Then I met Erin Kinsella and the next thing I knew I was committing to meatless Fridays not only for this Lent, but for all of the coming year and right through Lent 2020.

Kinsella describes the 54 Fridays initiative as “an invitation to holiness.” She has taken the concept of a Lenten fast and expanded it to literally encompass 54 Fridays — from March 10, the first Friday of Lent, all the way to Good Friday on April 10, 2020.

The fast can encompass whatever gives participants a sense of not being fully satisfied in some way, as long as it is done as an offering to God recognition that only He can truly satisfy. It also includes a call to prayer, such as praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet. After talking to Erin, I decided to give it a try. I’m not alone.

According to Erin, the Director of Campus Ministry at the Newman Centre Catholic Mission at the University of Toronto, 334 people have joined the 54 Fridays Facebook group. They are mainly from Toronto, but also come from places like Nigeria, Iran, Mauritius, Slovakia, the United Kingdom, the United States, Italy and Peru.

“There have been new people added to the group every single day since we started, which is hugely encouraging because it seems that the call to prayer and fasting is deeply resonating with people who love the Church and want to respond to the challenges of our time, but don’t know where to start or what to do,” she says.

I’m participating by abstaining from meat on Fridays — a tall order for a carnivore like me — and by avoiding refined or added sugars. Not long after I started, I came across a reflection by Pope Francis from a recent Vatican summit on sustainable development. He said that in order to find a shared response to the cry of the Earth and to the cry of the poor, “those of us who are religious need to open up the treasures of our best traditions in order to engage in a true and respectful dialogue on how to build the future of our planet.”

Among the United Nations’ 17 sustainable goals to achieve “peace and prosperity for people and the planet” by 2030, responsible consumption and food production jumped out at me as being personally achievable through the practice of fasting — no doubt “one of the treasures of our best traditions.”

My initial reason to go meatless during the 54 Friday initiative was entirely spiritual, but now the environmental aspect has provided added motivation.

According to a recent United Nations report compiled by scientists from 70 countries, meat consumption is driving up carbon emissions, with beef production and distribution being the worst offender in generating greenhouse gases. As a society, we “plough through this planet’s finite resources as if there is no tomorrow,” said Joyce Msyua, Acting Executive Director of UN Environment.

North Americans are accustomed to abundance. Trips to the supermarket let us buy pretty much whatever we desire. But awareness of the planet’s environment should be spurring a mindset shift. We must practice the virtue of temperance when buying meat, realizing that the Earth’s resources are finite.

In Laudato Si’, Pope Francis says we act as if there “an infinite quantity of energy and resources are available, that it is possible to renew them quickly and that the negative effects of the exploitation of the natural order can be easily absorbed.” He calls it a false notion that should be reversed.

Responsible consumption should also include a commitment to cut food waste in half. According to Second Harvest, more than half of all food produced in Canada is lost or wasted. This spoiled food is responsible for 56.6 million tonnes of “carbon dioxide-equivalent” emissions. The need for change is critical.

My commitment to the 54 Fridays initiative came out of prayer and a sense of wanting to do something to support the Church in the midst of all its struggles. I began the fast hoping to reap spiritual dividends. It is an unexpected bonus to learn that, in my small way, I am also playing a role in improving the state and health of “our common home.”

“I spend my money on what I consider to be important,” he wrote. “Look at the financial statement of any organization, or family, or individual, to find out what is considered important.”

That is to say, our Visa or MasterCard statements can be a guide when we try to understand what tangible items or causes we emphasize the most. For many of us, those statements would read like a menu of our favourite consumer pleasures.

Consumerism clutters our connection to God, and it degrades our inherent human dignity by elevating the premise that we must have certain material goods in order to measure up to societal standards. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Does it spark joy?” This is the fundamental question Japanese tidying expert and global sensation Marie Kondo enthusiastically poses to clients when helping them decide whether to keep or throw out clutter-causing items in a living space. Her strategic approach to doing something most people hate — getting rid of possessions — has come to life in her smash Netflix series, Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, based on her New York Times bestseller The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

Kondo’s method is simple. Wade through your mess according to the following categories: clothing, then books, then paper documents, then komono — which translates to “miscellaneous” in Japanese — comprising items stashed away in the bathroom, kitchen and garage. 

