Lenten Thoughts

During Lent, we often focus on behaviors or things that we’d like to do less of and on virtues that we ought to practice more. These fall into the traditional categories we’re drawn towards during this sacred season: fasting, giving, and prayer.

Fasting can be abstaining from things that injure us or others. Giving might not be just sharing money or possessions but offering the goodness that’s within us. And, of course, we cannot forget prayer, which connects us to the divine source of all goodness.

When you think about it, most of our spiritual actions revolve around either doing something or not doing something. But today, I’d like to examine something else: what happens before action. As was mentioned recently in one of recent zoom retreats, the average human has somewhere in the vicinity of 60,000 thoughts per day. We don’t take action on or pay attention to many of them, but even if we act on just 5% of those thoughts, that’s still a considerable amount of activity during the course of a day.

But where do these thoughts come from, and what can we do about them? Let’s go back to John Cassian in the 3rd century. He journeyed to the desert, away from all the temptations and distractions that resided in the city, believing he might find peace there. But of course, it turned out to be the case that even in the desert, he found himself distracted—not by physical temptations, but by the thoughts associated with them. Others in that monastic tradition would call this the “monkey mind”—you can’t stop thinking, an endless stream of thoughts.

What Cassian discovered was profound: if you think about something long enough, if you dwell on a thought, it goes from being just a thought to becoming a desire. And then if you dwell on that desire, it amplifies until it becomes a passion. When something becomes a passion, you almost inevitably do something about it. And of course, depending on whether that’s on the right or wrong side of things, that can either turn out to be a vice or a virtue.

But whichever way it goes—vice or virtue—what follows is a deepening of that pattern. The action reinforces our goals, which reinforces our desires, which strengthens our passions, and the cycle continues. Many years later, modern psychology would describe this same pattern: think about doing something, do it, do it multiple times, and it tends to become a habit. The cycle works for both our destructive and constructive tendencies. And so, behavioral psychology is born.

Spiritual practices developed over the centuries, particularly centering prayer from the Cloud of Unknowing in the 13th century, focus heavily on not engaging with your thoughts. When thoughts come, they aren’t rare or unusual—they’re just part of being human. The practice isn’t to try to make your mind go blank but rather to let thoughts drift by. Rather like you’re standing on the shore and boats are passing by—eventually they will disappear from view. Eventually the thought will dissipate, and you’ll still be there in silent prayer.

During this Lenten season, I’d like to suggest something: try thinking about your thoughts before you respond to them. Before you act on an impulse, pause. Instead of going straight from thought to action, create a space, even if just a few moments, for serious listening to yourself.

You may find you begin to make a different kind of decision as soon as you pause. That pause introduces some level of discernment. It’s not necessarily asking, “What would Jesus do?” before you make that turn left, but it’s worth trying—for 24 hours, perhaps.

Many years ago, I wrote myself a note (I do that occasionally when I want to remind myself of something). This particular note was “Add 10 seconds just before responding.” Ten seconds can be a long time, but isn’t it interesting that the people who actually think about something before they respond seem to have a more measured, more interesting, or maybe more insightful and appropriate response than those who go straight from thought to mouth without any interference from the brain or the heart?

Something to think about for this Lenten day. Have a blessed weekend.

Add + Ten Seconds

Add ten seconds to each moment,

And my response would be better,

kinder, warmer, more forgiving,

than my first. 

But can I ever be as loving as He is to me?  

Reflection, image and poem Copyright 2025 Michael J. Cunningham