“Roget,” she’d say before a slight pause, and then continue, “plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose.” The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Madame Reid, my patient high school French teacher, loved to recite this phrase when she handed back my test papers—her beautiful, seductive French, and ebullient personality were mesmerizing, but they could not disguise her disappointment in me as she stated this subtle form of reprimand.
It is so difficult for me to break out of destructive habits—laziness, procrastination, the need to control or have my own way, always be right, selectively listen when what I hear may challenge me. The Season of Lent provides a forty-day stretch of time to begin the work of breaking that cycle—peel away the phony disappointing self and the needs to which I secretly cling: to be liked; come across as smart, funny, cool and hip; and make the world in which I work and play one that buoys the image I wish to foster.
Shedding the comfortable, uncomfortable old “skin” to embrace the new will be challenging because being aware of discomfort isn’t enough.
Action is required, and therein lies my biggest challenge: how I meet and overcome this difficulty (stay tuned for my next post).
This Lent, to the writings of Eugene Peterson, Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen, and Frederick Buechner, all staples in my year-round meditation and devotional practice, I’ll add journaling. Write what I’ll never say, or swear I’ll never tell anyone, but who knows? The author whose words I read provide the tapestry through which I thread the “break the cycle” needle, listening and writing in solitude not only to their insights but to the discoveries I wish to embrace and discard as Easter approaches.
Madame Reid’s words describe what I accept, have for years, but would like to amend: “plus ca change, c’est la meme chose” becomes “plus ca change, vive la difference.”
While I strive to uncover and celebrate the “difference(s)” in myself brought about by new ways of acting in the world and fresh ways of thinking, some things will remain the same. Potato chips, brownies, dark chocolate, beer, wine, and yummy pastries will continue to be staples in my life—and those mocha lattes—yum! My favorite spinach and cheddar cheese croissant with morning coffee at Vermont Coffee Roaster, then later, beer and baseball, followed by an evening treat—a dark chocolate truffle (or two), and a glass of red wine—will remain in place and won’t distract me from my Lenten task.
Fasting and abstinence are traditional Lenten practices, designed to simulate the sacrifice of Jesus during his forty-day sojourn in the desert. However valuable, they’ll not be part of my Lenten regimen this year, a time during which I’ll remember his sacrifice and journey in quiet moments of solitude, meditation, and prayer. For me, this year’s Lenten practice is about spiritual and psychological healing rather than espousing a sackcloth and ashes austerity that leaves me wanting and thereby distracted.
Prior to embarking on my forty-day journey, I’d read the following Gloria Steinem quote posted by Bette, a friend from California: “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”
Do I really want to sign on for this if Ms. Steinem’s words are true?
Absolutely, I think as I begin to choke on my resistance.
I want the truth in comfortable and palatable form, not truths that make me confront God, and myself—the ones I’ve now vowed not to run from.
Buddy Guy says: “Funny thing about the blues—you play ‘em, ‘cause you got ‘em. But, when you play ‘em, you lose ‘em.”
Well, time for me to play the truth-tunes I’ve avoided in order to lose the “bluesy” ones I’ve clung to and see what I will find.
by 
Best wishes, Roger. If you can do it, maybe we can too.
Ned,
Thanks for your wishes, Ned, and same to you–we’re all trying, each in our own way–very encouraging to know we’re not alone. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Roger
Wonderful post, Roger. You are ripping your heart open for all to see, and what we see is beautiful. I have found when I am most uncomfortable with what I am writing, it probably means I’m getting closer to the truth. I think many of humans secretly crave what is truest, even if it makes us wildly uncomfortable. If I don’t discard the truth that has been revealed and sit with it for a while, it gets less uncomfortable and then in some mysterious ways, it becomes apart of my new fabric. I knew Easter was coming, but I forget about the Lent part. What would I like to discard, replace, renew, abstain from? You’ve given me uncomfortable food for thought. I know spinach is good for you, but do you have to eat it? I’ll try.
Jo Anne,
Spinach was a staple in my home of origin, and any childhood fantasy I had about becoming Popeyesque vanished quickly, and with it my “love” of spinach. But, the spinach croissants I mention in the post are scrumptious! I agree with your comment about feeling uncomfortable meaning truth is lurking nearby. Tough to resist turning away from being uncomfortable. Thanks for reading and commenting, and keep writing!
Roger
This is a Lent that makes a difference. May we all go deep enough and be brave enough to heal and transform.
Kim,
Thanks, and here’s to having the courage to “heal and transform” while practicing forbearance toward those with whom we disagree.
Roger
This doesn’t sound like very much fun, Roger. Life is short. Can you cut yourself some slack?
Dona,
Thanks for spending time with me. I’ve spent a lifetime “cutting [myself] some slack,” but you’re correct–have more fun in the short time we’re allotted is increasingly important. As we approach Palm Sunday the image of Jesus on a donkey conjures up a variety of images–most of which bring smiles and laughter to me as I sit with the ludicrousness of the picture. The New Testament narrative is about turning the world upside down and inside out–impossible for me not to find humor and fun in that along with the serious message.
Roger
“”Prone to wander Lord I feel it”
Your thoughts cause me to ponder
Did God create lent or did people create lent?
People I think. Did Jesus condemn the woman at the well?
No
The man blind since birth?
No
The woman caught in adultery condemned to be stoned
No
God is more merciful than we can fathom
More forgiving than we can accept
Let’s evaluate lent to determine if it is a creation
of God
Or of people who cannot or will not accept GRACE.
This is the first time I have ever evaluated lent.
Thank you for the thought provoking post
Kay,
Thank you for reading and your thoughts. Evaluating Lent is a yearly exercise for me which includes asking the same question you do about it’s origin. New Testament writers and Shakespeare, among others talk about mercy, and though eloquent in their descriptions it is difficult to practice. Grace is a mind-boggling offering–no strings, no way to earn, just accept the fact and truth of it. Intellectually I get it, but in my soul where I live–how is it possible?
Roger
My lenten promise is learning to trust Jesus and praise him in all circumstances even if some times I have to say, “Really?”
I read Sarah Young’s daily reflection in her book Jesus Calling. Today he says, “Be careful not to complain about anything, even the weather since I am the Author of you circumstances. The best way to handles unwanted situations is to thank Me for them.” I find great comfort in the words Jesus I trust you and live today, each moment in that trust. He never lets me down.
Thank you for sharing and continually inspiring me.
Carmen,
Can’t remember how many times I ask, Really? And do so on a daily basis! “I trust you” is a powerful soul-felt declaration, thank you for reminding me–especially in so doing of all the times I declare that with my fingers crossed, and hedging my bets. So much for me to learn, and thank you for pushing me.
Roger
Roget, Your description of Madame Reid’s words and style bring back vivid memories of her French class and our first attraction to French and each other. Although I do not recall hearing her flowering French truism “plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose,” you weave her words wonderfully into your piece, and remind me, how I have come to understand and embrace this concept over time. I wear a favorite phrase on an old and worn t-shirt: “Change is good,” meaning for me that change happens, whether you like it or not, and it is sometimes helpful and wise to choose your own changes, as you are able. I relate to your reference to the yin and yang of comfortable and uncomfortable shedding of old skin, and your conclusion of being ready to play your own truth tune, and being open to see what happens. Right on and write on, mon ami.
Colette,
The T-shirt may be “old and worn [out],” but not the “Change is good” phrase, wear it till it tatters! Both you and Madame Reid were beguiling to me my sophomore year, although her beguiling ways had a deceptively charming agenda–to get me from a C to an A student. Though I hovered around mediocrity in French, you and I did enjoy a nice but short high school romance.
Roger