The final, and often hardest category, is sentimental items. At each stage, put all items in a pile and keep only what “brings you joy.” 

I can’t say that I’ve fully embraced this tidying method, but I have dabbled in it. Watching the series spurred me to clean my pantry and linen closet, which had both slowly been falling into a state of overloaded untidyness.

I can see why Kondo has a cult-like following of adoring fans. Developing a regular tidying strategy is a sound idea. But keeping a home organized will only work over the long-term if we acknowledge and work through our obsession with stuff. If we continually bring more and more into the home as a result of obsessive shopping habits, the clutter will soon re-emerge. The real solution is to buy less. 

As we enter the Lenten season, I’ve seen multiple calls to action on social media to try to avoid buying anything new during our pre-Easter fast, as a “consumer penance” of sorts. 

Consumerism is the root of the problem. It spurs our compulsion to buy because we mistakenly feel that buying things will “bring us joy.” Kondo’s series is powerful because it highlights how emotionally connected we are to our possessions.

In one episode, we meet Mario, who once owned more than 160 pairs of sneakers.

“When I became an adult and as I started having an income (shoes) were a priority,” he said. “And I started buying, and it got out of control. Ninety-five per cent of them were never used, never unlaced, let alone tried on.”

By the end of the episode, he reduced his prized collection to 45 pairs, and he and his wife created space in their home to welcome a new baby. 

In his pastoral letter, Cardinal Collins writes: “It is interesting that we are often called consumers. What a shame it is that we can be identified as people who are simply consuming the goods of the Earth. 

“Inevitably, if that consumption becomes the mark of a greedy life, then we will ourselves be consumed and possessed by the goods that we consume. It is far better to see all such things in proper perspective. The time, talent and treasure that we briefly enjoy are gifts to be accepted with gratitude, and used generously. If we do so, then that posture of detachment allows us truly to be free.” 

Pope Francis echoes these sentiments. “Consumerism is a great disease today” he said a couple of months ago during a morning Mass in the chapel of his residence. “I am not saying that we all do this, no. But consumerism, spending more than we need, is a lack of austerity in life; this is an enemy of generosity.” 

The notion that material objects can bring joy into our lives is no surprise — books can thrill, movies entertain and home furnishings help to enhance our living space. 

But when the continual accumulation of these items starts to take priority in our lives, they become little more than a distraction from what brings meaning — and true joy — to our lives.

It was designed to resemble Iceland’s basalt rock columns that were formed over the ages by the cooling and solidification of lava and are scattered across a landscape that is home to 130 volcanoes.

Lutheranism, a branch of Protestantism, is the country’s official religion. Iceland’s constitution enshrines religious freedom and requires the state to safeguard the Lutheran Church as the country’s national church. It is by far the most practised religion in Iceland, but Catholicism, while practised by a small minority of the population, has long and interesting roots in this island nation.

Hallgrimskirkja, for example, owes its height to the fact that the leaders of the Church of Iceland were determined to dwarf the historic Catholic cathedral. Known as Landakotskirkja in Icelandic, which translates to Christ the King Cathedral, it was built in the neo-Gothic style in the 1920s. The whole of Iceland is made up of one Catholic diocese comprising seven parishes with approximately 13,000 registered Catholics — with most of the country’s Catholic priests imported from Europe.

On a recent trip to the “land of ice and fire,” I was surprised to learn that Irish monks were likely the first inhabitants of the island, arriving in the ninth century. This is according to the Book of Icelanders, a medieval text that describes the country’s origin stories. Given the country’s link to Nordic paganism, this was unexpected news. After all, it’s common knowledge that Iceland was settled by Vikings who practised pagan beliefs in keeping with Norse mythology. The gods they worshipped included Thor and Odin, names most North Americans associate today with comic book characters.

