Nothing starts off Lent like some good old fashioned self-reflection. For the Protestants, et al, Lent is a 40-day Catholic season that runs from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday and represents the guiltiest time of the year. As if the Church weren’t trying during other Holy seasons or even during Ordinary Time, you’re supposed to abstain from all the fun things in life: sex, liquefied merriment, etc.
Beyond this part, and as is true of most of the faith, there are also a ton more regulations. Chief among them, you need to give up an indulgence for the Lenten season. For example, I can’t give up domestic violence, driving a BMW, or running the Commerce Department because I don’t normally do those things (though if I wait long enough, I think I may get a shot at Commerce after enough withdrawals). So, I would have to give up Subway, Fiber One Bars, or Starbucks (the things that keep me going).
Additionally, (insert black and white photo of nun savagely beating heretics with a yardstick before a chalkboard and portrait of current President Warren Harding) Catholics cannot eat meat on Ash Wednesday nor on any Friday during Lent. What I bring you this mini-Catechism lesson for is to explicate the power of the Catholic Church.
I haven’t been to Church for anything other than a funeral since the last Pope died, and before that it was Good Friday a half a decade ago. Despite being a lax Catholic and sinning all the way to the bank, whenever Lent comes around, I have a hard time not following these rules. I often wonder why. True, I am a fan of pomp and circumstance, but if that were the case my ass would be in a pew every day of the week, Lent or not. I’m also not one of the lax Catholics who tries to show his colors when the time is right like grabbing a candle for Midnight Mass at Christmas or displaying the ultimate “I’m Catholic and you’re not” advertisement—the ashen forehead on this holiday.
Instead, I say it’s left over, authoritarian indoctrination that once a year rears its head and ensures that I feel guilty enough about enough of things that I put down the burger and pick up pasta on those few days before Easter. (I should add, I feel that my hatred of fish makes Lent a period of martyrdom for me every year, as well.) So, I raise a glass (so long as it is not wine, beer, or beef bouillon and toast the most effective top-down, rule-bound organization in the history of the World. Sure, Benedict, I’m not going to Church much anymore, but damn it darn it, you must be doing something right.
-Ginger
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Speaking of which did you notice Joe Biden in the dozen pictures taken of him today standing proudly with ashes on his forehead? The Catholic Church, was I am sure, loving that.
ReplyDeleteYa, and given the sheer size of his forehead, I imagine several things happened: 1) they ran out of ashes to put a cross on his gigantic forehead; 2) the Vatican bartered with him...he could tithe less in exchange for future advertising rights to the billboard above his eyebrows; 3) to continue last night's competition, Pelosi hands the archbisop a Sharpie and demands hers be better than the Vice President's.
ReplyDelete-Ginger