All About Lent, Part 1

Weekly Notes

Before I dive into today’s newsletter, I wanted to share that if you’re contemplating buying any of my children’s books for Easter Baskets, First Communions, or First Confessions (or really if you’re contemplating buying any of my books at all), you can buy signed copies directly from me for the next month. Whenever possible, it is a huge help to authors to buy directly from us, so I am really grateful to everyone who is willing to skip the convenience of Bezos’ warehouse and shop with me. Thank you.

Over the last two weeks, so many of you asked if I planned on doing a Lent themed Q&A in the newsletter, that I switched my plans and decided I would. I then posted a question box on Instagram earlier this week, thinking I would get a few questions I could tackle here. I was wrong.

I didn’t get a few. I got dozens and dozens and dozens—far more than I was expecting and way beyond what I can answer in any one—or four—newsletters. This has me thinking about a possible new project for next year. For now, though, I’ve divided the questions up and will tackle as many as I can in this newsletter and a second one coming out on Ash Wednesday. That second one will cover your questions about fasting and the particulars of penance. This one covers all the rest.

Both of these monster-sized newsletters will be free, like my Q&A’s always are. This is important information for every Christian—Catholic or non-Catholic—to have, so I want to make this as easy as possible for everyone to read and share. If these newsletters are helpful for you, though, I hope you will consider supporting my work by upgrading your subscription to paid (or buying my books directly from me).

Now, for your questions.

Question Box

Life has been incredibly hard for me these last months—a death in the family, job loss, secondary infertility, and so many miscarriages. I can’t understand how a loving God wants me to spend 40 days fasting on top of everything else I’m trying to process.

First, I am so sorry for all you’re going through. I don’t know why suffering follows suffering in such quick succession during some seasons. It is one of life’s greatest mysteries. And I will absolutely be praying for you.

Here’s what I do know, though. Lent is not an excuse for God to pile more crosses onto your already heavy heart. He’s not looking to add to your suffering over the next 40 days. This is not what Lent is about. This is not what God is about.

Rather, God is calling you to Himself. He wants to replace the heavy yoke on your shoulders with His own, much lighter, much easier yoke. Lent is part of how He does that. It’s a season in which He invites you to examine your heart and life, looking for the doors which perhaps you have shut against Him. God wants to help you identify these places. He wants you to see the wounds you won’t let Him touch, the lies you’ve believed, the areas of your life where you are consistently saying No to His grace, the idols you won’t surrender, or the people and things you try to rely on to do the saving, healing work that only He can do.

The reason for this is not so you feel worse about yourself. It’s so that together, you and He can start opening those doors and letting in the grace He wants to give you—the grace you need to carry your crosses well and grow in love through them.

Yes, Lent is a penitential season. But the purpose of the penance we do is not punishment; it’s reparation. That is, penance is meant to help repair the damage sin has done in our hearts and in our relationship with Christ. It’s like the spiritual equivalent of buying someone flowers after we’ve forgotten their birthday. We’re not just saying we’re sorry; we’re showing them we’re sorry by doing something to help rebuild what was broken.

During Lent, we do penance for ourselves—for the brokenness we’ve caused through our greed, pride, anger, vanity, selfishness, lust, envy, idolatry, and lack of trust, or through our failure to forgive, be generous, and treat others justly. We also can do penance for others, making small sacrifices to help repair the damage caused by someone else’s sin. Those acts become part of the treasury of the saints—like little deposits of love—that Christ can use to “complete what is lacking” in His own afflictions (Colossians 1:24). And yes, it seems ludicrous that anything could be lacking from Christ’s suffering. But that’s how He wanted it to be. He wants us to be His co-workers in the work of redemption (1 Corinthians 3:9). Lent is an amazing opportunity to take Him up on His offer.

