My three-year-old daughter has recently taken an interest in playing chess. By “playing chess,” I mean that chess is a lawless wasteland where pieces can do whatever they want. Light-squared bishops go charging through the ranks and end up on dark squares. Pawns just kill the king whenever they want and take him off of the board. Chess is currently her favorite game, and she asks both older siblings and parents alike to play with her.
At first, this anarchy was sort of funny as she pretty much destroyed any opponent within the first few moves with her pawn-kill-king tactic. But eventually, this game became wearing on all of us. Playing board games with little kids can be trying as it is; take out any semblance of the rules, it is downright exhausting.
My daughter is certainly no chess prodigy, so the rules are probably too elaborate for her to catch onto yet. But using the rules is generally accepted as the preferred method of play in pretty much every game. Of course, the rules can be burdensome when learning a new game, especially when you’re with one of those people who is really into elaborate, strategic board games. Still, the game itself is much more fun overall when everyone sticks to the agreed-upon premise and abides by the rules.
Often, we can find the “rules” of Christianity (and Catholicism, in particular) to be wearing. Is this Holy Day really that important? Why do we have to abstain every Friday? Is curbing this particular vice—and giving up the momentary pleasure that goes with it—really so essential to my spiritual health? During Lent, the penances we promised and the extra prayers we offered may have felt extra burdensome, and now that we are in the Easter season, maybe we can finally just indulge in all of the coffee and snacks we want. Maybe that time we had set aside in prayer can be ours again.
However, I have found that indulging my sloth and gluttony, permitting smaller sins that aren’t so bad, and skimming my prayers and penances to ultimately be highly detrimental to my soul—and just generally wearing. When I am playing by “the rules” (the required behaviors, the moral codes, and the best practices) of the Church, I find that life is much freer for me indeed. Anyone who has overindulged in food or drink knows that the consequences for gluttony are more burdensome than exercising self-restraint. Skipping Mass on a Sunday or Holy Day feels easier in the moment, but the guilt and lack of grace ultimately are weights that we have to carry until we can get to confession again. We all know people who spiritually live far from the Lord, and we can all say with confidence that what they perceive as happiness is really just a whisper of the goodness that a life lived with Jesus Christ can offer.
What we can perceive as “freedom”—whether that is rejecting practices that are spiritually beneficial or doing something outright sinful—is often actually limiting. A sewing pattern, for example, is not restricting our creativity but instead freeing us to make the garment we want. Playing chess by the rules allows everyone to actually enjoy the game instead of having to prepare for chaos, become feisty to get what we want, or concede to never having the chance to win.
Now that we are past Lent and the “freedom” of the Easter season is upon us, I want to encourage us to hold fast to the spiritual practices (perhaps some of the challenges we took on during Lent?) that we have found beneficial and to stay the course of spiritual growth. We know the fruits of the Spirit and the graces that are showered upon us through our persistence in the faith are way more beautiful and ultimately satisfying than any of the fleeting pleasures the world will give.