Giving Up and Taking On

I only learned recently that every year Fat Tuesday comes to an abrupt end at midnight. New Orleans police shut down the Mardi Gras festivities promptly at 12 am in reverence for Ash Wednesday. The stroke of midnight is the moment Bourbon Street revelers must give it up.

We always think of “giving up” something for Lent. Some people give up meat. Others give up sweets, or alcohol, or television. If you want to face a real Lenten challenge try giving up your cell phone for forty days! But even that might be enough to get you in a true Lenten mood.

Entering church on Ash Wednesday, a woman named Nora encountered a friend who, when asked what she was giving up for Lent, said, “Anne’s giving up drinking, Terri’s giving up chocolate, and I’m just giving up.”

Ever feel like that? “Just giving up”?

“Just give up” was the Pharisee’s advice to Jesus in today’s Gospel. Herod is after you. He has you marked for death. Get out of town quick. Give up your mission here.

When Jesus hears this warning, he surprises those Pharisees by both disregarding and embracing their message. Jesus dismisses the threat of Herod with a flip and a quip. Herod is nothing but a “sly fox,” Jesus quips, forever plotting but powerless against God’s mission in the world. Jesus has his own schedule, his own agenda, his own mission to fulfill, and the time-frame has already been divinely determined.

But Jesus also asserts he will give up. He will give himself up. He will travel to Jerusalem and meet head on the traumatic tradition of that city encapsulated in this phrase — “Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it” (v.34). Jesus will give up everything, his very life, in order to fulfill his eternal mission of salvation.

Jesus will “give it up” in order that we might “get it all.”

Have you ever wondered where the phrase “my hat’s in the ring” comes from? Early in the nineteenth century there were “rules” for fighting. Pugilism, or what we call boxing, adhered to certain standards governing the beginnings and endings of matches. Even though it was a dangerous, bloody sport, there were protocols to follow. Long before boxing matches took place under the bright lights of a Las Vegas arena, it was a street event. Crowds cheered on their champion, booed the bad guy, squabbled, screeched, caused a ruckus and made a racket. When one fight ended, the only way for the next potential fighter to get the attention of the winner was not verbal, but visual. Drowned out by the crowd the next contender declared his intention to fight by tossing his hat into the fighting ring.

“Throwing your hat into the ring” soon became a figure of speech, as well as an actual act. Teddy Roosevelt is credited with being the first to use the image in the political domain. In 1912 he declared “My hat’s in the ring.” In other words, he was entering the presidential race on the Progressive Party ticket, whose motto was “We Stand At Armageddon and Do Battle For the Lord.”

Along with this symbol for fighting, boxing also had a symbol for disengagement — for quitting. A match that started with a hat thrown into the ring might end with someone “throwing in the towel.” When a fighter had been pummeled, beaten to a pulp, but still wasn’t going “down for the count,” the fighter’s coach or manager could literally “throw in the towel” — heave a rolled up towel into the ring as a sign of giving up.

Like a white flag on a battle field, the white towel thrown onto the canvas signaled the fight was over. There was a winner and there was a loser.

“Giving up” is a dirty word in American culture. The only time “giving up” is embraced is during the forty days of Lent. And even then, we carefully choose what exactly it is we will give up.

The more mundane and peripheral the better. We can “give up” chocolate or movies or parties. But do we ever really “give up” control over our own lives? Do we ever “give up” the conviction that we should and we do chart our own destinies? Do we ever give up the illusion that if we just work hard enough, act fast enough, believe fervently enough, we will never have to “give up” anything, that we can achieve anything?

Ever watch any of those “American Idol” shows?  Some contestants are hopelessly off-key. They are without rhythm, awkward, and just plan awful.

Yet after being jilted by the judges, booed and booted out of the audition room, how many of those wannabe Idols look into the camera and declare,

“I’m not going to stop trying.”

“This is just going to make me work harder.”

“I will never give up!”

“No one’s going to dampen my dreams.”

“I refuse to let Simon Cowell rain on my parade.”

These people don’t need to give up on life. But they do need to give up on a singing career. Sometimes we all need to “give up,” we need to learn how to “throw in the towel” and move on.

There are no limits, but there are limitations. And part of growing up is learning those limitations so that you give up on pipe dreams and bore down on God’s dreams for you and your life.

Persisting in one’s effort to reach a goal often meets success, but when the goal is too difficult, tenacious pursuit of it can lead to health problems. In a report in Psychological Science titled “You’ve Gotta Know When To Fold ‘Em,” psychologists Gregory Miller and Carsten Wrosch studied teenagers over the course of a year, using an instrument they developed to distinguish between people who either persist or let go when faced with a difficult goal. They found that the less-tenacious teens had lower levels of the protein CRP, an indicator of bodily inflammation. Since inflammation has been linked with serious diseases such as diabetes and heart disease, the psychologists suggest that it may be prudent to cut one’s losses in the face of insurmountable obstacles.” (“You’ve Gotta Know When to Fold ‘Em: social Disengagement and Systemic Inflammation in Adolescence” by Gregory Miller and Carsten Wrosch, Psychological Science (September 2007)

Some things DO need to die in our lives.

Sometimes we DO need to give up.

Give up on a career that is sucking out our soul.

Give up on a grudge that is gouging out a cavity in your heart.

Give up on an addictive escape—be it through drugs, alcohol, sex, power, speed, beauty—and find renewed meaning and purpose in reality.

Jesus didn’t “give up” to Herod’s threats or the Pharisee’s warnings.

But Jesus did “give up” to God’s divine plan for salvation.

Jesus did not “give up” to his own safety, security, and self-preservation.

But Jesus did “give up” and embrace his Messianic identity and mission. Jesus did “give it up” to the place and purpose God had designed especially for him, that only he could fulfill.

So what will you “give up” this Lent? Will you “throw in the towel?” Will you give up the sacred sense of control you imagine you have over your life?

And once you give up and “throw in the towel,” will you find the strength to “throw your hat into the ring” and give it up to a new challenge, a new mission, new possibilities?