Thursday, February 28, 2008
Father Frank
You know, it's always gratifying to read a book that totally describes you feelings on certain issues, like this one, Father Frank. What got me hooked to the book it's actually the first chapter and I think for anyone who questions their faith (not that I am proud of it), they can definitely relate to this:
This was eleven o'clock mass- particularly popular as it finished rather conveniently at ten to twelve, which left just enough time for a fag and a cough in the car park before pubs open at noon.
Inside, the smell of incense was floating down from the altar, along the aisles and into the furthest recesse at the back. Right down into the corners it wafted, so that the slackers that just stood there rather guiltily, the ones who had shuffled in just before the Gospel and would shuffle out just after Communion, were aware that they were attending Sunday mass. Aware that mortal sin had been avoided and their weekly obligation fulfilled.
Most of the congregation were just going through the motions- mindlessly mumbling the words of the prayers they'd mumbled a million times before. Prayers they knew so well that they didn't know them at all. There was, however, one parishioner, seated six rows from the front, who was considering the broader picture, asking himself the bigger question: why are we here? Not 'Why are we here?' in the deep, philosophical sense: why were we put on Earth? What is our ultimate purpose? what is the meaning of life? No, nothing like that. When eleven- year- old Francis Dempsey asked himself, 'Why are we here?' he meant why are we here in the Chruch of the Sacred Heart, Quex Road, Kilburn, spouting ehat soudned to him like rubbish?
Francis, you see, was breaking the habit of a lifetime. He was paying attention. His father Eamonn, having seen the boy gazing vacantly into space yet again during the gospel, had nudged him sharply and told him to listen to what the priest was saying. Francis had always useed his weekly trip to mass as an opportunity to catch up on his daydreaming- would Englad win the World Cup again in Mexico this year? His collection of Esso World Cup coins was almost complete. Only Brian Labone and Ian Storey- Moore to go. Which member of Pan's People was he most in love with? Cherry, Dee Dee or Babs? This morning, though, he was listening to the liturgy, the absurdity of which he found rather disturbing.
"We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth of all things visible and invisible..."
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive thee under my roof but only say the word and my soul will be healed..."
"Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world..."
Lamb of God? What on earth were these people talking about? What is Lamb of God anyway? And since when could a lamb take away the sins of the world?
A few of the flock, particularly those nearest the front, looked worried- very worried. There was a lot of bead-jiggling and breast- beating going on. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mwa maxima culpa. Old Mrs Dunne looked terrified. What dreadful sins had she committed as a girl in Ireland? She was praying now, eyes closed, beads clutched, with the speed and delivery of an auctioner:"... hallowedbethynamethykingdomcomethywillbedoneonearthasitisinheaven..."
As Francis joined the queue to receive the Holy Communion, the opening bars from a familiar hymn struck up with a mighty reconance from the organ loftat the back: "Praise my Soul, the King of Heaven" which, according to the hymnbook, had been written by somebody called H.F.Lyte. "Praise Him, Praise Him" was the chorus and general gist of it. It was the general gist of most hymns, and Francis found the sentiments expressed by H.F. and his ilk rather disquieting.
If God is up there now, His beady eye trained on Kilburn, what must He think of the grovelling musical tributes ringing out of Quex Road? Doesn't He find them horribly embarrassing? Having 'Happy Birthday' sung to you was bad enough so how excruciating was this? Surely He's not enjoying this cringing sycophancy. If He is then He's very conceited. If He's conceited, He's not perfect. If He's not perfect. If He's not perfect, He's not God.
Francis felt the familiar hot pang of Catholic guilt for entertaining such thoughts. How could he even consider such evil, blasphemous ideas about Our Lord? But wait a minute- he wasn't thinking anything bad about God. On the contrary. He was assuming that God was a nice man, a modest man, a man who had no desire to be fawned upon in this way. Having pulled off this neat feat of self- exculpation, Francis reboarded this train of thought, which was now calling at all stations to Eternal Damnation.
What about all the other things he and his fellow parishioners were asked to do in the name of the Lord?
