Please and Pleases During Lent

In church yesterday, my thoughts went wandering a bit, but at least they were focused on Lenten themes.  I remember that the readings were about temptation and sin and the homily focused on three types of sin: sins of resentment,  "I know what is wrong, but I'll do it anyway" sins, and one other type that I can't remember because my mind drifted (sins of neglect?), but instead of paying attention I was thinking on  about the Pope's recommendation to use the words "please, thank you, and sorry" often. Thinking about the several ways we use the word "please" reminded me of ways my heart needs to be converted this Lent.

First, there is the courteous please that expects what follows will be accommodated, such as "Please pass the butter" and "Could you please pick that up?" It's a polite request, or, in the case of the parental please, a polite command.  Because the demand is tempered by courtesy, the hope is that the person to whom the please is directed will be more compliant. Civility and courtesy are forms of respect and ways of acknowledging the freedom of our peers and children to decline our request, but the expectation is that they will not.  So using the word in this way during Lent is a reminder to treat everyone with dignity.

Then there is the "please" that is really sort of a thank you - the response to "Would you like me to get that for you?" is "Yes, please."  Probably a foreshortening of "if you please," or "if it pleases you," this please is more closely related to the root word pleasure - as in "it would give me pleasure to accept that dessert." This usage reminds me that we are dependent on the kindness of others.  During this past week of modified bedrest, I have had many offers for help from well-meaning friends. While I don't feel incapacitated by the doctor's orders - I have only had to back out of events that would require a lot of activity (and fun: like the Seabee Ball); I don't have to refrain from doing laundry - I know that people, myself included, like to be of service to others.  I don't like asking for help or admitting that I need help, so accepting these offers of assistance when the baby is born will be a sort of Lenten penance to acknowledge my neediness, my inability to do everything I want to do. I am trying to think of ways to accept help from those who offer. I'd really like someone to come scour my bathrooms or fold and put away laundry, but that would require real sacrifice on my part and theirs.  Something that would genuinely be useful is if someone would entertain my younger children for a few hours away from home.  Another idea I had is if, instead of making a dinner because my husband likes to cook and because I hate to ask someone to cook for a family of 8 including 3 teenage boys, someone would make a stack of sandwiches to send in the mornings for the kids' lunches because I'm sure the mornings will be more chaotic than ever if Baby wants to nurse or has a diaper explosion right before we have to walk out the door.

Back to please: The next usage I thought of relates to the verb form: "It pleases me to eat chocolate." This usage does not seem to be very Lenten in spirit. To recall some of my past interest in language, I remember that please comes from the Latin "placere" - to please - and perhaps is related to "placare" - to placate or satisfy. To gladden, to prefer, to wish, and to provide contentment are synonyms with varying shades of meaning. Pleasing ourselves is one of our basic instincts.  What things give me pleasure? That's a relatively easy question to answer: aside from sensual pleasures like chocolate, wine, and coffee, the things that please me are things like free time by myself, doing well at a job or at making something or at running - success, in other words; or having a really stimulating conversation or attending classes or reading a really good book - mental stimulation.  These things all center around me and my wants and my pride.  What things should give me pleasure? The idea of "ordering our desires" seems sort of archaic but would perhaps be a good focus for Lent.  One of my weaknesses is mourning what I lack or am prevented from doing rather than being grateful for what I am able to do or have. Lent is a good time to refrain from desiring the pleasures I don't have to taking pleasure in the bounties I do have (which relates to the next phrase, "Thank you"). But even more during Lent, I should reorder my desires and actions from doing what pleases me to seeking to please others - for isn't that what pleases God?  Little things that are mortifications for me, like cleaning off the counters and table before my husband gets home, sitting down to read with the youngers instead of reading my own books - or the internet, or agreeing to transport the teenagers to some social function that requires getting into the car at 11:00 pm, are easy ways to please my family.  It would please me to find some way to serve the community, to do some good work for those who need help, but I need to discern if that is something that I should postpone in order to keep up with the demands of the family right now.

Finally, there is the please of supplication, the "please" of a dying man, the "please" of the beggar, the "please" of the petitioner who fears his prayer will not be answered.  Actually, this was the "please" I was thinking of  during Mass.  "Please, thank you and sorry" are basically 3/4s of the types of prayer in the ACTS acronym that I used with the kids when they were younger: Adoration, Contrition, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. Contrition was part of the emphasis of the homily on Sunday. Only Adoration is missing  -- and perhaps Pope Francis should have added it explicitly to his speech to families, but I think his intent was to say that using these words is how we show our adoration, our love, for others. As someone who appreciates "acts of service" as my love language, I can justify the omission of "I love you" from his list of words.  But having family members who thrive with those words of affirmation, I sometimes need to be reminded to use them more often, along with other words of appreciation and praise.

The connection between asking, "please help me," and love is the faith that someone you love is going to answer your request because he will want to please you. This Lent, I want to use the word "please" as a trusting supplicant, not only if I need to reach out for the assistance my helpful friends have offered, but also in faith.  How often do I offer up petitions that I really don't expect to be answered? Or how often do I fail to petition God to help me with struggles because I don't really believe my little concerns are worth his care? Or because they are selfish concerns? How often do I forget to petition God for intentions I've promised to pray for - for that friend's sick grandmother, for the family member who lost a job, for another family's adoption procedure, for my godchildren, for my own children?  Some people are naturals at being prayer warriors.  Were I to be a nun, I would never enter a contemplative order; I'd be something active like a Dominican or Benedictine. Work, then pray, might be my motto.  "Beseeching" is not something I think to do often.  I know people who have a list of prayer intentions that they bring to the labor and delivery room, and then they offer up their contractions for all these needs of others.  I rarely have the composure of mind to think about offering up labor pains. But to remember to pray for these intentions is both an act of love for these people and an act of trust in God's care.  I suspect my weaknesses in petitioning stem from a lack of trust, a weakness of faith, that these prayers will be answered favorably.  My faith suffers from a kind of stoicism - or deism? - that perceives God as uninvolved in the here and now sufferings of the world. I believe He is grieved by our sins and pleased by our sacrifices, but rarely do I trust that He is going to work miracles because of my prayers for help and intercession.  But part of the message of Lent is to put on the sackcloth and ashes and become like a beggar for God's mercy and intervention in our lives.  Repent and believe. Convert me, O Lord, help me to "turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel." Please hear my prayers.