In the end, though, it’s important to remember that the ultimate goal of our penance is not suffering. It’s glory. By God’s grace, penance draws us closer to Christ. It immerses us more fully in His gracious love. It heals our hearts so we can be united to Him more fully. In short, Lent is a season of loving preparation—for Easter and for Heaven. And that’s not something to be dreaded or resented. It’s a reason to rejoice and be glad. It’s all part of why we have such great hope that someday we will pass beyond this world of suffering into eternal joy.

Right now, I get why that can be hard for you to see. You have so much on your plate. This is probably not the season for intense fasts and penances. And the good news is, God is not demanding you do those. Assuming you’re a Latin Rite Catholic (and not an Eastern Rite Catholic), between the ages of 18 and 59 who is physically capable of fasting, all you have to do is limit your consumption of food on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday to one meal and two snacks. You also have to abstain from meat on those days and every Friday in Lent. That’s it. That’s what is required. The rest—some form of fasting, prayer, almsgiving—is requested. But it’s up to you to discern how to best answer that request in this season of your life.

Maybe, the penance to which God is calling you this Lent is simply growing in your understanding of suffering. Maybe He is inviting you to sit with Him for 10 minutes each morning or 30 minutes on a Saturday or in some other margin of your life and contemplate the cross with Him. John Paul II wrote a beautiful encyclical on suffering called Salvifici Doloris that could help you with that. I wrote a study guide for Endow on that encyclical if you’re looking for something to walk you through that encyclical. You could also read the Book of Job or a book like Peter Kreeft’s Making Sense Out of Suffering.

Or maybe what God wants is a sacrifice of praise from you. You could pray one psalm each day or take two minutes each night to make a list of all the good that did come your way during the day. Just write down every good thing—coffee, sun, early spring flowers, a kind word from a stranger—and say the Te Deum over that list at the end of the day. I have done this during some of the darkest moments of my life, and it has always helped me to feel much less alone in suffering. It’s helped me to see the loving God who was walking with me all the while..

Then again, perhaps God is asking you to give something up—something to which you go when grief and stress are overwhelming you, before you to Him. That can feel so hard in the moment. We all love our crutches and coping mechanisms. But in the end, it is the very best and most loving thing He could ask of you.

There are a lot of options. If you can, talk them over with a priest or friend who knows you better than I do. But please don’t think of Lent as a season that is demanding more suffering of you. It is a season that demands more of you—but not more pain, not more grief. Rather, it demands more of your heart. It demands more openness to grace. And it demands more vulnerability to God breaking your chains of self-reliance, so He can give you what you can’t give yourself.

I am praying for you.

I’ve heard priests say we’re supposed to “fail” at Lent. What’s your take on that?

I talked a lot about this in the Visitation Sessions episode we recorded last year about Lent. In short, no, we’re not supposed to fail at Lent. At least not in the sense that failing is something we should try to do. None of us should set out on Ash Wednesday with the goal of failing at Lent. But, when we do fail at it—which we will in some way—we shouldn’t be surprised.

We humans are not a people capable of saving ourselves. We need Christ. We need Him more desperately than any of us realize. And so, when a penance falls by the wayside, proves to be unrealistic, causes damage to us and others, or becomes a source of pride, shock should not be our first emotion. Nor should self-flagellation be our first response.

Instead, we should look to the cross—to the One who alone is capable of saving us and the world—and thank Him. Our failures in Lent are supposed to remind us of how much we need Him. They can help us see His greatness and our littleness. They can teach us who He is and who we are not, helping us grow in humility. That is a virtue we must have in order to let Him do the work in us He wants to do. Without humility, we never can receive all Christ wants to give us.

Again, failing is not the goal. Failing is not a good in and of itself. But what God can bring out of our failures can be good. It can be a tremendous blessing. That’s who God is. He is the One who brings goodness, beauty, and light out of sin, ugliness, and darkness. And if that’s all Lent teaches us year after year, then it’s always a good Lent.

How can I keep Lent from not turning into some kind of Catholic New Year’s Resolution situation, where the focus is solely on self-improvement?