It all began with baptism. At Quex Road, they were very proud of the fact that they had the highest rate of baptisms, the busiest conveyor belt of freshly minted Catholics, in the country. more than six hundred babies a year, apparently, most of them no more than a couple of weeks ago. Baptisms were arranged in great haste to secure the infant's place in Heaven. Any child tragically returned to The Manufacturer before making it to the font would, regrettably, not be eligible for a place at His side, condemned instead to float for ever between Heaven and Hell in the land of Limbo- where innocent babies go if death tightens its icy grip before the Catholic Church does.
And Francis Dempsey, along with every other Roman Catholic, was seriously expected to believe this.
His mind then turned to Holy Communion. Now, that was a good one. How could that tiny round wafer actually be a part of Christ's body? If you stuck enough of them together would you be able to make a long-haired bearded man in his thirties? And even if those little wafers really were tiny pieces of a man's body, why on earth would you want to eat them? And how could that old bottle of Mosaic Cyprus Sherry possibly be Christ's blood? And again, even if it were, why would you want to drink it?
How about confession? What, in the name of God, was that all about? Kneeling inside a wardrobe and telling a strange man your innermost secrets. Francis tried to remember the justification for this most peculiar of sacraments. Oh, yes, inside our bodies, we have a heart and soul. Funny that the latter had never once figured in humn- biology lessons. And, as far as Francis was aware, no doctor had ever been called out to treat a suspected soul-attack. Yet, apparently, there it was, pure white but picking up little black marks every time its owner committed a sin. So confession was a bit like a trip to the launderette with a packet of metaphysical Persil. Those emerging from the wardrobe with their sins absolved, their sould cleansed, were supposed to feel as though they were wearing clean white shirts inside their bodies as well as outside.
Francis looked up at Jesus, depicted high above the altar, nailed to a cross. Who said he looked like that anyway? A bit like George Harrsion on the cover of Abbey Road. Not Mathew, Mark, Luke or John, He'd caught that little snippet on a religious- affairs programme. Not one of the Gospels contains any reference to what Jesus actually looked like. All we know for certain was that he was Jewish. Well, Gus Harvey, who used to live next door, was Jewish, so that was how Francis always imagined the Son of God. It was Gus Harvey healing the lepers, Gus Harvey turning water into wine. Sp two days after Gus died, Francis half expected him to rise from the dead.
This remarkable trick, allegedly performed by Jesus, was celebrated every Easter and Easter was just two weeks away. So today, the priest clad in rather fetching purple vertmests: purple for Lent and Advent, white for weddings and christenings, black for funerals and the standard green for any other time.
Francis felt a sense of dread as he anticipated Friday week- Good Friday, a misnomer if ever there was one, it being the most miserable day in the Catholic calendar, the day Our Lord was supposedly crucified. Any display of happiness or cheer on Good Friday was strictly forbidden. The Dempsey household, like hundred of others in Kilburn, was subject to a blanket ban on all forms of pleasure. Watching TV, playing records in the front room or football in the park- forget it. Good Friday was a day devoted to solemnity- or,rather, mock- solemnity. Wasn't it all a bit of a charade, rather like an old Hollywood movie that was shown every year? Yes, there is a weepy bit where the hero gets nailed to a cross but we all know he's not dead really and gets up to live happily ever after.
Easter Sunday was a bit odd too. If people are going to pretend to be miserable on the Friday because Christ is dead then surely they should still be grief- stricken on the Saturday. He's still dead, isn't he? And yet every year on Easter Sunday smiles return tp Catholic faces as they pile into Woolworth's on Kilburn High Road to buy each other Easter eggs.
All very strange. And yet here he was at mass, surrounded by grown- up, intelligent peopl e all buying into this nonsense- Jim O'Hagan, Mr and Mrs Quinn, the Mackens, the Hennesseys, the McKennas. Surely these thoughts had occured to them too. Did any of them truly believe the stuff they espoused every Sunday?
