Kirkepiscatoid

As some of you know, and many of you may not, for years I have given up hot sauce for Lent. This year has been the first year I have been seriously out of the closet about it. My close friends knew it, my clergy connections knew it, but I didn't really advertise it. What is odd is that as much as I ate it, it seemed no one noticed I WASN'T eating it, which was handy. It wasn't like noticing an alcoholic that wasn't drinking. It kept it between me and God. But this year I came out of the closet about it, and I think it was because it took me years to answer the question, "Why hot sauce?"

This morning, non-coincidentally, over on Facebook, I was asked the question, "Why do you give up hot sauce? Is it a wall between you and God?" That's a good question, and I guess since I'm out of the closet on it this year, I might as well give it the answer it deserves.

I always give something up, and add something for Lent. This year, the "adding" is that I am going to examine The Great Litany (p. 148 in the BCP) and reflect and blog on it. There is a lot in those few pages upon which to chew. One of the interesting things, though, about giving up the same thing year after year, is that I have to grow yearly in the "why" of it.

In the beginning...(big Cecil B. DeMille widescreen shot here...)

I first started giving up hot sauce for Lent b/c at that time, I was a "Lone Wolf Christian." I had been long estranged from the denomination of my childhood. My first decision was to give up ANYTHING. Since I was being one of the great unchurched, I was under no authoritarian pressure to do it. It would be totally of my own accord, between me and God. It was a statement. "I've given up on THESE people, God, but I have not given up on YOU. I have not given up on your power to help me see."

So I rattled through the standard "give 'em ups" for Lent....

Cigarettes: I didn't smoke anymore. Could not afford both beer and cigarettes in school; one had to go.
Liquor: Already did that for six months when I got exposed to TB and my skin test turned positive and I had to take Isoniazid for six months. While on Isoniazid, beer made me sick to my stomach and elevated my liver enzymes on the blood tests they were doing as followup. I did not miss it. I can take or leave liquor for the most part. It wasn't that much of a sacrifice.
Chocolate: Don't like it that much.
Chewing gum: I get on runs of chewing gum, but am not habitual about it.
Cussing: Not gonna happen. Would bust that one in a fit of pique within 24 hours. It would be a lofty goal, but a very impractical one!

But then, as I was eating my breakfast oatmeal and putting my usual salt, garlic and Cholula hot sauce on it (YES, that is what I put on my oatmeal, AND my hash browns, AND my eggs...) it hit me...hot sauce. I put hot sauce on most everything. I would miss it. It would be hard to do without, but not a necessity, and I would miss it, and that "missing" would remind me to be grateful of the things I take for granted in life.

So that was how it started.

Then a few years rolled by, and as a result of this discipline, I noticed another sidelight of it. I had started to get creative about substitution. Eggs are the hardest for me without hot sauce. Eggs are so "blah" to me. I started playing with different combinations of spices...basil...oriental five spice blend...different cheeses...pesto...

I tried hard not to "compare" them (If I took that route, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of hot sauce") but to appreciate them for what they were. This was a huge realization, this "appreciating them for what they are" business, instead of thinking in terms of "as good as" or "not as good as". Where else in my life did I need to do that?

In the last couple of years, I have pondered the "non-coincidence" of having chosen hot sauce. At this point, I think I have at least a small understanding of it.

I am a person who truly loves the "zest" of life, even though in some ways, I am very private and introverted, beneath the gregarious whirlwind of my outer personality. Some years back, when I was a recipient of a resolution from the Truman State University Board of Governors, they had mentioned "my exuberant zest for life and tremendous wit." So it is no secret that I love the spice of life, even though sometimes I hide in my den to recharge.

Hot sauce is a sensory reminder of that zest. Passionate heat, enhancement of the plainest of foods, and unexpected tears. It's zeal and zip. It's warmth that stays after the meal is over. It's even a reminder that moderation is good, as anyone who has ever experienced "the day after" overindulging it can attest!

What would my life be, without that zest? What would our world be, without the zeal of the life, passion and death of Christ? Oh, the world would probably keep on turning, but it would sure be a lot blander and less flavorful.

We miss the most that which we have at our constant disposal. Death and loss teach us that in a big way. But hot sauce is a gentler and, in some ways, more constant reminder for me in some ways, because "little things mean a lot" in my world. We are supposed to learn from the big things. The little things so frequently go unnoticed. That's a lot of awareness in a five ounce bottle!