Good question. Because it absolutely can be tempting to see Lent as a reboot of your New Year’s Resolutions, which it’s not. It is, again, a season of penance and preparation. It’s a time for us to make acts of reparation that draw us closer to Christ, so He can do far, far more than merely improve us.

To keep the focus where it needs to be—on what Jesus wants for us this Lent—it can help to remember that the penance to which we’re called in Lent is three-fold. It’s fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. New Year’s resolutions are all about self-improvement. They’re done by us and for us. Lenten penances, however, aren’t quite so exclusive. Almsgiving in particular calls us to look away from ourselves and to another—or many others—who need our help. We are called to give and give generously—lavishly even—during Lent. That giving does improve us. It makes us more like Christ. But self-improvement is not the primary focus of our giving. It’s helping another.

Prayer also calls us to look away from ourselves. It calls us to focus our eyes on Christ, to draw near to Him and be with Him and let Him work more intensively in our hearts. It’s not about us improving ourselves or remaking ourselves into what we think we should be. It’s about letting Him love us and continue His long slow work in us.

As for fasting, it’s always good to check our intent. If you’re fasting from food with the hopes of losing weight, you’re dieting, not doing penance. Weight loss should never be the goal of a Lenten fast. Instead, the goal should be offering reparation for your sins and encountering your own neediness and weakness in your hunger, so that you can lean more on Christ.

Something similar can be said about fasting from something that is intrinsically bad—like taking the Lord’s name in vain or binge drinking. Those are bad habits and you should break them, but not just for 40 days. You should break them forever. If you want use Lent to start breaking one bad habit, that’s certainly fine. But doing so can make it easier to veer into seeing Lent as mere self-improvement. If that’s a temptation for you, you should consider giving up something good as well, something you can enjoy on Lenten Sundays and throughout the rest of the year—like sweets or a glass of wine or listening to music in the car.

No matter what, though, pray. Discern what God is calling you to do this Lent. Maybe talk to a friend about it. If you’re married, definitely talk to your spouse. I’ve found that the people close to me often see my attachments or struggles in a different light than I do and give great advice about what practical, doable, and helpful penances for me might be. That might be the case for you as well. Regardless, keep it simple. Keep it humble. Don’t try to become a different person over the course of the next 40 odd days. Just do something humbly and faithfully for God. He will take care of the rest.

What has been the hardest sacrifice you’ve ever chosen for Lent?

This is a tricky question to answer because not a single one of my “hard” sacrifices have been fruitful sacrifices. They’ve all been stupid, foolish sacrifices, usually rooted in my pride or confusion about what Lent should be.

Take, for example, the year I tried to give up expressing my opinions. That was hard! So incredibly hard. I couldn’t go ten minutes without failing at that penance. But it was also incredibly foolish. First, because it’s impossible. Nobody can give up expressing opinions. At least not without giving up speech. You can’t have a conversation without opinions. Not even about the weather. Really, you can’t be human without opinions. And good penances should never require you to be less than human. They should always be practical and doable.

But that particular penance was also foolish because that penance was all about me. I thought I could will my way into being a gentler person, that all it would take was me making the equivalent of a vow of silence for Lent, and I could emerge transformed on the other side of Easter, with all my bull-in-a- china-shop tendencies gone forever.

But transformation doesn’t work that way. Grace doesn’t work that way. We can’t power our way to holiness. Nor can we transform ourselves through an act of the will into someone we’re not. After thirty years of walking closely and intentionally with Christ I am definitely gentler than I used to be. But I will always be an opinionated, redheaded choleric. In Heaven, I will be an opinionated, redheaded choleric—redeemed, perfected, but still me. That’s how God made me. And any gentleness I’ve acquired is not my doing. It’s a gift of grace, a gift that has slowly been given as God has drawn me closer to Him through prayer, suffering, study, the sacraments, and time in His presence.

