Week 1

Christ and the Chocolaterie
Hilary Brand

Week One: The prelude to Change

To start you thinking

I love chocolate - dark and bitter, rich and creamy, lemon creams, mint thins, caramels, truffles, pralines, profiteroles, Mars bars, Mississippi mud pies - even the names make your mouth water. I'm a fruit and nut case, I've had more Yorkies than one of Eddie Stobart's drivers, I would definitely not give you my last Rolo.

I also weigh 13 stone.

I am appalled to see this statement in print, but I screwed up my courage and put it here for a good reason. I want to make an honest admission that, where food is concerned, I am very bad indeed at giving up. Or, put another way, where diets and exercise are concerned, I am very good at giving up.

I am telling you this to explain that, wonderful as chocolate is, for me it can quite genuinely become an addiction. I know that food is the first thing I turn to when I am stressed, and that the wrong sort of food makes me sluggish and slobbish and a lookalike for Jabba the Hutt's auntie. I am all too aware that because there is more of me than there ought to be, in other aspects there is less of me than there could be. I know that when I do eat less and exercise more, I have more energy to put into my life. I know that unless I shed a few stone, I will never be able to see the sunrise from the top of Mount Sinai, wear the latest fashions or dance without feeling silly - all things I would love to do.

I begin this way to show you one reason at least why Chocolat's seductive celebration of 'if it feels good do it' may need to be looked at with something of a critical eye. (Another, of course, is that fact that much of the chocolate we eat in the West is produced in the developing nations of the world in conditions of near slavery)

The film's philosophy of indulging yourself, enjoying life and learning to be yourself very much taps into the spirit of our age. Now, there are some very healthy aspects to all of those attitudes, and the last thing I want to be is a Comte (or Grinch or Scrooge). All the same, my knowledge of the Christian faith leads me to wonder whether we should jettison self-denial that easily. It is all too easy to take on the 'feel-good' message of a film without thinking. Perhaps we should first explore whether the idea of 'giving something up for Lent' - be it chocolate, wine, television or sex - is a valid one? Is it even a Christian one?

Origins of Lent

The name `Lent' comes from the Saxon word Lenctentid, used for the month of March and signifying spring-tide and the lengthening of days. The idea of a fast before Easter, however, goes back way before Christianity reached the Saxons, to the first centuries of the Church. It seems to have sprung up spontaneously, albeit only originally practised for two or three days before Easter. The earliest known reference to a forty-day fast was in 325 CE as one of the 'canons' (church rules) arising from the Council of Nicaea, where church leaders from all of the then Christian world met to thrash out a mutual understanding of what they believed. It became common practice that for forty days only one meal a day was eaten, with no meat or fish.

The forty days, of course, is an echo of Christ's time of fasting in the wilderness. But Christ never commanded his followers to fast (although he did assume it as a common practice, talking in Matthew 6:16 about 'when you fast' rather than 'if), and neither did the apostles. So why did the practice arise? The main reason seems to be that baptisms at that time only happened once a year at Easter. Lent was instituted as a preparation for baptism - public entry to the Christian faith - and for those who wanted to renew their baptismal vows.

Christ's fast in the wilderness had a purpose - it was as a prelude to a major change in his life: the beginning of a ministry that would change the face of history. When he called his followers to give up anything, that too was in order to set them free to follow a new direction.

It was in order that they might be radically changed - and that their change would change their world. So it was in the first centuries of Christendom - Lent was a time of preparation for a major life change.

Read Matthew 4:1-11, 18-22

Pause for thought

N.B. This is an exercise in imagination - there are no right or wrong answers.

What would have happened if Jesus had not withdrawn to the desert and been tempted for forty days before he began his ministry?

What would have happened if Peter and Andrew, James and John had not given up the security of their employment and followed Jesus?

And a further pause

As well as pondering the above, if you can possibly find the time, please read the following passage, and reflect on the following question. Both questions will be discussed during the group evening.

Read Mark 10:17-27

What would have happened if the rich young man had given away everything he owned and embarked on a new life? What might have happened to him if he had not?

To continue your thinking

It is fascinating to note that fasting is a common factor in all major religions and even among those with no religion — as the proprietors of health spas and Weight Watchers can testify. Perhaps what we are looking at is a common human urge to strip life back now and again to the basics. Perhaps it is an instinctive feeling that in order to be more spiritually aware, there are times when the material things you so depend on just have to go.

Giving up is, of course, not just about a healthy body. There are ways in which mind and spirit can be honed and strengthened by times of abstinence, not least from the constant pressures and distractions of our frenetic world. Perhaps this is something that mindfulness techniques, exercise programmes and alternative therapies have been able to teach us — that our well-being is a holistic issue: body, mind and spirit.

There may come a point, though, where alternative therapies and beliefs part company with the New Testament. For Christ's message is inescapable — self-denial is not only about the good it does to me.

In this course we are exploring not only 'giving up' but also 'giving out'.

If you want to give to others, it will almost always involve giving up something you would rather keep for yourself. Nursing a sick relative involves a loss of time and freedom. Making a donation to Oxfam involves not spending on something you might otherwise afford. And there are some evils that simply cannot be conquered at a distance. There are times when someone must be willing to give up creature comforts and security and just go.

Chocolat could easily be seen as an anti-Lent film, then again, Vianne could easily be seen as a role model of the sort of self-denial Christ advocated — going without security and status in order to fulfil a calling as a kind of travelling healer. It is a calling with a cost, to Vianne and to her daughter, and like all callings, it raises hard questions. Am I really doing this because I am called, or because I am driven? How far is right to impose my calling on my child?

'Count the cost', says Jesus, to those who want to build something in their lives. 'No pain, no gain', say today's fitness instructors.

Another confession (not quite so terrible, since I imagine almost everyone reading this book could say the same) — I have lived very comfortably for pretty well all of my life. I am used to hot water, central heating and a decent mattress, and have no desire to forgo them. I have not yet been a missionary, or an aid worker. Somehow these particular tasks have never come my way. But I said 'not yet' because I would like to think that if God ever needs me — be it feeding refugees, visiting old ladies, or campaigning for change; be it in the developing world, the inner city, or even a French village — I am not so addicted to security, routine and comfort that I would be unable to meet the challenge.

I would like to think so, but ...

Am I so physically, mentally and spiritually flabby that I am likely to miss the opportunities that God wants to give me? To be honest, I don't know.

Do you?

Read Luke 5:27-32; 7:36-50

Jesus did not prepare himself for ministry in order to make himself some sort of super-spiritual being. He prepared himself for a life among people, all sorts of people. Being where they were, doing what they did. Listening, talking, healing, challenging, risk-taking, absorbing all the criticisms thrown at him.

Pause for thought

Again this is an exercise in imagination — no right or wrong answers.

What might have been different, both at the time and in the centuries that followed, if Jesus had refused to attend the tax collector's party or the Pharisee's dinner?