Observing the complex rules behind Lent
by Pete Cunningham
*As printed January 30, 2008 in The Homer Index

Next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, which for individuals of the Christian faith symbolizes the beginning of the Lenten season. I’m unaware of what practices other Christian doctrines adhere to, but for Catholics - such as myself - sacrificing something for the 46 days leading to Easter Sunday has become commonplace.

Fatty foods, alcohol, chocolate and other such enjoyable parts of life are given up for a short period, so that we can identify with the sacrifices Jesus endured for us. I’m not exactly sure which book of the Bible talked about going six weeks without a Snickers bar, cheeseburger or Budweiser being equal to spurning Beelzebub in the desert for the world’s riches, but I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.

Deciding what to give up is not as easy as writing all your vices on sheets of paper, throwing them in a hat and picking one. As Catholics, it is our duty to apply many complex rules that must be followed, of which no one is exactly sure the origin accompanied with mass amounts of guilt. It’s kind of our M.O.

First you have to decide what you can give up and still be a functional member of society. Giving up driving seems like a good way to make an environmentally conscious sacrifice for Lent, but if you don’t make it to work on time, your boss might consider giving up writing your paycheck, and if Johnny doesn’t make it to soccer practice you may as well give up his college fund and start financing child therapist appointments.

Of course you can’t give up something that’s too easy to give up. If you only enjoy the occasional cup of Joe, giving up coffee isn’t going to hack it, nor will giving up fast food count for health gurus who rarely want fries with that. If you find yourself without a singular vice that is particularly burdensome to live without, multiple sins may be parlayed into somewhat of a penance superfecta.

This isn’t golf, so there are no carry-overs. If you gave up smoking as a New Year’s resolution, don’t you dare try and say throwing out the coffin nails is your Lenten sacrifice. I’ve yet to hear from the Vatican about renewing broken New Year’s resolutions, but I’ll keep you posted.

No back-ended sacrifices either. Just like telling someone their new jeans make them look less fat isn’t a real compliment, giving up taking out the trash doesn’t fly as a Lent worthy relinquishment.

Next isn’t really a rule as much as it is an unwritten code of conduct, but don’t try to one-up fellow Lenten observers. It’s great that you gave up meat or the Internet. Try to understand though, for common lowly sinners like the rest of us, not eating pizza or abstaining from swearing and public nudity taxes every natural instinct we’ve ever had. Giving up e-mail and steak dinners would no doubt send us into a downward spiral of depression from which there would be no escape.

Of course, me even mentioning religious sacrifice seems a bit hypocritical considering that since college I’ve become a full-blown “C- n’ E-er” - taking up the good seats in church on Christmas and Easter - to the dismay of regulars relegated to the cry room. If my words carried any kind of weight, I’d give up being such a smart-alek and contribute positively to the world around me instead of just giving up some arbitrary pleasure for a month, then hopping right back on the fast track to degeneration.

Or maybe ice cream. I could always just give up ice cream.