I’m not a priest or a spiritual director, so take my advice with a grain of salt. But really, I don’t think it’s a good idea to consciously pick “hard” penances for Lent. At the very least, the difficulty of a penance should not be the primary qualifier or what attracts us to it. When we pick a penance because it seems hard, we make Lent about us. And our success or failure during Lent becomes rooted in our own egos.

Penance doesn’t have to be dramatic to be effective. And God doesn’t require big, grand gestures from us. He requires obedience to the penitential precepts laid out by the Church—obedience which in turn requires humility, because if it were up to us, many of us would do things differently (requiring more fasting or a different kind of fasting or more almsgiving, etc.).

Along with what God requires, there is also an invitation. He invites us to do more. But He doesn’t care about that “more” being super-duper hard. God isn’t inviting us to participate in the spiritual Olympics. He’s inviting us to draw close to Him through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Accordingly, what He cares about is that we pick something which actually does draw us closer to Him—that helps us to see the reality of our sin more clearly or understand the depths of our need for Him more profoundly or helps us lean on Him more routinely.

If that’s giving up chocolate, then giving up chocolate is a good penance. It will be hard in its own way (because you never fully realize how good chocolate is until you can no longer eat it), but it won’t be the kind of hard that makes you feel like you’re winning Lent. It’s not the kind of hard that comes with bragging rights. Rather, it’s the kind of hard that makes you realize what a little, weak struggling creature you are: one who can’t even give up chocolate without whining and complaining. Realizing that helps us be even more grateful for the love of an all-powerful, all knowing God, who died to redeem us. And it’s that kind of realization—not simply the penance itself—that makes Lent fruitful.

I’m inundated with Lenten ads for fasting programs, prayer challenges, retreats, etc. What do I do?

It can feel like a lot, can’t it? It overwhelms me, too. But I’m fortunate to have a husband, good friends, a school community, a neighborhood, a parish, and honestly, a town, where the vast majority of people I interact with are doing Lent alongside me. In my community, Lent is still both a spiritual practice and a cultural experience. And it being a cultural experience really matters.

As Catholics, we understand how critical community is in our salvation. It’s not just me and Jesus; it’s me and the whole Body of Christ—Triumphant, Suffering, and Militant. We’re all journeying together, with everyone helping each other or encouraging each other or leaning on each other. God has structured the mechanisms of our salvation and sanctification in such a way that we all need each other. All grace is from Him, but it passes to us through sacraments and saints and brothers and sisters. It passes to us through community.

The world has always been messed up. Original Sin is real. And its arms reach from the beginning of history to its end. But I do think, in days gone by, when the culture was more sincerely and universally Catholic, it was easier to pursue holiness—during the days of Lent and every other day—because you so clearly were not doing it alone. Structural, cultural supports were helping you make good choices and see the world with Catholic eyes. Not always. Not everywhere. But more so—for most people—than today.

Now, in most of the West, faithful, practicing Christians are the minority. The culture is not generally helping us pursue holiness. The culture doesn’t want us to have a good Lent. And so something of a cottage industry has sprung up, trying to recreate in miniature what the culture used to give us.

I can absolutely see where that is a help to people who don’t have a strong community walking with them through Lent. At the same time, this trend can be dangerous. The real point of Lent can get lost in the midst of all those challenges and programs. After all, nobody is going to shell out $49.95 for a Lenten challenge that says, “You’re probably going to fail at your penances, and you won’t see most of the good that comes from this Lent until the Last Judgement.” Who would buy that program??! People sign up for programs that promise them the “Best Lent Ever” and “A Transformed Prayer Life in Forty Days.” But no one other than Jesus can make those promises.

I’m not saying all programs are bad. I think some really good ones exist. And, again, I think programs in general can be a helpful substitute for the community many of us have lost. (Not a perfect replacement. But a helpful substitute). Nevertheless, the danger is still real, and the people running those programs probably need to market them with an extra dose of humility.

