S
Sailor_Kenshin
Guest
Ever since I became Catholic (not all that long ago), I’ve seen both lay people and officials of the church on television and the internet urge prayer, penance, and sacrifice, year-round.
This year, on Ash Wednesday, I didn’t see anyone in the street [who wore ashes] apart from those just leaving the church. No one asked about the ashes. This is unusual. People have asked, in the past.
I’ve heard people claim to go through the entire 40 days of Lent on nothing but bread and water. Then they raise an eyebrow at you and say, “What are YOU giving up?”
If you’re praying, doing penance, and sacrificing daily, what more are you supposed to do for Lent? Cut off your head?
I’m not a good person, never saw myself as such, can’t ever be worthy of the sacrifice of Christ. Yet I was really eager to enter the Church, and was in fact afraid I would be turned away. I wasn’t! I remember how happy I was to get my first Ashes for my first Lent, and I wanted to learn all I could about my new faith.
Gradually I began to feel as though were supposed to live as a 4th-century cloistered mystics, and that I would never measure up.
Where does regular, everyday life come in if it’s supposed to be all-sacrifice, all the time?
If everything is of equal urgency—nothing is. And you begin to suspect that something is out of whack.
I’m pretty sure I haven’t expressed this at all well.
Thoughts?
This year, on Ash Wednesday, I didn’t see anyone in the street [who wore ashes] apart from those just leaving the church. No one asked about the ashes. This is unusual. People have asked, in the past.
I’ve heard people claim to go through the entire 40 days of Lent on nothing but bread and water. Then they raise an eyebrow at you and say, “What are YOU giving up?”
If you’re praying, doing penance, and sacrificing daily, what more are you supposed to do for Lent? Cut off your head?
I’m not a good person, never saw myself as such, can’t ever be worthy of the sacrifice of Christ. Yet I was really eager to enter the Church, and was in fact afraid I would be turned away. I wasn’t! I remember how happy I was to get my first Ashes for my first Lent, and I wanted to learn all I could about my new faith.
Gradually I began to feel as though were supposed to live as a 4th-century cloistered mystics, and that I would never measure up.
Where does regular, everyday life come in if it’s supposed to be all-sacrifice, all the time?
If everything is of equal urgency—nothing is. And you begin to suspect that something is out of whack.
I’m pretty sure I haven’t expressed this at all well.
Thoughts?