I aim to use these next 40 days to grow.
“The English educated and political classes still fall into the categories of those who Know Best — and who want to impose their austere tastes on everyone else — and those who feel it is no business of theirs to boss and control smokers and drinkers and druggies. Tony Blair — long before the invasion of Iraq — showed himself in his true colours by making a public announcement that we should not give money to beggars in case they spent it on some substance of which he happened to disapprove. It was almost an exact echo of the prig who asked Dr Johnson, ‘What signifies giving halfpence to beggars? They only lay it out in gin or tobacco.’ Johnson spoke for Liberty and England when he trenchantly replied: ‘And why should they be denied such sweeteners of their existence? It is surely very savage to refuse them every possible avenue to pleasure reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without gilding.”
--A.N. Wilson
Lent is hard upon us. I use the word hard because weather forecasters have predicted that the high on Ash Wednesday here in Western North Carolina will be 21 degrees, with the low set at zero or below. February 18th will be our coldest day of winter and may set records for frigidity.
During the Forty Days of Lent, Catholics and some other Christians fast, abstain from meat on certain days, endure certain self-imposed penances, and distribute alms among the less fortunate. (It’s forty days from Ash Wednesday to Easter because Sundays are feast days and so not included in the days allotted for fasting and penance).
The Church’s Lenten regulations for fasting are lenient, laughably so to anyone on a diet. On Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, for example, Catholics between the ages of 18 and 59 should fast, meaning that they can eat one full meatless meal (fish is acceptable) and two smaller meals that equal the full meal. For the life of me, I could never deduce how that design constituted a fast. I am 63 years old, and this “fasting” schedule constitutes my normal diet. And what if someone’s usual full meal consists of an hour grazing the Golden Corral? Catholics are also required to go meatless on the Fridays of Lent, which for those of us who go meatless every Friday means little.
Penance and sacrifice are tougher propositions. Catholics should make their “Easter duty” by going to confession. To honor Christ’s suffering and sacrifice, they are also encouraged either to forego some pleasure—a favorite food, coffee, alcohol, candy, and so on—or to take up some new spiritual practice—reading the Bible, spending more time in prayer, attending daily Mass.
Here I must exercise some prudence. As some of you know who have read my essay in Learning As I Go, I am a “Lenten Loser,” meaning I begin my Forty Days with good intentions of reform and penance, but fail to fulfill my resolutions. This year I am in need of a harsh Lent, but don’t want to carry the guilt that comes with failure. Therefore, I am choosing my Lenten penances with some care.
Finally, the Church encourages Catholics to give alms to the poor. In the past, I have paid scant attention to almsgiving and hope this season to rectify that neglect.
So how may I give alms? Though official Church channels exist in terms of charitable donations, this Lenten season I am taking the advice of A.N. Wilson and Samuel Johnson and giving money to certain people I see downtown. There are, for example, the trio of smokers, all elderly, two in wheel chairs, who stand near the public library to practice their vice. There is the younger man, clearly a bit lost in the head, who frequently hangs out near them and bums an occasional cigarette. Then there are the numerous downtown denizens who are either down on their luck or mentally disturbed.
To these I will give small sums of money. (I won’t contribute to the beggar who stands at the bottom of the exit ramp from Route 240 onto Merrimon Avenue, as he constitutes a traffic hazard). How these souls spend the money is their business and not mine.
As Johnson said, “Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without gilding.” Given the weather, my hope is that these people will gild the icy temperatures with a hot sandwich and a cup of coffee.
During the Forty Days of Lent, Catholics and some other Christians fast, abstain from meat on certain days, endure certain self-imposed penances, and distribute alms among the less fortunate. (It’s forty days from Ash Wednesday to Easter because Sundays are feast days and so not included in the days allotted for fasting and penance).
The Church’s Lenten regulations for fasting are lenient, laughably so to anyone on a diet. On Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, for example, Catholics between the ages of 18 and 59 should fast, meaning that they can eat one full meatless meal (fish is acceptable) and two smaller meals that equal the full meal. For the life of me, I could never deduce how that design constituted a fast. I am 63 years old, and this “fasting” schedule constitutes my normal diet. And what if someone’s usual full meal consists of an hour grazing the Golden Corral? Catholics are also required to go meatless on the Fridays of Lent, which for those of us who go meatless every Friday means little.
Penance and sacrifice are tougher propositions. Catholics should make their “Easter duty” by going to confession. To honor Christ’s suffering and sacrifice, they are also encouraged either to forego some pleasure—a favorite food, coffee, alcohol, candy, and so on—or to take up some new spiritual practice—reading the Bible, spending more time in prayer, attending daily Mass.
Here I must exercise some prudence. As some of you know who have read my essay in Learning As I Go, I am a “Lenten Loser,” meaning I begin my Forty Days with good intentions of reform and penance, but fail to fulfill my resolutions. This year I am in need of a harsh Lent, but don’t want to carry the guilt that comes with failure. Therefore, I am choosing my Lenten penances with some care.
Finally, the Church encourages Catholics to give alms to the poor. In the past, I have paid scant attention to almsgiving and hope this season to rectify that neglect.
So how may I give alms? Though official Church channels exist in terms of charitable donations, this Lenten season I am taking the advice of A.N. Wilson and Samuel Johnson and giving money to certain people I see downtown. There are, for example, the trio of smokers, all elderly, two in wheel chairs, who stand near the public library to practice their vice. There is the younger man, clearly a bit lost in the head, who frequently hangs out near them and bums an occasional cigarette. Then there are the numerous downtown denizens who are either down on their luck or mentally disturbed.
To these I will give small sums of money. (I won’t contribute to the beggar who stands at the bottom of the exit ramp from Route 240 onto Merrimon Avenue, as he constitutes a traffic hazard). How these souls spend the money is their business and not mine.
As Johnson said, “Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without gilding.” Given the weather, my hope is that these people will gild the icy temperatures with a hot sandwich and a cup of coffee.