As for what program you should pick … that’s a question above my paygrade. If I were looking for one for myself, though, I would probably pick the simplest one I could find and one that was more circumspect about what it offers. More specifically, I would pick one that offers a person or community to walk with me through Lent and not some impossible to guarantee end result. Every person’s needs are different, so programs that help one person journey through Lent will not help everyone. But regardless of what type of program it is, I recommend sticking to the ones which acknowledge the complexity of life and the limits of any program. I also would probably not sign up for a large-scale program run by someone on the younger side of 40 (or maybe 35), who has no real theological or pastoral training. No offense to my younger friends. I just think you need decades of tough Lents under your belt (along with some actual knowledge) before you start helping people you don’t personally know enter more fruitfully into Lent.

Should I celebrate my kids’ birthday on their birthday in Lent or on Sunday?

This is one of those “It’s totally up to you.” answers. There is nothing in the Bible, the Catechism, or Canon Law that tells you what you must do. But, as someone whose birthday falls during Lent at least every three out of four years (and during Holy Week almost every two out of four years), this is a question about which I have thought a great deal. And my answer is (almost always) “Yes.”

As Chris and I see it, the family is the domestic Church, which makes the birthdays of our family members our domestic solemnities. If you have a Lenten birthday in your family (we usually have two—mine and Ellie’s) this doesn’t mean you need to host a huge party on your actual birthday. You definitely can save big gatherings for Saturday evenings or Sundays. But within your family, whenever possible, I am of the mind that you should be celebrated on your actual birthday. Every member of your family, little and big, is an unrepeatable gift. Everyone’s life is a miracle. And everyone deserves to have a fuss made over their existence on the anniversary of their birth.

Remember, every penance outside the Ash Wednesday and Good Friday fasts (and abstaining from meat on Fridays) is optional. It’s freely chosen. By you. So, you get to make the rules and conditions for that penance. And it seems to me that Christian charity and the dignity of the human person demands that if we have a family member (or chosen family member) who has a Lenten birthday, then we choose our penance going into Lent knowing that we will be celebrating and eating cake or pie or cookies on that day. That’s the condition we place on it.

That being said, the Church’s rules are still the Church’s rules. So, birthday dinners on Fridays and Ash Wednesday still need to be meatless (at least for the 14+ crowd). And for me, when my birthday does fall on Good Friday (happens all the time), I normally choose to defer the celebration until later. In 2022, however, I made an exception. That year, we were home in Illinois with my parents, and my family really wanted to celebrate me that day, So, we got Thai takeout for dinner and that was everyone’s one meal of the day. As it turned out, that was the last birthday I celebrated with my parents. My dad died the following year, and my mom’s Alzheimers advanced so rapidly that we had to sell their home and move her into memory care. Looking back, I am so glad I let them celebrate me that day and didn’t put them off. That’s another reason to celebrate on the day when you can: you never know when the last birthday you celebrate with someone will truly be their last. Or yours.

So yes, celebrate. Life is a gift. And us poor folks with perpetual Lenten birthdays deserve to have that acknowledged as much as everyone else.

How do you like to do Stations of the Cross with little ones?

At home. With coloring pages.

I’m not joking. This year, we may attempt the Stations of the Cross on a Friday one —ONE— time at our parish. Or we may walk through them with the kids by ourselves and talk to them about each station. It’s also possible that Chris or I will just take Toby by himself.

But if we do any of that, it will be the first time. We have never attempted Stations before. There have always been too many little ones with no big ones to help raise the bar on behavior. And while some little ones might manage Stations just fine, our particular little ones are not prone to silence and docility in liturgical services. Which is not a huge deal when the liturgical service is Mass, and a little bit of noise hurts no one (or when you can just head to the back when the noise gets to be too much). But, up until now, Chris and I have had zero confidence in our kids’ ability to handle the Stations in a way that would not make them disruptive to others and the whole experience painfully stressful for us. We are not that brave.

