Sweating It Out

by Jean Marie Moffa
April 4, 2006

I was raised Catholic. Despite the fact that my formative years in the Church were after Vatican II, things in our house hummed along more or less as if the 20th century changes to Church practices never really mattered. Guilt (after receiving the beautiful little manger and baby Jesus from my CCD teacher, we were given a bag of straw, and instructed not only to put a piece under Jesus each time we did a good deed, but to remove a piece each time we sinned) and fear (a memorable--and not infrequent--sudden Saturday announcement from my father: "Get in the car, kids. We're going to confession." My heart misses a beat even recalling it.) were part and parcel of being faithful. Come Lent, add misery.

My memories of Lent are bleak, indeed. Cold, gray, dreary, with plenty of suffering. Whoever was the most miserable (with appropriate resolve and reserve, of course) won. And yes, we gave up things that were dear, in order to be miserable--television, snacks, chocolate.... As a kid, I'm not sure that I ever really got it. Not sure I ever really understood why--but I keenly felt the pain, and figured that this pain, in and of itself, would make me more holy. Suffering was holy, after all, right?

Many years have passed since those formative Catholic years. And many of those years I've been away from the Church, denying God, feeling angry, not accepting the rituals of Catholicism... But growing up has a way with us. In things spiritual, I'd have to say it's more like growing inward, and then growing outward. Be it the wonder of love or the miracle of birthing children, be it seeing the world and life with more years' experience, growing up (or in, or out), or coming to terms with the deep and undeniable imprint of a Catholic tradition... here I am (with hurdles and questions all along the way) a practicing Catholic, smack in the middle of Lent.

Over a Mardi Gras dinner with our neighbors (devout and practicing Catholics) the unavoidable question arose: "What are you giving up for Lent?" It occurred to me that rather than give something up in order to embrace my spiritual journey, I'd rather bring something on, challenge myself with something that is all too easily avoided.

So, for me, this Lenten season, it's been 5 days of exercise a week. Yes, exercise. Outside of swim team each summer when I was a kid, I've never moved my body--and pushed it to move stronger--so consistently. Five weeks in, and here's where I'm at:

- The first thing I do in the morning is put on work out clothes. No longer wrestling with the question "Will I work out today?", I've moved on to "How will I work out today?"

- I am feeling stronger and more flexible. I am taking on daily challenges to push harder. I am facing workout situations that previously I'd always feared or found intimidating. I'm smiling when my workouts are over, feeling a high that for so many years I'd only read about. I'm getting it.

- If my body's happiness weren't enough, my mental and emotional balance are more consistently regulated. The highs and lows remain--but the lows are losing ground, in intensity and frequency.

- With more highs than lows, there's now more time for some critically important stuff: contentedness and thankfulness. And with these things, ultimately, comes a clear and keen invitation to contemplate the divine.

This year, I'm sweating out Lent, alright. Not because of all the agony and misery of self-denial, but because I've discovered that in learning how to sweat, I am learning how to grow--stronger, healthier, happier, and yes, further along my spiritual path.