As we approach the end of a week of religious observances, I am going to admit and advise in advance that I am about to commit what may be considered sacrilege in more than one religion. If you don't want to be a witness, please click off this page now. Otherwise, you have been warned.
I was seated in a three-hour Good Friday service yesterday, which was quite moving. I wasn't consciously thinking about anything else, but I have noticed that my inspirations often come when I am not thinking. The word "inspire" derives from ancient Greek words that mean "to breathe in." That's how inspirations happen for me. One minute nothing; the next something I hadn't thought about before is just there, as if it floated in on the last breath I took. So it is that about two hours into the service, there was an inspiration.
The sacrilege to which I've admitted is in moving away from the literal interpretation of religious stories and into the metaphorical. What does the Seder story mean to me? What does the crucifixion story mean to me? What do I do today because of these lessons? Then there is also the concept of God as Source within us, connecting us with all that is, as opposed to God as an anthropomorphic Being external to us. I lean to the former concept, which is why I treat inspirations as a message from God to me.
The Seder story is one of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. That is accomplished because they listened to what God said to them and followed his guidance out of their imprisonment.
The crucifixion story is one that we are imprisoned by our sins and that by his death on the cross, Jesus is liberating us from imprisonment by out sins. Sins are often considered as arbitrary lists of "rights" and "wrongs." It is a sin to kill or steal or commit adultery. I am interested in "sin" as an archery term which says we missed the bull's-eye or fell short in being what we know we could be and need to change our aim--take steps to be where we want to be.
The question that has always troubled me is what it means to be freed of our sins. Does Jesus' death free us of killing 100,000 people or does it free us if we kill one, have remorse, and aim our lives in a different direction? After all, Jesus did say that his followers would be known by their actions, which would imply that they wouldn't willy-nilly be killing people just because they thought they had a free pass. And, what about soldiers at war who killed people to stop someone like Hitler who might kill even more?
However, since I don't think I've ever been even inadvertently responsible for a death and hope never to be, how many people I can safely kill does not keep me awake at night. What has troubled me increasingly in recent days is how I free myself from a self-imposed prison. Tomorrow Lent will end. I guess technically we could say that it ends after sunset tonight, when the Jews usually mark the beginning of holy days, or is it after sunrise tomorrow, when Jesus was supposedly liberated from the tomb?
After almost 40 days without sugar, its derivative alcohol, and artificial sweeteners, I am certain that most of the time (except for these 40 days each year,) I live in a prison constructed by sweet stuff. I have been pretty good about keeping Lent. In the first few days, I did discover I'd unintentionally slipped before I started reading labels. Who knew that peanut butter, Santé Fe tortilla strips, and mayonnaise all contain sugar? I discovered that when I found myself craving peanut butter after I'd eliminated more obvious sources of sweets from my diet.
I do this each year. Will I or won't I add sugar back? One year I abstained until December when I was bombarded by sugary treats. I know that even a bite or a single glass of wine is a slippery slope back into my addiction. Without it, I feel better, I am more energetic, and I am six pounds lighter, meaning that I am now back into most of the pants that I haven't gotten into since Thanksgiving.
But yesterday in church, when I realized that sugar had imprisoned me, this question was contexted differently. I felt as if God were speaking directly to me as He/She had the enslaved Jews in Egypt. I know what I need to do to find freedom, all I have to do is follow what I know I am to do. When I wrote about the Jews following God's direction out of slavery earlier in the week, to just follow seemed a much easier choice. In the Christian context, am I freed from my sin of sugar once or 100,000 times? Should people be able to tell by watching my behaviors that I am not following the Sugar God rather than one who promised freedom?
I wish I could say I will walk away from it. I tell myself that it would be easier if I were an alcoholic or a drug addict where my behaviors would have more destructive consequences, but would it? I am sure the alcoholics and drug addicts would say it is the same. Even as I've been writing this, I received a text from a friend, asking me if I was going to have wine at a social function we plan to attend together. I had to respond that I didn't really know. I don't. I hate that about me, but it is true. I wish I could walk away from it, but I don't know that.
I want to be known as a woman of integrity, and for me my relationship with sugar deeply impedes my integrity. I am a conflicted woman with sugar in my body. Yet I know that when we wrestle with personal demons, they are always with us. Yet I cannot not know what I know: sugar is a prison for me. Somehow framing the issue as ones of integrity or walking into freedom makes the decision easier--easier, not easy. Now I know. I will not partake...today. This is definitely a one-day-at-time venture: all I have to do is stay true to myself for one day...and then another...and another.
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