You, however, might be. You know your children and what they can handle. I don’t. But just remember you don’t have to be that brave. It’s okay to not do All The Liturgical Things during Lent and Easter when all your kids are really little. Not everything is age appropriate for them, and some things are just more stress for you and them than they are worth.

Seasons change quickly, though. The fact that we are even contemplating going this year is a big deal. And two years from now, when Toby is almost nine, Becket is almost seven, and Ellie is almost six, we will probably be doing Stations of the Cross every Friday. Until then, we will mostly stick to craft projects at home. For example, I spotted this Stations of the Cross water coloring book while browsing Instagram the other day and ordered three. I think they might be a great way to go through the Stations with the kids without leaving the house (or making a mess). I will report back when they arrive. (Not an affiliate link. No code. Sorry!)

How will you be observing Lent with your littles?

Again, really simply. None of our children have reached the age of reason yet (though Toby is pretty close), and none are remotely near the age where abstinence from meat or fasting from food is required (fourteen and eighteen respectively). Accordingly, our focus right now is more on introducing them to the concept of Lent and helping them grow in familiarity with Christ’s love, then it is on asking them to actually participate in Lent.

Like with the Stations of the Cross, I understand why parents of very young children feel that they need to do all All the Lenten Things. We all want our children to know the Faith and love the Faith. We also all see the pictures on social media during Lent of beautiful Catholic families doing beautiful Catholic things. That can make us feel like we too should do those beautiful Catholic things, preferably right now, as soon as possible, the earlier the better. But that’s not always the case. A lot of those beautiful Catholic things are actually for slightly older kids (or calmer kids) and trying to do them before kids are ready (or before enough kids in the family are ready—critical mass matters) often just becomes an experience in frustration for the parents.

For example, two years ago I tried doing a jar of sacrifice beans with the kids (where kids put a dried bean in a mason jar every time they make a little sacrifice). It was a disaster. First, Toby was the only who even could somewhat grasp the concept of a sacrifice, and at age 4, he willingly made exactly one. After that, he wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, he and Becket decided it was much more fun to grab fistfuls of the beans whenever I wasn’t looking, and deposit them all over the house. We were still finding beans when we moved.

In the end, it was a good penance for me, but not for them. I briefly considered trying it again this year, but I am pretty sure Ellie would just eat the beans. So, we’re going to hold off on that for another year. I also decided to hold off making the Internet famous Crown of Thorns (where you take a grape vine wreath and stick painted toothpicks into it that kids can remove every time they make a sacrifice). I am already stepping on Legos every 3.5 seconds as it is. I don’t need to be stepping on toothpicks as well. Which, knowing my kids like I do, I would be.

So, for now, we will stick to the basics. On Ash Wednesday, we will go to Mass and get ashes on our foreheads. That night and every night of Lent, we will try to add a short Scripture reading to the decade of the Rosary we already pray together. I bought the loveliest Lenten Scripture cards from Mother and Home a couple years back, and we have used those as our guide during Lent ever since (all sold out sorry). The kids love getting the cards out, and this helps them grow more familiar with Jesus and His mission. As mentioned above, we may attempt Stations once. We also might make pretzels and do a few other simple activities from Katie Bogner’s new book All About Lent (which I highly recommend and have a discount code: Emily15). Good Friday is up in the air. I’d like to take the kids to services that day, since no one naps anymore, but we’ll be back in Illinois, so it will probably depend on what my mom needs from me while we’re there.

Beyond that, we don’t have any plans. We know our kids will be learning more about the Lenten season at school, through the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. That, in turn, will reinforce what they’re seeing and doing at home, which will be a little more than we did last year and a little less than what we’ll do next year. As they grow and change, our Lenten plans grow and change. But, again, our baseline goal is always to be sensitive to where our children are developmentally and not ask more of them than what they can do. God willing, they will have a lifetime of entering ever more deeply into the season of Lent. But for now, we just want to lay a solid foundation for the kind of relationship with Christ that inspires joyful penance, not begrudging sacrifices.