Francis only really believed in the things he had seen, which was why he no longer believed in monsters, ghosts or Father Christmas. There was, of course, one ghost in whom he was still supposed to believes: the Holy Ghost, recently rebranded as the Holy Spirit, as if making him sound less like a ghoul and more like a bottle of whiskey would give him more credibility. Francis believed John Shanahan was the toughest boy in the class because he had seen him beat Richard Fisher in the playground. He believed that the E-type Jaguar was the most beautiful car in the world because he had seen one parked on Brondesbury Road and had gazed at it for ten minutes. But God? These people believed in Him not because they had seen Him but, paradoxically, because they hadn't.
Most baffling of all was that missing mass on a Sunday was considered a mortal sin on a par with murder or armed robbery. Why? Almost on que, Joe Brennan handed him the most likely explanation.
Joe was a friend of his father's- a good man, parish hero, a Knight of St Columba. Big and burly, Joe was dressed in his Sunday best: blue suit, brown shoes, tiny crucifix half buried in the cloth of his lapel. As he leaned towards Francis, he emitted the faint whiff of last night's Jameson's and this morning's Old Spice. He was passing Francis the collection plate. Ah, so that was it. Receiving no money from the state, the Catholic Church was wholly dependant on the contents of that plate. Without these enforced attendees every Sunday, the health and wealth of the church might be terminally affected. So why not just admit it? Why threaten everyone with the roaring fires of Hell if they didn't tuen up? It was clear to Francis Dempsey and his fellow parishioners were not, as the old cliche goes, singing from the same hymn sheet.
It got worse. After mass, Francis noticed the titles of some of the Catholic Truth Society's pamphlets on sale in the repository. One was called Wrestling With Christ. What was that all about? Did it feature pictures of Jesus grappling with Mick McManus or Jackie Pallo? Did Jesus form a tag team with teh Holy Spirit? That would be some tag team- one invincible, the other invisible. Well, Jesus might had have the rest of the congregation in a helf- nelson but Francis was refusing to submit.
He wandered behind his mother, father and two sisters into O'Brien's newsagents for the traditional after- mass treat. While picking up the News of the World, the Sunday Press and forty Majors, his father would bestow a shilling upon each child to spend on confectionery. They would always eke it out- Francis in particular. He'd fill the little paper bag with Black Jacks, Fruit Salads, little chey Frother bars, spreading that shilling over at least a dosen items. This Sunday he was in a different state of mind. Hang the expense: he was living dangerously now. He was going to blow the whole lot on something really decadent like a Tiffin, an Aztec or an Amazin' Raisin bar. He was breaking old habits, an by the time they'd all walked back to their terraced house in Esmond Road, he'd decided to break the biggest habit of all. He'd made an important decision. A decision for life. Francis Dempsey did not believe in God.
Odd, then, that years later he would return to Quex Road and, witnessed by hundreds of people, would appear to proclaim the opposite.
The 1st chapter of Father Frank. They whole thing is so accurate that I can almost imagine myself sitting at the pew with Frank. Very nice, my type of humour. So anyway, if you are a Catholic, I think you will like it like me. Though as I was typing the whole entire chunk, I wonder if it is actually a sin to enjoy it that much. hur hur. There is a nice part which I particularly like and it goes:
He found it- 'The Banana Boat Song' by Harry Belafonte. He wanted to hear that famous chorus 'Day-o, Day-o, daylight come and she wanna go home'. The record had surely been made for the occasion. Frank had just received his A-level results- a D, and E and an O. 'DEO, DEO, dayligh come and she wanna go home.' Well, Frank thought it was funny. Though in reality, these grades were no laughing matter. Oh, they weren't disastrous- nothing to be ashamed of, and considering how little effort had gone into them, they were remarkably good. They just weren't going to be much use.
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This was eleven o'clock mass- particularly popular as it finished rather conveniently at ten to twelve, which left just enough time for a fag and a cough in the car park before pubs open at noon.
Inside, the smell of incense was floating down from the altar, along the aisles and into the furthest recesse at the back. Right down into the corners it wafted, so that the slackers that just stood there rather guiltily, the ones who had shuffled in just before the Gospel and would shuffle out just after Communion, were aware that they were attending Sunday mass. Aware that mortal sin had been avoided and their weekly obligation fulfilled.
