In the three decades our family has lived in Ohio, this winter has produced the most snowfall by far; and because of the cold temperatures, it has accumulated and stayed, bathing all Northeastern Ohio in a clean, white pall. However, with snow comes snow removal – shoveling – something that being from Minnesota I am well acquainted with and actually enjoy, as long as it’s not too heavy.
For me, growing up shoveling snow was a matter of routine – like mowing the lawn. And not only were we expected to shovel our own sidewalks and driveway, but also the widow next door because, as my dad said, it was the “right thing to do.” After that, we were free to enact commerce by going through the neighborhood, door to door, asking to shovel people’s yards for a quarter.
[Note: besides shoveling one’s yard, it was also customary to “shovel” your roof so that snow buildup would be kept to a minimum. This reduced the weight setting on the roof, belaying ice formation which could cause damage and produce leaks. This unique task was accomplished by using a large aluminum squeegee-like tool on a long pole and raking the snow downward from the roof.]
Today, however, with snow plowing and snowblowers, shoveling has become something of a lost art – a fact that I have been dwelling upon each time I bundle up and go out to clear the snow off our driveway, sidewalks, patio, and portions of our yard so that our dogs would have a place to “go.”
When I say shoveling is a lost art, it goes deeper than that, because shoveling snow involves the use of math, science, and physics. For one to shovel economically, you need to calculate mass times area, divided by shovel size, then factor in density plus the expenditure of energy. For example:
As the garage door goes up and you stand with shovel in hand and look out upon the vast expanse of a snow-covered driveway, it appears you have a very daunting task to perform. However, if you shovel right down the middle of the driveway, you divide your task into two halves. And if you divide those halves into smaller plots or “gridwork,” visually your work seems more manageable, and every portion you complete becomes a little victory, seemingly making the arduous task appear easier and easier.
In addition, it is always more advantageous and efficient to go out multiple times during a snowstorm to shovel rather than waiting until it ends. Tackling the storm every three hours and shoveling two to three inches at a time is far better than facing two feet of snow upon a storm’s culmination. It becomes a matter of keeping up with the shoveling instead of having to deal with it all at once. In this way, you expend less energy and each venture passes quickly.
Getting a full scoop of ice cream at an ice cream parlor ensures your economic interests, but shoveling should also involve a sense of economy: economy of effort. Pushing a shovel so that it only uses half a scoop allows you to fill it and throw the snow with greater efficiency at the end of a line because you are exerting less energy. Filling one’s shovel to capacity and having to walk to dump it somewhere is foolish.
These are just self-realized life lessons in shoveling snow, learned from extensive years of practice, yet they can also serve as a metaphor for undertaking Great Lent.
When we stand upon the threshold of the Great Fast, it, too, can appear a mighty, daunting effort. There is so much for us to focus on within this proposed life-changing period: increased prayer, fasting, reading Holy Scripture, spiritual meditation, studying the lives of saints and other worthwhile spiritual material; attention to performing good works, and mindfulness on charity. There are more services, a call to quietness, and undertaking the fast by lessening the grasp which television, radio, and social media place on us.
However, if we cut through what does and doesn’t matter in our quest towards salvation, we create a distinct vision that orders and eases our efforts. And by continuing to subdivide our efforts into spiritual categories, Great Lent becomes far less a “burden” as we make little victories by conquering sins, passions, laziness – all the while gaining strength in our faith and growing closer to God.
Like the analogy of trying to shovel too much snow all at once, the Great Fast is not given as a venture to be completed in an instant, but rather a seven-week journey which encourages better efforts little by little, step by step – slowly, arduously, steadily. It is true that change can happen in a moment, but real growth generally arises through consistency of effort, commitment, understanding, and self-realization.
Therefore, during this upcoming Lenten Season, make sure that you don’t try and do too much too quickly, because this often produces a recipe for failure and disappointment. Instead, look at Great Lent like keeping up with shoveling during a long, drawn-out snowstorm and tackle it a little bit at a time. Doing so will certainly create a clear path to success.
Very Rev. Fr. John Memorich
