Good Friday

There is so much I want to share with you guys, especially about my baby shower last weekend, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.

Even though I've done a terrible job on this blog observing Lent and Holy Week (somehow baby stuff seems to trump all else in my mind!), I do at least want to pause and honor Good Friday.

My family will be eating the traditional Hot Cross Buns, which we only make once a year. Usually we just kind of live on these all day.

For your reflection, here is a small section of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets relevant to this day:

From "East Coker"

IV.

The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer's art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

  Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam's curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

  The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

  The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.

  The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.


Last year's Good Friday post here

Catholic magnet

Frank: "You look like a ghost."

I have a new nickname for Ash Wednesday besides Catholic identification day. If you work in a secular place and you get your ashes early, it's the day you become a "Catholic magnet." I swear.

Here are the responses I've gotten to my ashes so far:

College intern: "Oh! I need to get my ashes too!" and went on to tell me about Mass times at her parish. I had no idea she was Catholic.

Co-worker: "It's always a bummer when Ash Wednesday comes because my wife and I have to come up with meatless meals twice in one week!" I did not know he was Catholic.

Random Hispanic lunch guy (pointing at my head): "You got yours early! Great!" Thank you, random citizen!

I work at possibly the most secular place you can imagine and I expected to see nobody else with ashes today.

I was right. I haven't seen anybody else with ashes.

But what I did NOT expect was that all the other Catholics I encounter would come crawling out of the woodwork to let me know, "Hey! I'm Catholic too!"

It's kinda cool.

Preparing for Lent

via

Can you believe tomorrow is Mardi Gras?! Lent really snuck up on me this year! Frank and I have been discussing all weekend what we're going to give up (or do) for Lent and we still haven't decided.

Frank's theory is, "Whatever your significant other gives up, you kind of give up too," because no one wants to be the jerk noshing alone on ice cream while your spouse casts you baleful glances of envy. (Not that I would ever do that...) So this year we're trying to decide on penances together. We'll see how that goes!

If you're in the same undecided camp as we are, I rounded up a few resources to give you some ideas:

Simcha's list of Lenten rookie mistakes

Kathryn shares How to make Lent 40 days of awesome

Kendra has the greatest list of 66 Things to Give Up or Take Up for Lent (in beginner, intermediate, and advanced)

I laughed over Catholic Vote's 40 things you should give up for Lent

Aleteia has some nice suggestions for Last-minute Lent

And in case you want to try a really difficult cool idea, I was inspired by one family's "year without a purchase." Do you think you could make it through Lent without a purchase? I don't know if I could!

These are just a tiny handful of all the great articles out there. What are some of your favorite resources to prepare for Lent?

Have a great Fat Tuesday! We'll be enjoying classic Polish paczki (pronounced punch-key) at our church's Mardi Gras party. Confession: I've never actually had paczki before, but it seems to be a pretty huge deal here in Chicago! What do you and your family do to celebrate Mardi Gras?



From the archives
2013: Ash Wednesday without a pope
2012: "Catholic identification day"

Don't We Need These Words?

"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

These words are perhaps, for me, the most powerful moment of the liturgical year. How our world needs their message.

They are words to which modern man is all but deaf—and words he desperately needs to hear.

With the departure of our Holy Father, welcome to a Lent unlike any we have known.

These words give me pause for contemplation:

“Pope John Paul II remained in office so that he might show us how to suffer and how to die. Pope Benedict XVI is leaving the Papal Office so that he might show us how to live in humble honesty.”
— Sr. Mary Theresa, O.P (DSMME)

Our beloved Holy Father's humility is almost beyond the comprehension of modern man. He gives witness that the papacy is not about power, but about prayer; not about show, but about suffering.

In a world where power is worshipped, our Father's loving resignation, in all of its incomprehensibility, may be the witness we need the most.

Last year's Ash Wednesday post

Catholic Identification Day

Usually I carry my Catholicism around like a secret.

There isn’t a way for someone passing me on the street to know that I am Catholic. Passersby can’t see the Rosary ring in my pocket or the prayer cards in my wallet. The Daily Roman Missal nestled in my handbag is invisible to them.

I suppose if I were to get hit by a bus or something, they would find out when they opened my purse. But barring unforeseen catastrophe, only I know that I’m Catholic.

And then Ash Wednesday comes, with early morning Mass. The hasty smudge. Those searing words, which bring death to the forefront of my mind. “Remember you are dust” – am I nothing more than dust? – “and to dust you shall return” – so ephemeral is our earthly life. Thank God for our faith in the immortal soul, without which those words would be terrifying.

 And when the priest says, “The Mass is ended,” it is time. We have no choice but to show our Catholicism to the world.

On the subway ride to work, I got a lot of funny stares. But I buried my head in a book to avoid the looks.

Walking to work, though, I had to look up again. After a hostile glare from a blonde girl with a suitcase, I stopped making eye contact with people for a while. But my curiosity won out and I looked around again. I wanted to see who else had the ashes, who else bore the mark of our old unyielding faith.

I only saw one, and he walked past too quickly for us to make eye contact. So I walked alone, doing my best to hold my head high, proud to bear what one hymn calls “the seal of Him who died.”

When I got to work, my co-worker Daniel, who is Jewish, greeted me with a friendly smile.

“Did you go to Mass?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said with a smile in return.

Pushing my hair aside, I turned my forehead to him. “Can you see it?” I asked. “It’s light, but it’s there.” He nodded agreeably. I walked back to my desk, thinking about how Daniel’s religion too has a tradition of penance, of public atonement, in the holiday of Yom Kippur.

It is a fascinating part of the human condition, this urge to atone. To make reparation. It may be evidence of our need for God.

Many days we forget how desperately we need Him, how indispensable He is to every part of our daily living. But today we bear His mark upon our brows and we have no choice but to remember, and to be seen.