Most of the congregation were just going through the motions- mindlessly mumbling the words of the prayers they'd mumbled a million times before. Prayers they knew so well that they didn't know them at all. There was, however, one parishioner, seated six rows from the front, who was considering the broader picture, asking himself the bigger question: why are we here? Not 'Why are we here?' in the deep, philosophical sense: why were we put on Earth? What is our ultimate purpose? what is the meaning of life? No, nothing like that. When eleven- year- old Francis Dempsey asked himself, 'Why are we here?' he meant why are we here in the Chruch of the Sacred Heart, Quex Road, Kilburn, spouting ehat soudned to him like rubbish?
Francis, you see, was breaking the habit of a lifetime. He was paying attention. His father Eamonn, having seen the boy gazing vacantly into space yet again during the gospel, had nudged him sharply and told him to listen to what the priest was saying. Francis had always useed his weekly trip to mass as an opportunity to catch up on his daydreaming- would Englad win the World Cup again in Mexico this year? His collection of Esso World Cup coins was almost complete. Only Brian Labone and Ian Storey- Moore to go. Which member of Pan's People was he most in love with? Cherry, Dee Dee or Babs? This morning, though, he was listening to the liturgy, the absurdity of which he found rather disturbing.
"We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth of all things visible and invisible..."
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive thee under my roof but only say the word and my soul will be healed..."
"Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world..."
Lamb of God? What on earth were these people talking about? What is Lamb of God anyway? And since when could a lamb take away the sins of the world?
A few of the flock, particularly those nearest the front, looked worried- very worried. There was a lot of bead-jiggling and breast- beating going on. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mwa maxima culpa. Old Mrs Dunne looked terrified. What dreadful sins had she committed as a girl in Ireland? She was praying now, eyes closed, beads clutched, with the speed and delivery of an auctioner:"... hallowedbethynamethykingdomcomethywillbedoneonearthasitisinheaven..."
As Francis joined the queue to receive the Holy Communion, the opening bars from a familiar hymn struck up with a mighty reconance from the organ loftat the back: "Praise my Soul, the King of Heaven" which, according to the hymnbook, had been written by somebody called H.F.Lyte. "Praise Him, Praise Him" was the chorus and general gist of it. It was the general gist of most hymns, and Francis found the sentiments expressed by H.F. and his ilk rather disquieting.
If God is up there now, His beady eye trained on Kilburn, what must He think of the grovelling musical tributes ringing out of Quex Road? Doesn't He find them horribly embarrassing? Having 'Happy Birthday' sung to you was bad enough so how excruciating was this? Surely He's not enjoying this cringing sycophancy. If He is then He's very conceited. If He's conceited, He's not perfect. If He's not perfect. If He's not perfect, He's not God.
Francis felt the familiar hot pang of Catholic guilt for entertaining such thoughts. How could he even consider such evil, blasphemous ideas about Our Lord? But wait a minute- he wasn't thinking anything bad about God. On the contrary. He was assuming that God was a nice man, a modest man, a man who had no desire to be fawned upon in this way. Having pulled off this neat feat of self- exculpation, Francis reboarded this train of thought, which was now calling at all stations to Eternal Damnation.
What about all the other things he and his fellow parishioners were asked to do in the name of the Lord?
It all began with baptism. At Quex Road, they were very proud of the fact that they had the highest rate of baptisms, the busiest conveyor belt of freshly minted Catholics, in the country. more than six hundred babies a year, apparently, most of them no more than a couple of weeks ago. Baptisms were arranged in great haste to secure the infant's place in Heaven. Any child tragically returned to The Manufacturer before making it to the font would, regrettably, not be eligible for a place at His side, condemned instead to float for ever between Heaven and Hell in the land of Limbo- where innocent babies go if death tightens its icy grip before the Catholic Church does.
And Francis Dempsey, along with every other Roman Catholic, was seriously expected to believe this.