Our bus driver, a friendly Icelander named Eavarr, said his ancestors many generations ago were part of the National Assembly, called the Althing, which decided Christianity would become the official religion of Iceland, replacing paganism around 1000 AD. He also tells us about ancient stones called “Christianity rocks,” lava rocks that have been around since that time. These rocks can be found in Thingvellir National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site where parliamentary meetings were once held.

According to a history compiled by the Catholic diocese of Iceland, the National Assembly contacted representatives of the world Church in Rome, asking them to bring Iceland under their ecclesiastical rule. In 1056, the first Icelandic bishop, Ísleifur Gissurarson, was ordained. The island remained Catholic for 500 years until the Protestant Reformation reached Iceland in 1550 and the king declared Lutheranism to be the state religion. 

When the Catholic bishop refused to renounce Rome, he was arrested and executed. All ties were then cut with Rome and Catholicism was outlawed until the second half of the19th century, when a small number of missionary priests and nuns arrived from Europe.

During our travels, we quickly discovered that because Iceland is an island and much of its food is imported, eating is expensive. Where a modest lunch in Canada costs about $10, in Iceland you pay about double that for a small sandwich. But one option for affordable meals we came across was a relatively new food hall in downtown Reykjavik. Upon entering, I noticed that the Mexican eatery featured a friendly painting adorning the front of its counter: Our Lady of Guadalupe. The man behind the counter said he had no idea why Our Lady was featured. To him, it was just art. Regardless, it was comforting to see a familiar face in such an unfamiliar place. 

Another familiar name we encountered was J.R.R. Tolkien, the Catholic author of The Lord of the Rings fantasy series. The story goes that Tolkien learned Icelandic — although he never visited the country — so he could gain inspiration from Icelandic Viking sagas, some tales of which are found in his novels. 

In 1989, more than 1,100 years after Catholic monks first set foot on the island, St. John Paul II became the first pope to visit Iceland. He acknowledged the past division but noted how Iceland’s history and culture were shaped by the Gospel since the arrival of the first Europeans.

“Because of the rich spiritual heritage reflected in the treasure of poetry and saga which your ancestors bequeathed to you, Iceland has much to say to a world that yearns to be inspired by the truth and to create a society of justice, peace and universal harmony,” he said.  

Visiting the island 30 years later, I think the same holds true today.

Forest bathing, which originated in Japan in the 1980s, is the practice of “bathing in the forest atmosphere” or “taking in the forest through your senses.” The term comes from the Japanese shinrin-yoku — shinrin means “forest” and yoku translates to “bath.” 

There’s no actual water — or traditional bathing — involved. The focus is on being present in nature in order to reap a variety of health benefits linked to silent contemplation amongst the trees. Whether breathing in the scent of fresh pine or admiring the beauty of rows of Douglas firs that seem to tower straight up into the clouds, researchers say the benefits include reductions in stress and blood pressure, stronger immune and cardiovascular systems, increased energy and improved mood and concentration. 

On a recent visit to Iceland I was struck by the absence of trees amidst a terrain of lava fields, fjords, glaciers and hot springs. In stark contrast with Canada’s lush landscape, the “land of ice and fire” is dotted sporadically with trees. Why? One explanation is that after Vikings discovered Iceland some 1,100 years ago, settlers axed most of the trees for firewood and to build homes and boats — and growing back the lush forests of long ago has been a slow process. 

In Canada, home to nine per cent of the world’s forests, the concept of forest bathing is gaining popularity. In September, Markham became the first city in the country to create a designated forest therapy trail that, in part, can be led by a guide from the Global Institute of Forest Therapy, a non-profit that promotes using nature to build mindfulness. 

For Catholics, escaping into nature for short periods of time is often an important component of taking a retreat, where peace and quiet allow us to discern more effectively. When I visited Villa Maria Guadalupe, the retreat centre run by the Sisters of Life in Stamford, Conn., one of the most effective aspects of the retreat was wandering the grounds amidst the trees as I contemplated an upcoming life transition. 

Spirituality and nature go together, as does the resulting sense of inspiration and renewal. In the Catholic tradition, trees signify the cyclical nature of creation — new life, but also death, as the cross on which Jesus was crucified came from a tree. 

When he was a young priest, St. Pope John Paul II often led groups of young people into the forests of Poland to help them feel closer to God through nature.

