If I gave up dessert for Lent, can I eat a muffin?"
"Muffins aren't dessert. Cupcakes are, though. They are the dessert analogue of muffins, so I think you're safe. Then again, if you are eating the muffin as you would a cupcake, one could argue that you are eating dessert. What kind of muffin?"
"Well, I could get a chocolate muffin or a blueberry muffin."
"I'd stay away from chocolate. Do they have bran?"
"No, bran is gross anyway."
"True. I guess a blueberry muffin would be OK. This definitely seems like a backdoor around your refrainment from dessert though. I bet there is religious dogma about this. Maybe a sugar-content limit?"
Two times in the last 48 hours I have played the role of the neutral judge (read: Jew) in this conversation about Lent. The answer to the muffin question proves to be elusive; I invite anyone in the Divinity School to settle the debate. The doctrine regarding baked goods during Lent, however, is not what is noteworthy about this conversation. Rather, the muffin during Lent debate exemplifies our tendency to avoid sacrifice at all costs.
Similar to Ramadan in Islam and Yom Kippur in Judaism, Lent is about self-discipline through abstention-turning away from sin and toward God. It commemorates Christ's 40-day fast in the desert and his denial of Satan's temptations. Surely, Christian scripture teaches that Christ ate neither cupcakes nor muffins-not even bran.
The very premise of the muffin question defies logic. The search for a loophole to bypass your sacrifice defeats the purpose of abstaining in the first place. Essentially, those who want that muffin are willing to give something up as long as they do not actually lose anything.
Like the legendary rapper Warren G, we want it all-"money, fast cars, diamond rings, gold chains and champagne; shit, every damn thang." Unfortunately for us and for Warren G, we can't have every damn thang that we want. At some point, in order to gain, we have to give.
We can't slash taxes, increase government spending and miraculously decrease the deficit; we can't save fossil fuels if we roll H2s. In essence, there will be no fulfillment of our desires without some sort of real sacrifice on our end.
Yet we staunchly refuse to break our routine or relinquish any part of what we now have. We dodge taking on real responsibility, and to compensate, we play make-believe. We meekly support, without furthering, the causes that we "champion." We put forth minimal effort for the delusion of a clean conscience. Those who want to save the environment merely wear a green shirt in Cameron, and those who want to be "patriots" simply pin an American flag on their lapel.
The path of least resistance leads to nowhere. Today, and throughout history, we have been urged to arise from our lethargy. Currently, Barack Obama has revived John F. Kennedy's imploration to "ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."
To some, this talk of action and sacrifice for the betterment of society is simply rampant optimism and meaningless rhetoric. As for the accusation of optimism: my previous columns have dealt with subjects like a nation-wide state of depression and the ever more rapid approach of death. I am no optimist.
The notion that sacrifice begets gain is far from meaningless talk; it is straightforward logic. Simply put, change comes not with passive gestures but substantive acts-no loopholes, no shortcuts, and definitely no desserts thinly disguised as muffins.
Jordan Rice is a Trinity sophomore. His columns runs every other Friday.
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