His mind then turned to Holy Communion. Now, that was a good one. How could that tiny round wafer actually be a part of Christ's body? If you stuck enough of them together would you be able to make a long-haired bearded man in his thirties? And even if those little wafers really were tiny pieces of a man's body, why on earth would you want to eat them? And how could that old bottle of Mosaic Cyprus Sherry possibly be Christ's blood? And again, even if it were, why would you want to drink it?
How about confession? What, in the name of God, was that all about? Kneeling inside a wardrobe and telling a strange man your innermost secrets. Francis tried to remember the justification for this most peculiar of sacraments. Oh, yes, inside our bodies, we have a heart and soul. Funny that the latter had never once figured in humn- biology lessons. And, as far as Francis was aware, no doctor had ever been called out to treat a suspected soul-attack. Yet, apparently, there it was, pure white but picking up little black marks every time its owner committed a sin. So confession was a bit like a trip to the launderette with a packet of metaphysical Persil. Those emerging from the wardrobe with their sins absolved, their sould cleansed, were supposed to feel as though they were wearing clean white shirts inside their bodies as well as outside.
Francis looked up at Jesus, depicted high above the altar, nailed to a cross. Who said he looked like that anyway? A bit like George Harrsion on the cover of Abbey Road. Not Mathew, Mark, Luke or John, He'd caught that little snippet on a religious- affairs programme. Not one of the Gospels contains any reference to what Jesus actually looked like. All we know for certain was that he was Jewish. Well, Gus Harvey, who used to live next door, was Jewish, so that was how Francis always imagined the Son of God. It was Gus Harvey healing the lepers, Gus Harvey turning water into wine. Sp two days after Gus died, Francis half expected him to rise from the dead.
This remarkable trick, allegedly performed by Jesus, was celebrated every Easter and Easter was just two weeks away. So today, the priest clad in rather fetching purple vertmests: purple for Lent and Advent, white for weddings and christenings, black for funerals and the standard green for any other time.
Francis felt a sense of dread as he anticipated Friday week- Good Friday, a misnomer if ever there was one, it being the most miserable day in the Catholic calendar, the day Our Lord was supposedly crucified. Any display of happiness or cheer on Good Friday was strictly forbidden. The Dempsey household, like hundred of others in Kilburn, was subject to a blanket ban on all forms of pleasure. Watching TV, playing records in the front room or football in the park- forget it. Good Friday was a day devoted to solemnity- or,rather, mock- solemnity. Wasn't it all a bit of a charade, rather like an old Hollywood movie that was shown every year? Yes, there is a weepy bit where the hero gets nailed to a cross but we all know he's not dead really and gets up to live happily ever after.
Easter Sunday was a bit odd too. If people are going to pretend to be miserable on the Friday because Christ is dead then surely they should still be grief- stricken on the Saturday. He's still dead, isn't he? And yet every year on Easter Sunday smiles return tp Catholic faces as they pile into Woolworth's on Kilburn High Road to buy each other Easter eggs.
All very strange. And yet here he was at mass, surrounded by grown- up, intelligent peopl e all buying into this nonsense- Jim O'Hagan, Mr and Mrs Quinn, the Mackens, the Hennesseys, the McKennas. Surely these thoughts had occured to them too. Did any of them truly believe the stuff they espoused every Sunday?
Francis only really believed in the things he had seen, which was why he no longer believed in monsters, ghosts or Father Christmas. There was, of course, one ghost in whom he was still supposed to believes: the Holy Ghost, recently rebranded as the Holy Spirit, as if making him sound less like a ghoul and more like a bottle of whiskey would give him more credibility. Francis believed John Shanahan was the toughest boy in the class because he had seen him beat Richard Fisher in the playground. He believed that the E-type Jaguar was the most beautiful car in the world because he had seen one parked on Brondesbury Road and had gazed at it for ten minutes. But God? These people believed in Him not because they had seen Him but, paradoxically, because they hadn't.
Most baffling of all was that missing mass on a Sunday was considered a mortal sin on a par with murder or armed robbery. Why? Almost on que, Joe Brennan handed him the most likely explanation.