Do you have any great Lenten reads or devotionals to recommend?

I am always and forever a fan of the classic In Conversation with God. It’s a multi-volume devotional that covers the whole year, but you can buy just the volume for Lent and Eastertide. I like it because I find it both more substantive and more practical than more recent devotionals.

As for books, Dom Hubert Van Zeller’s Spirit of Penance, Path to God: How Acts of Penance Will Make Your Life Holier and Your Days Happier is a great Lenten read.

Also, Pope Benedict XVI’s Jesus of Nazareth: From the Entrance Into Jerusalem to the Resurrection. Pope Benedict was so good. And brilliant. And wonderfully clear. I miss him.

If you really want to do something intense, you could read Catherine of Siena’s Dialogue, which I think is the most accessible book of private revelation by a female mystic … but that’s like saying one professor’s advanced calculus course is the most accessible of all advanced calculus courses. It is not easy reading. Still, it’s excellent. And challenging.

If you want to read a deep meditation on sin and penance in fiction, I would recommend something by Francois Mauriac—maybe Viper’s Tangle or Women of the Pharisees.

And if you’ve got teens, I would try to get your hands on a classic tale of the English Catholic martyrs. Something like Come Rack, Come Rope by Robert Hugh Benson or Evelyn Waugh’s biography of Saint Edmund Campion.

Do you have any fresh ideas for almsgiving or charities or organizations you can recommend?

We aren’t the most interesting almsgivers around here. We love to do it and do it always, but I’m not sure how new or fresh our ideas are. Obviously, giving to your parish is foundational. Also, having Masses said for the living and the dead is incredibly important. You can read more about that here. Maybe if there is someone (or several someones) in your life causing you a great deal of stress or difficulty, you could make a special point of having a Mass said for them. This includes public figures and politicians. I tend to be of the mind that before you complain about someone publicly on social media, you should first have a Mass said for them. Or just have a Mass said for them and let them and Jesus work it out. Either way, it’s a win for all of us, as the result will inevitably be both more Masses and less complaining.

Let’s see, what else?

Excellent Catholic schools are always on our almsgiving list. Obviously, we have a soft spot for Franciscan University, but the Newman Guide is a great resource to find other solidly Catholic colleges and universities to support. If you have a small local Catholic grade school that you love, I can pretty much bet they need money. And if they don’t, our little neighborhood Montessori school, which is located smack dab in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Ohio and provides unfunded tuition assistance to almost every family there, absolutely needs help. I wrote about them here.

I think giving local really is one of the best things you can do. Local crisis pregnancy centers, local homeless shelters, local homes for women escaping trafficking—all these are doing work that the state cannot do and doing it on a shoestring budget. They truly depend on local donors ,and when you give to them, you know your dollar is being stretched as far as it can stretch.

Chris and I also like to support individual missionaries. Currently we support Focus domestically, as well as my dear friend Shannon’s work in China, through her apostolate Project Xavier, and the Mary, Mother of God Mission, in Vladivostok, Russia. The Culture Project and Vagabond Missions are also wonderful organizations doing great work.

Then, there are media apostolates, like

The Pillar

, which are doing the reporting no one else is doing in Catholic media.

And religious orders, of course. There are so many good ones out there, but we regularly give to lesser known ones like the New Mt. Carmel Monks, Fairfield Carmelites, and Alhambra Carmelites. We really like the Carmelites. But the Sisters of Life, Nashville Dominicans, and the TOR Sisters locally are also wonderful.

Again, that list isn’t exhaustive or especially creative. My husband and I do not have a lot of money these days, but we love giving money away and usually will send $20 to almost every charity who asks us to give. Maybe trying something like that for Lent—just giving something to everyone who asks during this season, even if it’s only $5—would be a good way to cultivate detachment and generosity.

