On Sunday, the bare branches that have decorated Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church since Ash Wednesday were bristling with green buds.
“Have you noticed the trees?” the Rev. John Kerns began his homily on the second Sunday of Lent. “They are bursting with life.” The leaves had been there, on the inside, all along, he said. “What was hidden will be revealed.”
Catholics and some Protestants have long considered Lent, a period of 40 days leading up to Easter, as a time of transformation and
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On Sunday, the bare branches that have decorated Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church since Ash Wednesday were bristling with green buds.
“Have you noticed the trees?” the Rev. John Kerns began his homily on the second Sunday of Lent. “They are bursting with life.” The leaves had been there, on the inside, all along, he said. “What was hidden will be revealed.”
Catholics and some Protestants have long considered Lent, a period of 40 days leading up to Easter, as a time of transformation and renewal. Historically, Lent was a period of penance, prayer, self-denial and charity. Giving up meat, eggs and dairy products was customary in the season’s early centuries.
In the modern era, Christians give up chocolate, desserts or alcohol. Some commit to breaking a bad habit or adopting a new one. And people still find ways of giving their time and money to others in need.
Sophia Hamstreet, 11, of Portland says she gave up candy last year.
“This year, I had a new idea,” she says. “I’m trying to pick up my dirty clothes.” So far, she adds, it’s going well.
Her brother, Alexander, 11, has given up “whining at the dinner table.”
“I was getting kind of tired of it,” he admits. “It’s time to stop.”
His dad, Clyde, has given up playing solitaire on his cell phone. Instead he tries to read either the newspaper or a book.
“It’s become too much of a habit,” he says of solitaire. He’s avoiding it even on Sundays, which technically are not days of Lent. He’s not sure whether he’ll play again when Lent runs out next month.
Kristy Hanna-Barofsky of Lake Oswego is trying to introduce her three children to the concept of Lent. Her oldest, Isabella, 7, eats hot lunch at school once a week, for example. During Lent, her mother suggested they give the money spent for her weekly hot lunch to charity.
“But you’ll still pack me a lunch?” Isabella asked her mom.
Carla Worthington of Lake Oswego, who tended the coffee and doughnut table with her daughter, Cayte, 8, says she’s trying to read the Bible more regularly. A devotional book helps her, pairing biblical passages with modern stories and suggesting reflection questions.
Worthington suspects her good intentions will eventually dissolve in her hectic life once Lent is over. “But I try,” she says earnestly.
At St. Andrew Lutheran Church in Beaverton, the Lenten emphasis is on adding something to individual lives of faith.
Pat Christiansen of Beaverton, who teaches science at Valley Catholic School, has been taking a morning walk and reflecting on gratitude as her Lenten practice. She hopes that both forms of exercise will benefit her, body and soul.
Kaytee and Garrett Johnston of Tigard, parents of toddler Rhett, have joined a gym and committed to working out regularly. They’re familiar with the idea of giving up something they like — they’ve had no fast food since New Year’s Day — and for Lent they wanted to add something to their lives.
“I’ve already lost five pounds,” Kaytee Johnston says proudly. The parallels between penance and treadmills, ridding oneself of sin and fat, are not lost on the Johnstons.
Donna Brocker, whose husband, Mark, is pastor of St. Andrew’s, begins each day writing a card or letter to someone in need. Her goal is to send out 10 notes a week to “people who are hurting, who need to know that they are loved, people who have lost their spouses.”
“We are all the body of Christ,” she says. “We can’t see Jesus’ arms and hands, but other people can see ours.”