Joe was a friend of his father's- a good man, parish hero, a Knight of St Columba. Big and burly, Joe was dressed in his Sunday best: blue suit, brown shoes, tiny crucifix half buried in the cloth of his lapel. As he leaned towards Francis, he emitted the faint whiff of last night's Jameson's and this morning's Old Spice. He was passing Francis the collection plate. Ah, so that was it. Receiving no money from the state, the Catholic Church was wholly dependant on the contents of that plate. Without these enforced attendees every Sunday, the health and wealth of the church might be terminally affected. So why not just admit it? Why threaten everyone with the roaring fires of Hell if they didn't tuen up? It was clear to Francis Dempsey and his fellow parishioners were not, as the old cliche goes, singing from the same hymn sheet.
It got worse. After mass, Francis noticed the titles of some of the Catholic Truth Society's pamphlets on sale in the repository. One was called Wrestling With Christ. What was that all about? Did it feature pictures of Jesus grappling with Mick McManus or Jackie Pallo? Did Jesus form a tag team with teh Holy Spirit? That would be some tag team- one invincible, the other invisible. Well, Jesus might had have the rest of the congregation in a helf- nelson but Francis was refusing to submit.
He wandered behind his mother, father and two sisters into O'Brien's newsagents for the traditional after- mass treat. While picking up the News of the World, the Sunday Press and forty Majors, his father would bestow a shilling upon each child to spend on confectionery. They would always eke it out- Francis in particular. He'd fill the little paper bag with Black Jacks, Fruit Salads, little chey Frother bars, spreading that shilling over at least a dosen items. This Sunday he was in a different state of mind. Hang the expense: he was living dangerously now. He was going to blow the whole lot on something really decadent like a Tiffin, an Aztec or an Amazin' Raisin bar. He was breaking old habits, an by the time they'd all walked back to their terraced house in Esmond Road, he'd decided to break the biggest habit of all. He'd made an important decision. A decision for life. Francis Dempsey did not believe in God.
Odd, then, that years later he would return to Quex Road and, witnessed by hundreds of people, would appear to proclaim the opposite.
The 1st chapter of Father Frank. They whole thing is so accurate that I can almost imagine myself sitting at the pew with Frank. Very nice, my type of humour. So anyway, if you are a Catholic, I think you will like it like me. Though as I was typing the whole entire chunk, I wonder if it is actually a sin to enjoy it that much. hur hur. There is a nice part which I particularly like and it goes:
He found it- 'The Banana Boat Song' by Harry Belafonte. He wanted to hear that famous chorus 'Day-o, Day-o, daylight come and she wanna go home'. The record had surely been made for the occasion. Frank had just received his A-level results- a D, and E and an O. 'DEO, DEO, dayligh come and she wanna go home.' Well, Frank thought it was funny. Though in reality, these grades were no laughing matter. Oh, they weren't disastrous- nothing to be ashamed of, and considering how little effort had gone into them, they were remarkably good. They just weren't going to be much use.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Happy 26th
Happy Birthday Donut's and Colin's 26th birthday today. Happy birthday!!! I wish you happiness, health, wealth and love!
I've decided to embark on my life-changing project anyway. Whichever direction The Almighty One aka my TAO decides..
I've been having mixed feelings about work lately. it's like having a personal demon waiting to confront you every other minute. I disgust myself sometimes. How I allow a person/s to affect my emotions like this is truly disgusting. I need to be rational. I need to meditate. Breatheeeee
In other news, the peak has started without us really noticing. Goodbye expensive gym sessions and hello a painful waste of money (for missing gym). Don't we all love OTs?
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I've decided to embark on my life-changing project anyway. Whichever direction The Almighty One aka my TAO decides..
I've been having mixed feelings about work lately. it's like having a personal demon waiting to confront you every other minute. I disgust myself sometimes. How I allow a person/s to affect my emotions like this is truly disgusting. I need to be rational. I need to meditate. Breatheeeee
In other news, the peak has started without us really noticing. Goodbye expensive gym sessions and hello a painful waste of money (for missing gym). Don't we all love OTs?
