Catholic guilt, you’re hard to leave behind. Not counting weddings and funerals, I go to church a couple of times a year. Over the past 10 or so years, I’ve usually seen the inside of a church (during Mass) more than the average C&E’er but not much more.
Yet Lent doesn’t let go.
Every Ash Wednesday I’ll start thinking about whether there should be a Lenten sacrifice, and it’s not just because my mom finds a way to work it into the Mardi Gras phone call.
In Lents long ago, I’ve stopped with eating sweets or meat or drinking booze – one year even eliminating candy and cocktails. But more recently I’ve taken a more realistic tack and done either nothing or nothing I wasn’t trying to do anyway (less junk food, more exercising, less time in front of a screen, more time sleeping, etc.).
This year I opted for cutting peanut butter out of my diet. Honestly, my pants were getting tight and PB & Nutella sandwiches were at the root of the creamy and delicious problem. So about 40 days ago I threw away the half-full container of Jiff and let the cravings begin.
Now, on Good Friday, with Lent behind us, liturgically speaking, I haven’t touched the stuff – not even in the form of my candy bar addiction Wunderbar (go ahead and try some). I also haven’t had meat for the last seven Fridays and didn’t eat in between meals on Ash Wednesday or Good Friday (fast and abstinence for everyone who forgot Sunday school).
This, I realize, is absurd. There is no logical connection between the idea of Christ being tempted by Satan in the desert for 40 days and nights and me sticking to a diet decision I should have started with months ago.
But like I said, Lent doesn’t let go.
It’s the time of the Christian calendar when after largely neglecting outward displays of religion for roughly 325 days of the year, I feel like I should be doing something in line with the Roman Catholic tenets I was brought up with. And that manifests itself in almost two months of Fridays without meat and two days of no snacking – and, this year, leaving the jar of peanut butter closed.
Somehow I don’t think God’s going to be impressed. I also don’t think next year will be any different.
As far as I know, there isn’t really a traditional Easter desert, so I’m going to start lobbying to make this one a part of the institution of Easter: Peanut butter and Nutella cookies
MeandHerandHer 