Forced March: Your Lenten Packing Guide

Several years ago, I was privileged to go backpacking for a five-day trip in Northern Minnesota with three good friends of mine, but by day four we were in trouble.

I had known all three of them well for years: a married couple and the wife’s brother. The four of us had been crushing miles of the Superior Hiking Trail, but by day four it became clear that the wife would be unable to keep going; a mixture of health conditions and exhaustion meant that there was no way she would be able to handle day five…

And that was going to be problematic. We had dropped a car at the end of the hike, which was over eleven miles away from the campsite we stumbled into on the night of day four. Short of calling someone from all the way in the Cities to come pick us up, our only option was to finish the hike and make it to the car. Needless to say, as we sat around in silence as night fell on that fourth night, we had no idea what tomorrow would bring. All the joy and adventure of the previous few days seemed eclipsed by this growing crisis.

The following morning, the husband and I woke up early after not really sleeping that night and made some very necessary coffee so that we could workshop the problem. As we poured the coffee and pored over the maps, a potential solution presented itself. It involved leaving both her and most of our gear at a nearby trail crossing that intersected with a road accessible by car and hightailing it to the car over some difficult terrain.

She immediately agreed to the (harebrained) scheme, and so we broke camp, hobbled the short distance to the trail crossing, and found a place to set up the hammock so that she could rest. The three of us (myself, the husband, and the wife’s brother) then had some interesting choices to make: how much gear could we get away with dropping there, and how much would we need for the trail? Every extra pound of gear would slow us down for the mad dash to the end of the trail, but we did not want to get caught in a situation where we desperately needed a piece of gear that we had chosen to do without…

We chose to drop the tents because we were going to finish the hike before the sun set, come hell or high water. We dropped the emergency food, the fire-making supplies, the rain gear, extra clothes, cooking supplies, toiletries, the trail maps of the places we had already been…even the bear spray (we didn’t want her to be without it). The three of us were down to basically the clothes on our backs and food and water for two meals. We left her with one of the cell phones and hit the trail.

Despite the exhaustion from four straight days of backpacking across the rugged terrain, the much-lighter packs and the urgency of the situation had us almost jogging the trail. Aside from a run-in with a snake and getting scraped up on some rocks, the mad dash to the car was fairly uneventful. We threw the now-empty backpacks in the trunk and raced off to go pick her up. The four of us drove into Duluth, had a great meal at a bar and grill in town, and hobbled back down to the Cities, exhausted and grateful that the harebrained scheme had worked and that no one was seriously injured.

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I think about this story every time we enter a penitential season in the liturgical year. That difficult decision we faced on the trail (of what gear to keep for the swift and - at times - desperate journey ahead) always changes the conversation on the classic “what are you giving up for Lent?” question. Rather than starting with all of the things that I would like to have in my life and then reluctantly acknowledging that not all of them are necessary, it’s a different discussion entirely when I say: everything in my life that is not of the Lord is only going to slow me down in the journey ahead. We start with nothing and add only what we need.

As Catholics, we believe that all creation is created by God and is therefore good (Gen 1:31). However, St. Ignatius of Loyola, in his “first principle” of the Spiritual Exercises, helps us to put that in the perspective of the spiritual life:

God created human beings to praise, reverence, and serve God, and by doing this, to save their souls.

God created all other things on the face of the earth to help fulfill this purpose. From this it follows that we are to use the things of this world only to the extent that they help us to this end, and we ought to rid ourselves of the things of this world to the extent that they get in the way of this end.

That, I submit, is what penitential seasons like Lent can really help us do: see all things against the horizon of the salvation of our souls. We pack only the gear that is going to help us on the journey ahead, and we drop the things that will slow us down. These things might be very enjoyable and at an earlier point necessary, but the time has come to seriously consider dropping them. We no longer needed the tents because we were going to force march until the end; what are the things that you can drop?

With all that in mind, I can’t tell you what you should “do” for Lent, because it will be different for every person. That is a conversation that you must have with the Lord. Instead, I want to offer you some of the best guidance and advice that I’ve received over the years to get a much better “packing list” for Lent (and for life).

Your Lenten Packing Guide

• None of this is about “muscular Christianity” or “Christian activism.” You’re not here to get some sort of trophy for choosing a radical penance. Rather, this is about discerning what things are helpful and what things are a hindrance as you hike with the Lord through this time. Listen to Him in silence and in prayer to learn what He is inviting you into.
• It’s much better to actually just radically choose the penances already present in your life rather than adding other things. We all have a unique capacity for avoiding difficult people or escaping uncomfortable moments. Ask the Lord: what are the situations that He is inviting you to choose to be present in, rather than avoid?
• Your Lenten mortifications and penances should make other people’s lives easier, not more difficult. If you give up caffeine and then proceed to bite everyone’s heads off first thing in the morning because you’re thrown for a loop, you’re doing something wrong.
• Silence can go a long way in your relationship with the Lord: what are the sources of excess noise in your life? Too much music? Podcasts? News? The weight of all that noise can crush you.
• Again (in case you weren’t listening), no “muscular Christianity.” You have to be realistic and choose something that might be challenging but not impossible. If you find yourself “white-knuckling,” you’re doing something wrong.
• There are traditionally three areas of Lenten mortification: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. A great starting point is to pick one thing from each of these three to do well, rather than a bunch of things that you’re going to do poorly. (Bishop Barron has a great video on this)
• Speaking of almsgiving, this seems to be the one that usually falls by the wayside for people when it comes to Lent. In Matthew 25, Christ speaks particularly harshly against those who neglect the poor. Read and pray with that passage, and then read Happy are You Poor by Thomas Dubay. If you are reading this, you most likely have some form of income or savings. Find a way to use that for the service of the poor and the building of the Kingdom.
• Join a parish (if you haven’t already), and join in some of the Lenten liturgies as you are able (Stations of the Cross is a great place to start). If you’re looking for a sign to join a parish, this is it.
• During this year of St. Joseph, consider taking time to reflect on how the Terror of Demons lived humbly and in service to Jesus and Mary. You can also do the consecration to St. Joseph for a more structured reflection.
• (Bonus COVID addition) I don’t know about all of you, but I personally find wearing masks to be a bit uncomfortable and annoying (especially since I wear glasses). Rather than letting yourself complain every time you put one on, instead say a prayer for those who are suffering, especially those impacted by this pandemic.
• (One last time for good measure): you can’t “earn spiritual points” by muscular Christianity. Holiness isn’t about all the stuff you do. It’s about letting the Lord be with you, the One who is Holy, and letting Him transform you.

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I hope that this has served as a good primer for this Lent. May the Lord continue to draw each one of you to Himself, and by the ashes we receive let us remember that our creatureliness is an invitation to rely even more on the Creator. Pack light, my dear friends in Christ, because we have a bit of a hike ahead of us.
 

Nicholas Vance is a seminarian studying for the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis. A West St. Paul native, he came back to the Faith his freshman year of college, and became involved with Saint Paul’s Outreach and the Catholic Studies community. He graduated from the University of St. Thomas in 2018 with degrees in Communications & Journalism and Catholic Studies. A rueful marathoner, a Röpke-Wojtyła Fellow with the Catholic University of America, and a once-upon-a-time youth minister, he loves hiking, reading, playing music, and the delightful first sip of coffee in the morning. He proudly calls Transfiguration in Oakdale (“the rockin’ East Side”) his home parish, and is in seminary formation at the Saint Paul Seminary.