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Season of Lent
Lent, in most Christian denominations, is the forty-day liturgical season of fasting and prayer before Easter. The forty days represent the time Jesus spent in the desert, where, according to the Bible, he endured temptation by Satan. Different churches calculate the forty days differently.
The purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer—through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial—for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, which recalls the events linked to the Passion of Christ and culminates in Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The number forty has many Biblical references: the forty days Moses spent on Mount Sinai with God (Exodus 24:18); the forty days and nights Elijah spent walking to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19:8); God made it rain for forty days and forty nights in the days of Noah (Genesis 7:4); the Hebrew people wandered forty years traveling to the Promised Land (Numbers 14:33); Jonah in his prophecy of judgment gave the city of Nineveh forty days time in which to repent (Jonah 3:4).
Jesus retreated into the desert, where he fasted for forty days, and was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1-2, Mark 1:12-13, Luke 4:1-2). Jesus overcame all three of Satan's temptations by citing scripture to the devil, at which point the devil left him, angels ministered to Jesus, and he began his ministry. Jesus further said that his disciples should fast "when the bridegroom shall be taken from them" (Matthew 9:15), a reference to his Passion. Since, presumably, the Apostles fasted as they mourned the death of Jesus, Christians have traditionally fasted during the annual commemoration of his burial.
It is the traditional belief that Jesus lay for 40 hours in the tomb which led to the forty hours of total fast that preceded the Easter celebration in the early Church (the biblical reference to 'three days in the tomb' is understood as spanning three days, from Friday afternoon to early Sunday morning, rather than three 24 hour periods of time). One of the most important ceremonies at Easter was the baptism of the initiates on Easter Eve. The fast was initially undertaken by the catechumens to prepare them for the reception of this sacrament. Later, the period of fasting from Good Friday until Easter Day was extended to six days, to correspond with the six weeks of training, necessary to give the final instruction to those converts who were to be baptized.
Converts to Christianity followed a strict catechumenate or period of instruction and discipline prior to baptism. In Jerusalem near the close of the fourth century, classes were held throughout Lent for three hours each day. With the legalization of Christianity (by the Edict of Milan) and its later imposition as the state religion of the Roman Empire, its character was endangered by the great influx of new members. In response, the Lenten fast and practices of self-renunciation were required annually of all Christians, both to show solidarity with the catechumens, and for their own spiritual benefit. The less zealous converts were thus brought more securely into the Christian fold.
Traditionally, on Easter Sunday, Roman Catholics may cease their fasting and start again whatever they gave up for lent, after they attend Mass on Easter Sunday. Other Western denominations have also followed this general principle to a greater or lesser degree.
There are traditionally forty days in Lent which are marked by fasting, both from foods and festivities, and by other acts of penance. The three traditional practices to be taken up with renewed vigour during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving (justice towards neighbour). Today, some people give up a vice of theirs, add something that will bring them closer to God, and often give the time or money spent doing that to charitable purposes or organizations.
Fasting during Lent was more severe in ancient times than today. Socrates Scholasticus reports that in some places, all animal products were strictly forbidden, while others will permit fish, others permit fish and fowl, others prohibit fruit and eggs, and still others eat only bread. In some places, believers abstained from food for an entire day; others took only one meal each day, while others abstained from all food until 3 o'clock. In most places, however, the practice was to abstain from eating until the evening, when a small meal without meat or alcohol was eaten.
Today, in the West, the practice is considerably relaxed, though in the Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic Churches abstinence from the above-mentioned food products is still commonly practiced, meaning only vegetarian meals are consumed during this time in many Eastern countries. Lenten practices (as well as various other liturgical practices) are more common in Protestant circles than they once were. In the Roman Catholic Church it is tradition to abstain from meat from Ungulates (meaning roughly "being hooved" or "hooved animal") every Friday for the duration of Lent, although dairy products are still permitted. On Ash Wednesday it is customary to fast for the day, with no meat, eating only one full meal, and if necessary, two small meals also.
