The view of man in these modern times as a “consumer” is a view that sees all creation in economic terms. Even in our churches, the rice bowls, food and clothing packages that nobody wants, the extra collections to fund the fund-raisers, exhortations to sacrifice Money, and consumer goods—stuff. We should give up stuff so that those who have less stuff may have more stuff.

“I shall not want.” What does that mean? To “want” means literally to “not have”. The two terms are mutual contradictions: You cannot both want and have. You must choose one or the other. The psalmist chooses to have. It’s the second sentence, immediately following “The Lord is my shepherd”. Therefore, he shall not want. The rest of the 23rd Psalm is the denouement of that choice—and what a happy outcome it is.

I also choose to have. Therefore, I do not want. In an almost Chestertonian paradox, I’ve found Lent to be the perfect time for having.

You start with “giving up” something, to not have—or trying to. It won’t work because in true paradox fashion, it always yields more, not less. Just try giving up complaining, for example. Before you know it, you find you have nothing to complain about. Everything is great. I tried to give up criticizing, but all that happened was that I discovered all this genuine tolerance and real affection for people. I didn’t even know I had that.

So, okay, give up television. Good heavens. I got Joseph Pearce’s Literary Converts, (what a delight!), The Holy Father’s Jesus of Nazareth, Part Two, and How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization on audio for the car—so far.

Like the psalmist, I chose long ago to have. When I chose my Shepherd, I didn’t know it, but I was also choosing not to want. Ever since, I seem to be simply unable to not have. I can’t seem to make Lent work as less—it’s always more.

But to choose to have instead of to want is also to choose to live as something other than an “economic being”. That is not what we are, not what anyone is. If we’re not creatures of economics, we can think about who we are, as well as who “they” are, not act out the what that someone has told us we all are.

But if one is in fact an economic being, a consumer, a sociological-political-economic construct, Lent is indeed a time of not having, of wanting. So, okay, have fun—want away. I’ll wait here in the green pastures by the still waters with my overflowing cup.