“Our very contact with nature has a deep restorative power; contemplation of its magnificence imparts peace and serenity,” he once said.

Historically, hermits who desired prayerful lives of seclusion would retreat to the forests. For me, this brings to mind St. Giles from Greece, well-known as Giles the Hermit, who spent many years living deep in a forest “engaged in the contemplation of heavenly things.” 

While Pope Francis doesn’t mention forest bathing in Laudato Si’, he writes that St. Francis of Assisi asked that part of the friary garden always be left untouched, “so that wild flowers and herbs could grow there, and those who saw them could raise their minds to God, the Creator of such beauty.” 

Scientific researchers are proving the health benefits from spending time in nature, but the realization that nature is a beautiful gift from God should be enough to fill us with immense gratitude, a feeling linked inextricably with elevated levels of happiness. That spending time in nature makes us feel good is no surprise. For science to now assert the positive impact this has on our health is a bonus and should keep us going back for more. As Canadians, we’re surrounded by trees and should take advantage of the many accessible forests, parks and ravines. 

Mother Teresa once said: “We need to find God, and He cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature — trees, grass — grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…. We need silence to be able to touch souls.”

As the darkness of winter descends, we should consider forest bathing as a way to optimize the fleeting hours of sunshine. With a good pair of boots, I know I will. 

Speaking at an event organized by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Macron wanted to make the point that parenthood should be a choice.

“One of the critical issues we have regarding the African demography is the fact that this is not a chosen fertility,” he said. “Present me the lady who decided, being perfectly educated, to have seven, eight or nine children.” 

In response, about 20,000 perfectly educated moms — largely from the United States and France — mobilized on Twitter. They used the hashtag #PostcardsForMacron to post photos of the large families they chose to have, along with details of their educational backgrounds. The hashtag started with Catherine R. Pakaluk, a professor of social research and economics at the Catholic University of America, who shared a photo of herself and six of her eight children. Accompanying the snapshot, she wrote: “PhD Harvard (2010), AM Harvard (2002), BA UPenn (1998). Eight children by choice. Keep it going ladies, add your own.”

As I watched post after post flood social media, it was clear that these bold women who opted to have large families should be celebrated — not judged — for committing to family life. Motherhood, after all, is the very definition of selflessness. 

Pakaluk has a vested interest in this subject. Catholic News Agency reported that her academic research area focuses in part on the effects of fertility on economic development. And while she acknowledged that Macron’s words may have been taken out of context — he was referring to women in the developing world, not the United States or Western Europe — she said his comments “represent an underlying view common in contemporary culture,” namely that no intelligent woman would want to have a large family.

Perhaps Macron had no intention of belittling the many women who make the choice to have large families, but he unwittingly highlighted the issue of how these women have been judged by society. His statement was simply a tipping point. 

No doubt, having a large family is countercultural in the 21st century. As of 2016, the fertility rate in Canada had dropped to 1.54 children per woman. There are a multitude of reasons for this trend. One of them is that Canadian women spend more time pursuing higher education and wait to get married until they feel established in their careers — that is, if they’ve found a mate by that time. From there, it can be a race against the biological clock to have one or two kids — let alone seven or more. 

One Canadian mom who defies the status quo is Lisa Canning, a Toronto mother of seven children under the age of nine. Canning wears many hats as an expert in parenting, interior design and lifestyle. She posted using the #PostcardsForMacron hashtag, saying: “I run a business with my seven kids in tow so I’d like to say to Monsieur Macron that it’s very possible to have a large family and be an educated woman. I think people don’t realize the incredible work that goes into mothering and the incredible fulfillment that can come from motherhood.”

When Canning got married in 2007, she says she was terrified of having one child, let alone seven. But she and her husband used the skill of discernment carefully — taking it “one glorious babe at a time.” She describes her family life as “full of joy,” and relies on the emotional, spiritual and physical support of family, friends and other caregivers as she and her husband navigate the ups and downs of life. 

Has she ever felt judged by society for having a large family? You bet. 

