Have holy water, will travel

My Mother always told me never to talk religion or politics, but oh well, I'm in the mood.

Ah, the Lenten season is upon us!

For those of you who aren't familiar with the Catholic season of Lent and find yourself curious, please allow this semi-lapsed Catholic girl to enlighten you on the ins and outs of this exciting season filled with self-denial and meatless Fridays.

It all begins on Ash Wednesday, a day where Catholics fast by forgoing meat and eating one meal for sustenance or two small ones, depending.  I love these strange amendments to the rules.  Who makes them up?  If whoever's who can amend the meal rule, surely they can reverse the rule about women not being priests?  (Don't get me started.)

I had mac and cheese and Breyer's peanut butter cup ice cream for dinner this Ash Wednesday.  I'm not sure how many meals that counts as. 

On Ash Wednesday we go to church to get ashes rubbed onto our foreheads in the form of a cross.  As he ashes you, the priest murmurs "Remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return," or something to that effect.  Very Gothic, I always think.  Macabre.  Kind of gives me the chills.  I'm not sure if they are good chills, though.  I don't know about you, but I'm in no hurry to return to dust.

The Lenten season lasts until Easter Sunday, when the Easter Bunny brings everyone Hershey Kisses, Cadbury Creme Eggs and hides miniature cans of Bud Light wrapped in colorful tin foil around the yard. 

Oh, he sometimes brings Marshmellow Peeps, too.  But I don't care for those.  Hear that, Easter Bunny?  No Peeps this year!  (Is it inappropriate for my sister and I to continue to request easter baskets well into my late twenties and her early thirties?  Nah.)

During the season of Lent we reflect upon the journey and message of Jesus and refrain from eating meat each Friday if we are between the ages of 15 and 58.  Although recently in Boston they deemed it ok to eat corned beef on Saint Patrick's day because it fell on a Friday.  What the?  Like people don't make fun of us Catholics enough already?  Seriously.

During Lent we also attempt to abstain from something meaningful, in the name of God.  The Odd Broad always has difficulty sticking to these resolutions.  I usually try to refrain from swearing, but this always winds up being an insurmountable challenge.  In the end I usually water it down to only being allowed to say shit, then everything but the F word, then who am I kidding it's time to think of something else to abstain from, for fuck's sake!

The same has happened with giving up drinking (No drinking at all!  Well, only on Fridays!  OK, only on Fridays, Saturdays, and sometimes Thursdays.  But not Sundays.  And only wine, but not good wine, terrible wine.  There.  I'm totally abstaining.  Hiccup.) 

Each Ash Wednesday I find myself peeking at the people coming out of line, post ashing, trying to judge the proportions of their crosses to see which line I should aim for.  Inevitably, I am always off.  Yesterday  I spotted a man with a tiny cross the size of a dime leaving the line on the left, so I hopped into that line.  Two seconds later I emerged with a cross that was approximately three inches long by three inches wide, Charlie Manson style.  Ok, I could work with this, I have bangs...

I like to think The Big Guy was chuckling at me from above, "Silly mortal, trying to get away with tiny ashes!"

This past Ash Wednesday I got my ashes on my lunch break at Saint Patrick's Cathedral.  This could pretty much be considered the drive-thru option as far as ashes go.  You're in, you're ashed, and you're out, all in under two minutes.  Truly the value meal of ashes.  More bang for your buck.  This is very different from the Ash Wednesdays of my youth, where we would sit through a 45 minute mass before getting to the main event. 

I've also received ashes in Queens, at a church that's over one hundred years old.  It's a lovely church, but if you ever find yourself there on a holy day of obligation, watch out!  You are about to witness some serious hijinks. 

You don't believe me?

One Palm Sunday a few years ago, while the priest was delivering his sermon, he felt it necessary to lecture his parishioners on the manners and etiquette of receiving the blessed palms.  A stern, chastising, priestly pep-talk, if you will:  "Only take one.  That's one palm per person.  This is not a buffet at your favorite diner, you cannot come back for seconds.  And please, no pushing, no shoving, we want to keep this...orderly and respectful." 

I suppressed a giggle.  I mean, I periodically feel like New York is a freak show, but this was downright odd.  It wasn't until I had reached the blessed palm buffet myself that I actually understood why the priest had deemed such a warning necessary.  People were acting insane!  Ca-RAY-zay!  Grown adults were pushing, cutting children in line, grabbing wildly for the palms.  This was mayhem, people, absolute bedlam!

This unusual episode made me very homesick for my hometown, where churches were repressed and civilized, where people didn't push in line to receive The Body of Christ and Palm Sundays posed no threat of physical harm.  Oh, and I'm not afraid someone is going to swipe my purse when I go up for communion there, either. 

