Last night, Mark said that he noticed I no longer celebrate Lent. Initially, I had a snide response in my head about the deconstruction of Christianity in general, but I let that slide and simply said “no, I do not.”
For those not in the know, Lent is the 40 days prior to Easter Sunday, starting on Ash Wednesday. These 6 weeks are symbolic of the time Jesus spent wandering in the desert. The final week is the big one, beginning with Palm Sunday, continuing through Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and finally Easter Sunday. There are important traditions and rituals associated with each of these days. As a good little Catholic and a good little student in a good little Catholic School, I spent a great deal of time learning about Lent and the sacrifice of Jesus. We were told to sacrifice our own vices during these weeks, which led to many children detoxing from television or chocolate.
I haven’t given anything up for Lent in a good long time. Probably, not since high school, when I was last forced to participate in such shenanigans. Another caveat of Lent is that one is not allowed to eat meat on Fridays. I am sure I have been told the reason for this a million times, but I am also sure that it was so stupid I blocked it out of my brain.
And then there is the high holy week, with its feet washing and its stations of the cross and its mourning of Jesus and its celebration of the Resurrection. Do you know what I do on Easter, now? I eat Polish sausage. That is about the only tradition I have carried with me to this point, and it certainly is not a Christian one. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know where it comes from; we’re not even Polish.
I don’t know why him saying that I don’t celebrate Lent any more rubbed me the wrong way. I suppose it was because for two years I have been actively practicing spirituality, not religion, and it frustrates me when people do not see the difference between the two. It frustrates me sometimes when people think I am Catholic, still. I don’t necessarily mind, but I don’t want someone to have an impression of me that is false. I have a friend whose mother will go to her grave believing me to be a Christian, and I will let her live that fantasy. Because if I did not, she would treat me poorly. She would look down upon me.
Because when you are not a Christian, most of them look down upon you. That is one of the sad truths that I learned through my deconstruction. If you truly believe that others are not going to get the glory of God’s heaven because they have not accepted Jesus into their hearts, then that means you think you have somehow earned more than others. And we all know how I feel about those who think they are better than other people.
This morning a friend posted something about how people who let church folk turn them from God do not really have a relationship with their deity, moreso the relationship lies with the church. I can tell you that for me, it was a combination of priests and nuns and good old-fashioned lay people that turned me from a good little Catholic church-going girl into the heretic rebel Pagan you see before you. My relationship may not have been with God, it may have only been with my church- of course, since my deconstruction, I have found myself closer to a higher power now than I ever was praying on my knees at the church’s altar. Although sadly, since I do not subscribe to a singular practice, I am lke Jesus in the desert for 40 days- alone in my quest for spiritual enlightenment.
So no, I no longer celebrate Lent or any of the holidays surrounding it. Easter Sunday is the day I reserve for the start of spring, and little else. I will not give up my vices so that I can share in the suffering of Jesus, I will not avoid meat on Friday for whatever stupid reason they told us in the Bible, and there’s a really good chance I will never go to the Stations of the Cross again. All of that is okay though, because I have found my own path to enlightenment, and I assure you it is much brighter than the dimly lit trail I traversed through Catholicism.
Anyway… I guess that is it for today. It is officially Saint Patrick’s Day weekend, and it is about 9:00 a.m., which means it is time to get myself in gear for the parade and parties that will take up my next two days. I wish you all a lovely weekend, and of course, happy Saint Patrick’s Day!
Ham 'N Eggs- by Brigid Hannon 