It sounds like a joke. And it may be funny. But it’s no joke.
The way most Baptists in my generation grew up, if someone said something about Lent, we glanced to see if there was fuzz on our coats. If the person tried to explain about the pre-Easter observance, our mental ears would shut down and our eyes would glaze over. That’s Catholic stuff. I don’t need that.
A pious Baptist woman who wore jewelry would never wear a pendant cross to church. Likewise, her husband wouldn’t think of putting a cross pin in the slot on his lapel -- even though they heartily sang, “I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it some day for a crown.”
Take a look at the spires on Baptist church buildings. You’re more likely to see a weather vane than a cross.
It was all part of shared disregard and disrespect between Baptists and Catholics. We looked down on them, and they looked down on us. Each denomination considered “those other people” to be poor damned sinners.
Lent. Crosses. Ash Wednesday. Advent. We rejected it all because “they” did it. As for Lent, If you could give up something for forty days, why couldn’t you just stop completely?
A slight thaw between Protestants and Catholics began in 1962 when Pope John XXIII convened what became known as Vatican II or the Second Vatican Council. Because he died the next year, this pope did not live to see much of what he envisioned. But two conspicuous changes are attributed to his papacy.
To Protestants, the most obvious change was in conducting the Mass in the language of the people of a given nation rather than requiring that it be in Latin. There was also a more generous attitude toward Protestants, a willingness for dialogue between the groups. When this spirit became apparent, “our side” responded in kind. Both “sides” started seeing each other in a different light.
Successors to John XXIII have not been as open toward other Christians. Some have taken deliberate steps to squelch the spirit he advocated. But once the window was opened, fresh air has continued to blow, despite official efforts to retrench.
We have begun to see merits in many things Catholics have practiced for hundreds of years, including some aspects of Lent.
Uninformed Baptists often commit the faux pas of confidentially calling attention to a dirty smudge on a friend’s forehead, only to have friend explain he or she has been to Ash Wednesday service to begin observing Lent.
I confess I have not entered full tilt into Lent. I acknowledge my need for periodic solemn review of my commitment to Christ, perhaps not unlike the traditional revival meeting churches of my youth conducted twice a year.
In my stereotype, Lent is still mainly as a time for giving up something, although some fresh Lenten breezes include positive actions to combat the negative emphasis.
My one Ash Wednesday experience was quite positive. A few years ago, my wife Pansy and I were in downtown Savannah, Georgia, at noon on a Wednesday. We saw people going into a Lutheran church, and an usher at the outside door invited us in. We went in and entered heartily into the service. We went forward to receive communion, we also received the ashes -- which some evangelical extremists might consider the Mark of the Beast. When the pastor touched my forehead and declared, “Ashes to ashes, dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return,” it spoke to me of my own mortality in a way I still remember.
Christians can learn much from Christians across denominational lines.
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