Our recent trip to France included visits to a number of churches, something that we’ve done on many of our adventures. One needn’t be catholic to appreciate the history, art and architecture which is preserved in these places. However, to fully enjoy the depth of these treasures, preparing for the visits will necessarily involve an understanding of ‘context’. It’s pretty, but what does it all mean?
Our theme for this trip was intentional: Gothic Cathedrals. What better framework upon which to build an excursion to France? (Yeah, we saw plenty of art from other periods. Easy to do in Paris, eh?)
Cathedrals have long drawn pilgrims, who travel great distances in the company of their fellow devotees in order to visit some sacred relic housed in their destination. (Yes, we’ve been to Canterbury and Santiago de Compostela. Don’t jump to any conclusions about our reasons, though.) Among the faithful, such journeys were regarded as both an act of obedience and personal sacrifice. No small feat, these treks. And historically a Catholic tradition.
My wife’s family is Lutheran. The family tree has Lutheran roots going back hundreds of years. A long and rich tradition if somewhat less ornate from that of the Catholic Church. My upbringing was also Protestant, though of the non-denominational variety. Neither of us had the benefit that our catholic friends had when it came to an immersive understanding of church history. We’ve picked up what little we know from books, videos, libraries, and knowledgeable friends.
Enter my friend, Vince, a former coworker.
We worked on opposite sides of the facility and didn’t see each other often, but we’d sometimes be in the lunchroom at the same time. Our few conversations were always interesting and, for me, instructive.
Vince was a Catholic. Unlike most of my Catholic friends – who were “born a Catholic”, “lapsed Catholic”, or “recovering Catholic” – Vince was really Catholic. He knew what he believed (church doctrine) and why (catechism). He was active in his local parish. He practiced and studied. I remember thinking “he’d have made an excellent priest, except for s-e-x.” He and his young wife had, if I recall, four small kids and another on the way. The church said no contraception, so that meant lots of kids. No questions. Period.
Yeah, times change. But God’s will, revealed through His church, wasn’t open for negotiations.
Vince was a member of Opus Dei before the rest of us saw The Da Vinci Code.
Vince knew who the next Pope would be (Cardinal Ratzinger) before John Paul II was even sick.
So I knew that Vince wouldn’t mind answering a few honest questions.
Like eating meat on Friday.
I’m so old that I remember the public school cafeteria serving fish and mac & cheese on Friday. I remember my Jewish neighbor, sniffing the air and detecting the aroma of fish coming from our Catholic neighbor’s house, saying “yup, it’s Friday”.
So I asked Vince about the change.
His explanation began with a question – was I familiar with Lent? Of course. Well, the practice of “giving up something for lent” was intended to encourage Catholics to keep in mind the sacrifice of Christ by offering a personal – and inconvenient – sacrifice during Lent. And so it was with meatless Fridays: one day of the week to remember Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf.
Therefore, if one chose to forego the tradition of meatless Fridays, one should substitute another personal Act of Contrition.
And so, boys and girls, that’s the story of how, when we became vegetarian 30+ years ago, we decided that we should perform another Act of Contrition:
We gave up Christmas for Lent.
B & B 