examination of self-control are now clear, but of course they also cover cannabis (a much harder sacrifice, given my professional vocation and use as a relaxation instrument, as peers might do with a beer) and psychedelics (which have played a critical role in forming my worldview, though unfortunately I do not have the opportunity to mentally floss with them now as often as I would like).

It is not lost on me that the use of a religious template to abstain from mind alteration represents a fundamental colour clash of values. Thankfully, I’ve found the colours are mixable and once the sociocultural protest subsides they produce a rewarding hue that mirrors the sense of accomplishment back at one’s self. I’ve no doubt that if Jesus was to swing by he’d be proud – and if he did so in the other 320-odd days of the year, we’d enjoy a good cup of Earl Grey with some nicely rolled cannabis, and he could tell me what it’s like to keep saying no to the devil.