I'll never forget my first Ash Wednesday in New York, at this same church in Queens.  After I received my ashes I went to go back to my seat, assuming there would be an ending to the mass.  But alas, how very wrong I was.  After receiving my ashes I was carried away on a wave, a wave in a terrible ocean of ashed-up Catholic maniacs.  I was in a veritable mosh pit of Catholics, fighting to make their way out of the door.  Hmmm?  Don't we have to, like, finish the mass?  What was this all about?  Was there a hidden camera somewhere?  Was I being punked?

Who WERE these wacky NY Catholics?  What kind of weirdo pushes and cuts in line at church?  While I'm at it, what kind of a nut leaves their cell phone on and, worse than that, answers it during the middle of the sermon?

The first time my husband went with me and my family to church was equally memorable.  He's not Catholic, and he wasn't sure if he could go up and receive the Eucharist with everyone else.  We decided he probably could, what was the big deal, right?  He went behind me in line, and when we got back to the pew he knelt down beside me. 

"What do I do?"  He whispered. 

"I don't know, say a little prayer?"  I answered. 

"No, what do I do with THIS?" 

Horrified, I looked down to see the Holy Eucharist in the palm of his hand.  Brian had carried The Body of Christ back to his seat.  What, was he going to take it home and spread hummus on it? 

"Eat it, quick!"  I whispered.  "It's blessed!  Just swallow it!"  Jeesh. 

We ended up getting married in the Catholic church and had to go to a one day seminar, to prepare.  While there we had to answer a series of questions, ranging in subject.  One of them was "What role do you think God will play in your marriage?"  I was taking this all very seriously.  When it came time for us to read our answer to our partner, mine was something earnest and heartfelt like, "God will hopefully be Someone we can turn to for strength, in happy and bad times, etc..."

What was my future husband's answer?  God will be playing the role of Himself.

I realize he was trying to be funny, but let's face it, it had been an exhausting day.  I started to weep, just a lil'.

My husband sort of remains bemused when it comes to the more mysterious side of Catholicism.  Like that time we were flying to Louisiana in a propeller plane during a tropical storm.  Nightmare, anyone?  We drank margaritas until they ran out of them, and in between terrified gulps I deemed it necessary to apply holy water to both of our foreheads.  Why did I have holy water upon my person, you might ask?  I don't know, I just did.

It's a mystery.

I love the mysticism, the quiet routine, the safety of it all.  I love that I can talk to Mary, the Blessed Mother, and the plethora of Saints and all they represent.  (Did you know there's a Saint for dentists?  And actors?  And exotic dancers?  OK, I think I'm making that last one up, but there probably should be.)

So I got ashed.  But I wasn't doing it for the Catholic church, I was doing it for the Big Guy Upstairs.  The ashes always leave me feeling shy, exposed.  Like I'm telling the world about a secret I don't usually talk about. 

Of course, nobody really said anything.  None of my coworkers said anything when I wiped my nose after touching my forehead and had a nose full of ash, either.  Thanks for that, guys. 

The odd thing is, after reading this, I can see how people might view me as either a religious fanatic, or a son-of-a-bitching bastard on her way to hell in a hand basket.  I am neither. 

I like my religion but just happen to find it...eccentric and sometimes infuriating and always familiar.  Like the strange smelling Great Aunt who you don't want to visit but once you get to her house you're somehow glad you came.  Because she baked cookies.  And pie. 

I don't mean to make fun of it, but I guess I kind of am.  Perversely, when a non-Catholic starts ragging on Catholicism it's like a kick in my nuts.  Figuratively speaking.  Much in the way it's ok to make fun of my own family but the minute someone else does it's no longer funny?

When all is said and done, I brake for the Big Guy Upstairs.  I brake for prayers to Mary, I brake for lighting candles in church when I'm feeling scared, and I brake for drunkenly anointing my husband's forehead with holy water on propeller plane rides.

OK, kids, now let's get out there and hunt for some mini beer cans!

Comments

[bloggadocio]

Oh how I loved St. Patrick's Cathedral's Ashes-to-go program. seriously though, it's hard coming up with something new every year. I'm doing soda, for definitely not the first time.

[The Triumphant Red Sox Fan]

Hi there - Someone recently came to my Red Sox blog via the link at your site, so I surfed in and started reading. Love this post about Ash Wednesday and Other Catholic Things. I started another site over at St. Blog's about some of my non-orthodox Catholic leanings; check it out if you'd like (http://denmother.stblogs.com/). Cheers!