Lent, the pope and SoSus

As of tomorrow I'll be observing lent, which I've written about before but still the reasons behind my choices of what to "sacrifice" change every year, or seem to come from different directions as I get older.

But first I want to comment on the fact that Pope Benedict XVI is resigning.

Being a bit of a TV and newspaper recluse, I tend to find out about current affairs through friends' Facebook comments (*blush*). This time the news reached me through a friend who works with PR and publicism (if that's a word?) who thought the whole thing was a big yawn and that the media were making a big deal of an old guy retiring. However, a pope retiring voluntarily has been unheard of since the late 1200s, and the reason is (to a large degree) that in the catholic tradition, any priest or clergyman is considered to be 'called' to serve, rather than doing so by choice. However 'romantic' (or less appealing adjectives) this may sound to people of other persuasions, it's a viewpoint of many serving clergymen that their vocation is not their choice, but God's call - which they cannot refuse. Therefore, some catholics have reacted to the pope's announcement with bewilderment, and I think that Mussolini's granddaughter (who apparently gets to say stuff in italian media) even accused him of abandoning his flock.

As for my own opinion - I have great respect for anyone who honours their limitations, pope or not. In my mind it's wise and commendable to step down from a position of global leadership if you are aware that your mental and physical strength do not allow you to (refuting the to-the-death hardlinership I might have expected from this pope, seeing as he was known as "God's rottweiler"). Though the main objective of many a religion is to salvage souls for the afterlife, I'm personally convinced that as long as we are alive we cannot prematurely separate the soul from the body and still claim to be honouring the gift of life. So I consider listening to what the body tells us an act of respect and faith in itself, because physical pain hurts our souls too.

Hence, I feel that this turn of events is colouring my resolve this year. I believe that it's possible to respond to this change in the higherarchies of the church with hope, respect and compassion. Plus, I'm kinda rooting for a more progressive pope (as far as that's possible, given the selection that pope Benedict elected :/), and I'm all for greater representation of the perspective of those large, poor nations where catholicism seems to be an important part of people's lives. I'm sure a pope with that background can potentially be a better steward of faith in what the current pope described as "today’s world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith". 

I don't keep it a secret that I'm a struggling/conflicted catholic, having been brought up in a society and country that largely doesn't care for the limitations the church imposes - I'm in clinch with a lot of what the church says about who to love and how - anyone who asks me will find that I'm pro-contraception and pro-LGBT rights, for example. Still, what many of my sceptical countrymen miss out on is that I get a lot of strength and courage from caring about my spiritual sides, and live out a lot of my faith in the form of 1) feeling gratitude, and 2) trying my darndest not to judge others. Still, that last point is difficult if you want to appear to have any values of your own, and deciding what you think is right is not easy.

At the same time, being/acting catholic is my "dialect" of faith, as I like to call it. It is my accustomed language and pathway to look beyond myself, my life events, my pain or creature comforts and perceive a bigger picture that includes hope, gratitude, mercy, gifts I can't claim to deserve, challenges I don't think I deserve either (but often end up growing from), and the merciful concept of not actually having to have all the answers or understand everything, but in some cases, to just trust. To surrender. To embrace an opposite to certainty that is not doubt (to paraphrase Anne Lamott). Having had a language for spiritual matters has legitimized their importance in my life - there's a lot of truth to the saying that when someone or something is denied a name, their dignity ceases to exist.
I'm of the opinion that any dialect of faith is meaningful, as long as we can practice in mutual respect and not demand to change each other. (Easier said than done, I'm sure, but it's a grace that respectful humans are perfectly capable of.)

What this means for my choices in observing lent is that I notice a decreasing need to 'prove' myself' or appear like my discipline is stellar, or that I should 'sacrifice' something because it would be tautologically good for me - all of those reasons may have been driving forces for me at some point, but the showiness of them kind of loses their appeal when you spend year after year practicing this and always re-evaluating your reasons. But this year, I've actually chosen two things that haven't been a problem or a great vice of mine before, but I've recently come to notice that I take them for granted and have become increasingly careless about how I handle them. One is alcohol.
I rarely drink unless I'm with friends, but when I do, I do, and I'm usually the one mixing drinks for an unreasonable proportion of the evening. And while it rarely gets out of hand, I do notice that I end up physically affected (i.e. can't walk straight) without realizing when the line was crossed. Another thing, which is almost embarrassingly juvenile considering that I'm 32, is that I say F* a lot. Not more than the next guy buy still, even while I say it I know it sounds awful and is entirely unnecessary (generally the spice it adds is... totally not worth it), but I find myself saying it more often because a) swedes throw it in casually into their swedish as a joke because nobody takes it seriously, and b) we have more native english-speakers at my department now and they seem to conjure up my foulest vocabulary. Although I shouldn't blame others, so Fine, I'm dirty-two ;).

So those two have to go, in my mind. But what does all of this have to do with SoSus?

Well, coincidentally, today I had my yearly development meeting with my boss (where we discuss my current activities and goals for the year, with measurables). One of the things we discussed was why I was so overworked and sleep very little (which is ironic considering that I'm supposed to be working with social sustainability and healthy work practices, d'Oh!). I jokingly made a reference to the fact that I routinely work nights at least twice a week (meaning at least an extra 4-hour cram between 10 pm - 2 am)- my boss didn't think it funny. He issued as a challenge (or rather, a measureable goal) that I should entirely stop working nights, by this Thursday.

While it's not a lenten practice, it strikes me that this challenge kind of falls entirely in line with my other 'sacrifices' - I've been careless. We even discussed this to the point where I said that I'd been living with this bad habit as a kind of safety net / noose - because as long as I've gotten by on routine night work, I've been convincing myself that this only affects me and nobody else since I'm single, and hence I've locked myself in a bad catch 22. I would trust that no matter how late I start, I would get it done and any sleep-related repercussions would be my own problem (and probably well-deserved, too). However, this often meant that I would also postpone starting until the night shift was a fact. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy, even if I really did have time to do it earlier.

Today I finally got a gentle reminder that this doesn't affect only me - I'm responsible for sending out signals of what it means to work committedly but in a healthy way. I'd be setting an impossible precedent for my PhD students and undergrads if I keep telling them it's important to spare yourself and your body, while at the same time not honouring my body's and mind's fatigue limits and hence creating a version of myself that wavers between focus and zoning out. (I have reason to blush...)

I feel that my practicing lent this year is appropriately coloured by the combination of current events and personal wake-up calls, and is an opportunity for sustaining what I believe in and putting in the practice, even if I'm often conflicted about it. To caring. (And honestly, I think that may be one of my best reasons to date.)