The important thing is to give—to give freely and joyfully and even sacrificially. No matter what is happening with our finances, we strive to give as generously as we can. Sometimes more generously. There have been times where we have given away money that we actually needed because someone else’s need was more urgent and pressing. But somehow, whenever we have done that, we still ended up with the money we needed. God takes care of it. I don’t know how, but He does. That may be one of the most important lessons I’ve learned through almsgiving. So if that’s what you learn too, this Lent will be a good one for you.

What’s your opinion on all-you-can-eat parish fish frys and desert fundraisers?

I’m going to treat those as two separate questions. First, fish frys. I love them. I think they are awesome. I think Steubenville is the biggest loser town in America for not having even one parish fish fry. Living in Pittsburgh for seven years, where every Catholic parish was vying for having the best fish fry in town, spoiled me rotten. Yes, they are a bit indulgent, but they are often the last experience many Catholics have of a vanished Catholic culture, which (as I talk about above) did make entering into Lent easier for many Catholics. Lenten fish frys are an experience of solidarity with your fellow Catholics. It’s something you do together—you fast from meat on Fridays and eat fish. Whether or not you like meat or find it challenging to give it up is beside the point. There is something good, beautiful, and encouraging about that experience of solidarity. Which, again, most people in most places in America don’t have anymore. So, yes, bring on the fried fish in the parish basement on Fridays. I will be there for it.

Desserts….now that’s a different matter. Latin Rite Catholics keep the wussiest fast of any fast kept by any Catholics since the day Christ left this earth. We are asked to give up basically nothing. We even get to snack on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. And yes, you can make a case for why that it is. There are some good things about a gentle fast. But there also are a lot of good things about actual fasting. Holy men and women have not been recommending it since time immemorial just for kicks. There are real spiritual benefits to fasting and abstaining from food—actual food, not just podcasts in the car or scrolling Instagram—and simply giving up sweets is the most basic way to enjoy some of those benefits and enter into the spirit of the Lenten fast. It also can be done by almost anyone. Not young children. Not someone newly recovered from an eating disorder. Not a diabetic who might need to suck on a piece of hard candy in an emergency. But pretty much everyone else who is not dying can skip sugar for 40 odd days. I do wish, like Eastern Catholics, we all just gave up sugar as a matter of course. I also wish more parishes presumed that most Catholics were doing that baseline level of fasting and did not serve up an actual buffet of rich, tempting desserts at every fish fry. Alas, that is not the case. But if I were in charge of a parish fish fry, I would put the ix-nay on dessert.

So, those are my thoughts. Which matter not at all, because no one will ever put me in charge of a parish fish fry. We’d have to get one in Steubenville first.

More next week!

If you have read all the way to the end of this monster newsletter, I am hoping you got something out it. I’m also hoping you’ll consider upgrading your subscription to paid. This is my apostolate, but it’s also my job, and how I help support my family. Your subscriptions will keep more newsletters like this coming.

Five Fast Things

This newsletter was a doozy, so truly fast today

1. Our latest podcast, this time on IVF

2. An awesome new biography for middle grade readers on Blessed Nicholas Steno

3. Again, Katie Bogner’s book on Lent. Grab it ASAP for 20 percent off with code Emily20

4. The link to my books one more time. So many Easter Baskets to fill and First Communicants to catechize!

5. Steubenville is doing something right!

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Let’s Meet in Person This Year!

May 3, Buffalo Catholic Women’s Conference, Buffalo, NY

May 8, The Canadian March for Life Rose Dinner Gala, Ontario, Canada

August 1: Superior Diocesan Council of Catholic Women Convention, Woodruff, Wisconsin

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In Case You Missed It

Navigating Funerals, Praying to Grandma, and Hoping for Heaven (Free for All Subscribers)

Freemasonry, Hurtful Siblings, and Prayers About Hell (Free for all Subscribers)

IVF Questions and Answers (Free for All Subscribers)