Old, rigid rules of Lent: archaic or practical?

"Lent began in the season of the year when winter seemed endless and the hope of spring was difficult to comprehend."
The words are from Maurice Faust, who has preserved memories of growing up in central Minnesota. Faust described the month or so before Easter as downbeat for kids. The time period of which he writes covers the 1930s and '40s. The sacrifices necessitated by one's Christian faith were compounded by lots of adversity outside of faith, or course. The Depression wielded its clout and then along came World War Two.
Faust, a Catholic, reflected in his book called "Remember - No Electricity."
Our family, Lutherans, has been attending Wednesday night Lenten service for three weeks. It's no bump in the road in terms of our regular lifestyle. Could you imagine the youth of today being asked to make the kind special, arduous sacrifices that were once accepted in the Lenten season?
One constant through the years has been the placing of ashes on the foreheads of parishioners. But it's tough finding any other constants, Faust observed. This in spite of the fact that "the purpose and true meaning of Lent is and always will be the same."
Vatican II brought some loosening of the regimen. That regimen might actually have some pluses for the youth of today. The laws of fasting would be consistent with what First Lady Michelle Obama is prioritizing: fewer obese children. One meal per day was part of the Lent dictum along with meatless meals on Wednesday and Friday.
This regimen would be challenging enough today, but in that bygone time when so many more people lived and worked on farms in the countryside, it was real adversity. It was a time, Faust tells us, when three square meals per day was the norm to maintain the energy requirements of farming without modern labor-saving strategies.
It seems hard enough dealing with the extended presence of winter as it is. But the trials back then didn't end with fasting, as there was an understood prohibition on going to movies. The daily Rosary in the home was performed with earnestness.
Faust admits daydreaming through much of the Sunday High Mass. And who can blame him, as the mass and benediction were spoken in Latin, and the sermon in German!
A lot of this comes across as quite archaic now, which I suppose is why I'm writing about it. Faust seems to readily admit the dated nature of much of this observance. But he saw quite redeeming qualities too. He wrote: "I truly believe the rigid rules of Lent made us much better Christians, and consequently the appreciation of Easter was enhanced."
Faust described the Holy Week services as having many similarities to today. The Holy Saturday service was a marathon affair lasting about three hours. Children were permitted to arrive late - a gesture of lenience that in Faust's family wouldn't have been allowed on any other church day. The service "moved at the pace of a tired team (of horses) at the end of a hard day," Faust wrote, "but the anticipation of going home at noon and sampling the candy we had so diligently hoarded all during Lent made it seem like it was all downhill."
Very little of the youth existence back then could be described as "downhill." Farm life had its particular demands, which is why many of the farm youth attended "ag schools" like here in Morris (the West Central School of Agriculture). Their school year was crammed into fewer months each year than for their town brethren. Slowly, as efficiency techniques took hold on the farm, ag schools were judged obsolete and the doors closed here at the WCSA, ushering in the new era of the University of Minnesota-Morris. UMM seems quite alien from that old farm culture. I wonder what the old WCSA crowd would think of all the "gay pride" expressions here.
But times most certainly change - a truism that prompted Faust to take pen in hand in the first place. I talked with a local U.S. Census worker recently who had a background in the Pierz area, and he told me that to his knowledge, Faust is still with us. I should be so lucky as to write an entire book with such fascinating recollections. My tendency to drift off in tangents would have to be suppressed. On the other hand, the liberating feel of writing online with that license to drift and to interject peripheral thoughts when the spirit moves you, is something I think Faust would savor.
We had a visiting pastor last night (Wednesday) here at First Lutheran Church in Morris: The Reverend John Smith from "down the road" (to the east) in Cyrus. Our regular stalwart pastor Todd Mattson was reportedly in Alberta enlightening the parishioners there. Rev. Smith recalled memories of Columbine in a way I found depressing. It reminded me of when Jack Fuchs (a gregarious guy who I greatly enjoy) spoke on Memorial Day and dwelt too much on the tragedy of the Sullivan brothers in World War Two. The intent was right but the specifics were horrible to re-cast in one's mind.
I was reminiscing with long-time Morrissite Ken Johnson at the soup supper preceding our Wednesday service. Surely the two of us could spin memories that would be just as engrossing for Morris natives as Faust's work. We talked about old businesses on main street. This was when main street was more than a geographical abstraction. The lifeblood of the community seemed to run through its veins. No "big box" stores back then. Such was the attractiveness of "downtown," people would pump change into parking meters to park there. What an anachronism those meters seem today!
There is still activity on main street but it's not the heart of commerce and social interaction that it once was. No more "pool hall" where the men would socialize while their spouses shopped. No more men's and women's clothing stores.
I'm told that the old main street men's stores depended a lot on the sale of hats. Hats? That's a bigger anachronism than parking meters!
-Brian Williams - Morris Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com