Reflections from Ash Wednesday: quick to the fast, slow to the pride

February 23, 2012

I have both a(n in)famously effective metabolism and an incredible love of food.  (It’s the Filipino in me, probably.)  This means that I like to eat, eat well, and eat pretty much constantly; the director of my study abroad program has already learned to bring my table second and third plates of food during lunch and dinner.

This is how I look like when I don't get food every 45 minutes.

I think that’s why the idea of fasting on Ash Wednesday has always been tough for me (even with the Church’s allowance for 1 full meal and 2 half-meals in the day).  And to be honest, yesterday was the first day in which I took fasting seriously.  Growing up, I remember being in awe at my dad, who consumed nothing but orange juice and water on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.  For my part, even when I had turned 18, I said to fasting, “Umm, I’ll have my hearty meal of fish, thank you very much.”

But yesterday, as I passed on breakfast and snacks, partook in a paltry lunch, and refrained from an overly filling dinner, I realized two things about fasting on Ash Wednesday.

First, it’s great preparation for Easter.  Fasting and giving something up for Lent is not necessarily about mortifying the flesh.  It’s about remembering the important things in life.  We make ourselves live without what we like and sometimes even without what we need because we know that all we really need — and what will truly satisfy us — is union with Christ.  Yes, we sacrifice to emulate Christ’s own example of sacrifice; yes we sacrifice in repentance for our sins.  But we also sacrifice because it helps us overcome the distractions in our lives, so we can fully receive Christ at Easter more willingly and appreciatively.

Second, fasting (and sacrificing during Lent in general) is a remarkably humbling experience.  Now, before, I always made a point not to talk about or show off what I was sacrificing: I’m wary of comparing my sacrifices to the sacrifices of others and of falling into petty pride, and, after all, “your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”  But what I realized yesterday is that sometimes, it can be good to talk about your sacrifices (and their accompanying struggles), because it offers the opportunity for fellow Christians to support each other.  So often yesterday, I let slip to my fellow Catholics how hungry I was and how much I wanted meat; they proceeded to strengthen my will and keep me accountable throughout the day.  It was enormously humbling to see all of us struggle with the fast together.

Fasting isn’t about proving yourself as “the holiest” amongst your peers.  Rather, fasting helps you realize that you are part of a worldwide community of believers, all of whom, in some way or another, are fasting and sacrificing alongside you in preparation for Easter.  So, with Ash Wednesday over and with Good Friday coming soon, let’s pray to be humble yet firm in our Lenten fasts and sacrifices.

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Venice, 1571: When Merchants become Soldiers

February 14, 2012

Think about Venice, and some of the first images that come to mind are those of enterprising merchants, romantic gondoliers, and masked partiers.  (I saw a lot of masked partiers, at least, at Carnevale di Venezia last weekend!)

But did you know that the Venetians can also properly be known as saviors of Catholic Europe?

In 1571 — in the wake of the Protestant Reformation — Europe was in shatters. Protestant-Catholic infighting was tearing apart France and Austria.  Britain had established a new church revolving around the Queen, thereby effectively withdrawing from Christendom.  Spain, the last great Catholic country, was more interested in gold and silver in her colonies in the New World than in aiding her Catholic allies.

The Ottoman Turks knew this.  Christian Europe was divided, but the Middle East, Asia Minor, and North Africa were united under Islamic rule.  Already the Ottomans were encroaching upon Austrian lands, and they had their eyes set upon ruling the Mediterranean with their superior navy.  It appeared that Europe — let alone Venice — could not possibly stand in their way.

Venice, that famed island city of capitalistic merchants, had always been more interested in money than war.  The Venetians had ignored the Pope’s calls for Crusade in previous centuries; the Muslims were customers of the Venetians, after all — “infidels” to be sure, but infidels with a pretty penny can make attractive clients.

But when the Ottomans seized Venice’s territory of Cyprus — massacring the garrison at Famagusta after it had surrendered in the process — the Venetian merchants finally shelved the abacus to strap on the armor and answered Pope Pius V’s call to form a Holy League in defense of Europe.  On October 7, 1571, 60,000 Venetian, Spanish, Maltese, Genoan, and Tuscan Catholics — rosaries in hand — clashed with 80,000 Ottoman Turks and Janissaries.  The point of conflict was a small bay in Greece called Lepanto.

Venice, the “new guys” as far as Catholic European coalitions go, still distinguished herself as a leader in battle.  It was a Venetian – Agostini Barbarigo – who commanded the Catholic left, and though he was killed by an arrow through the eye when he lifted his visor to issue orders, he had helped to ensure a smashing victory for the left wing of the Catholic navy.  It was the Venetian flags of St. Mark’s Lion that led the charge.

By late afternoon, the Christians, vastly outnumbered, lost 50 ships and 7500 men but freed about as many Christian prisoners.  The Ottomans, in a massive rout, suffered nearly 20,000 casualties and lost 210 ships.  When the Catholic navy’s ships docked at Venice — with Turkish flags trailing in the waters behind them — Europe was in celebration, and Pope Pius V would later declare October 7 the feast day of Our Lady of Victory, later to become Our Lady of the Rosary.

None of that could have happened if those Venetian merchants, gondoliers, and masked partiers had not put aside the distractions of their daily lives to answer the call to become soldiers for Christendom.

Today, we find ourselves in a spiritual battle, as Christendom ever finds itself under assault.  Christians continue to be persecuted by the Communist Party in China, while the rest of the world (outrageously) remains silent.  The media aims to discredit the Church’s authority through misguided and overblown scrutiny.  And in America, in the name of “freedom” and “justice,” the gift of marriage and the lives of the unborn continue to be ravaged by a confused generation.

Before he died, Pope John Paul II said that we were entering a new era of spiritual battle, when the forces of Satan would be stronger than ever.  This could be the last battle, or it could not be.  But as with any spiritual battle, we need fighting Catholics — Catholics willing to be soldiers for Christ in the way they live their daily lives.  The Venetians did it and succeeded.  If we pray and look to their example, so can we.

N.B.:  heavily relied on HW Crocker III’s account of the Battle of Lepanto for this blog post.  I recommend you read it, too, if you’re looking for a thrilling and inspiring read.