“When I was a younger mom, I felt judged for being open to a large family,” she said. “I would take comments about my lifestyle quite personally, and often the comments of others would weigh heavily upon my confidence level. 

“But now with more experience, not only in parenting children, but confidence in feeling comfortable in the person I have become, the comments don’t bother me as much. I think the more confidence we have that we are walking the path that God has intended for us, negative comments get easier to put aside.”

It may not be the path for everyone, but for those who follow a vocation of exponential motherhood, I say kudos. Mothers, after all, have enough to worry about without having to answer to the President of France. 

The annual Season of Creation, launched in 1989 by the Eastern Orthodox Church and endorsed by Pope Francis in 2015, calls on Christians worldwide to pray and take action to help care for the gift of creation. It wrapped up on Oct. 4, the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of ecology.

Embracing the spirit of the month, I joined a friend at a do-it-yourself evening called Plant Nite, where people gather to create tabletop mini-gardens. Our materials included a vintage-looking wooden drawer and a variety of exotic-looking succulents, decorative rocks and stones, colourful reindeer moss and a tiny hedgehog to sit atop a piece of bark to give the display a woodland feel.

The instructor, or master gardener, led the groups of millennials through our steps. We started off by lining the bottom of the drawer with small rocks for drainage and then adding a type of cactus soil that provides the dry conditions these plants require. Then we planted our succulents and arranged the moss to create a mini-garden which, although no Eden, was nonetheless a proud creation. We left feeling refreshed and renewed, and somehow closer to nature after an evening of casual conversation and exercising our green thumbs.

At complete odds with this creative experience was a situation I had been trying to resolve in the previous days. I had purchased a couple of yoga mats for pilates and general exercise.  I was left breathless by what came next — and not in a good way. Removing the mats from the package, I was overwhelmed by the smell.

To rid my living room of the strong odour from the synthetic material, I busted out a home-made, essential-oil and sprayed this lemon blend directly on the mats. It was to no avail. They mats still reeked, so I left them on my balcony overnight hoping to remove the stench. Nothing. 

It was an unnatural stench, which I thought can’t be good for human health. I was right.

I was disheartened to discover that plastic mats like these often are made from polyvinyl chloride, commonly known as PVC — widely considered to be the most toxic consumer plastic on the market. I also learned that this type of plastic is softened with phthalates, a group of carcinogenic chemicals linked to reproductive abnormalities and infertility, according to Environmental Defence Canada. The Canadian Cancer Society’s website indicates that phthalates aren’t chemically attached to the plastic products that contain them, which means they can leach into the air we breathe. 

It’s shocking that this toxin is in products being sold to unsuspecting consumers. It’s a particularly hard bitter pill to swallow when these chemicals are found in products intended to improve health. This material also harms the environment. You can’t recycle it and disposing of it by incineration releases the cancer-causing chemical dioxin. 

Six days later, the mats still stunk, so I returned them. 

It’s not just some types of workout mats that contain phthalates. The chemical is found in an array of products, including shower curtains,  toys, clothing, paint, cosmetics, bedding and food packaging. 

According to Health Canada, current evidence indicates the level of phthalates most Canadians encounter is not harmful. This opinion is not shared by Environmental Defence, a Canadian advocacy group which claims we’ll pay a health and environmental cost by failing to ban phthalates. Via email, I was told, “Health Canada continues to review the scientific literature on phthalates and monitors the actions of its international regulatory partners.” 

We often place trust in brands we know well, but this isn’t enough to ensure products are free of toxic materials. The lesson here is that it’s up to us to become smart shoppers. I’ve learned, for example, there are PVC-free mats out there, but it takes extra leg work to find them.

The month-long Season of Creation may be over, but my appreciation and enjoyment of the natural world didn’t end with it. I have resolved to be more aware of how the products I use daily impact my health, the health of loved ones and the long-term health of the planet.

As Pope Francis writes in Laudato Si’, “There is a nobility in the duty to care for creation through little daily actions…. We must not think that these efforts are not going to change the world. They benefit society, often unbeknown to us, for they call forth a goodness which, albeit unseen, inevitably tends to spread.”

We all are called to be responsible stewards of God’s creation.