Current fasting practice in the Roman Catholic Church binds persons over the age of 18 and younger than fifty-nine (Canon 1252). Pursuant to Canon 1253, days of fasting and abstinence are set by the national Episcopal conference. On days of fasting, one eats only one full meal, but may eat two smaller meals as necessary to keep up one's strength. The two small meals together must sum to less than the one full meal. Parallel to the fasting laws are the laws of abstinence. These bind those over the age of fourteen.
On days of abstinence, the person must not eat meat or poultry. According to canon law, all Fridays of the year, Ash Wednesday and several other days are days of abstinence, though in most countries, the strict requirements of abstinence have been limited by the bishops (in accordance with Canon 1253) to the Fridays of Lent and Ash Wednesday.
On other abstinence days, the faithful are invited to perform some other act of penance.Many modern Protestants consider the observation of Lent to be a choice, rather than an obligation. They may decide to give up a favorite food or drink (e.g. chocolate, alcohol) or activity (e.g. going to the movies, playing video games) for Lent, or they may instead decide to take on a Lenten discipline such as devotions, volunteering for charity work, and so forth. Roman Catholics may also observe Lent in this way, in addition to the dietary restrictions outlined above, though observation is no longer mandatory under the threat of mortal sin.
Many Christians who choose not to follow the dietary restrictions cite 1 Timothy 4:1-5 which warns of doctrines that "forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth."
I haven't been observing Lent for a long time until last year my buddy, Anneh Quah, who is also a Catholic reminded me. So this year, this is the 2nd time I am abstaining from meat, and to make up for the lack of abstinence during CNY, I decided to avoid shopping. Which is not a bad deal since I can save money that way. When I did it last year, another colleague looked at me wide-eyed and utterly amazed like he've never met any vegetarians ever in his life. I told him off because it is not a big deal (it's only 40 days) and he is acting damn idiotic about it.
This year is more fun because my evil twin TWT is detox-ing and hence, going through some kind of abstinence as well. I mean this whole abstinence thing is not exactly miserable but it's always fun when someone shares your sentiment over a piece of juicy drumstick barbequed to perfection.
I haven't bought anything so far, but that's probably because I went a little overboard back in KL. I must be strong. And you know what's so shitty about this shopping thing? There's sale everywhere. I made a virgin trip to AMK hub yesterday with the evil twin and every other turn was a shop having sale. I'm glad I was given the strength to turn away. I'm goooddd. hur hur.
I have yet to act on my life changing project because I am having 2nd thoughts about it again. I mean, I really should just trust my instinct and act upon it instead of hesitating and landing myself in this stupid dilemma again. Gah!
In other news, I made a virgin strike in 4D this evening. *By the way, the amount is so small that you can't even buy anything significant with the money, so don't bother asking me to buy you a meal. But you can hope that I strike a big one tomorrow so that I can give you a treat* Anyway, I'm not into such things most of the time but it so happened that while dozing off on the train the other day, I picked up the 4 numbers in a conversation that was happening nearby. And since I could still remember them last night (even thought I was semi-conscious then), I asked momma to help me place a bet, which I did not pay a single cent for. hur hur. Yep, so much bout my little excitement.
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The purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer—through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial—for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, which recalls the events linked to the Passion of Christ and culminates in Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The number forty has many Biblical references: the forty days Moses spent on Mount Sinai with God (Exodus 24:18); the forty days and nights Elijah spent walking to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19:8); God made it rain for forty days and forty nights in the days of Noah (Genesis 7:4); the Hebrew people wandered forty years traveling to the Promised Land (Numbers 14:33); Jonah in his prophecy of judgment gave the city of Nineveh forty days time in which to repent (Jonah 3:4).
Jesus retreated into the desert, where he fasted for forty days, and was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1-2, Mark 1:12-13, Luke 4:1-2). Jesus overcame all three of Satan's temptations by citing scripture to the devil, at which point the devil left him, angels ministered to Jesus, and he began his ministry. Jesus further said that his disciples should fast "when the bridegroom shall be taken from them" (Matthew 9:15), a reference to his Passion. Since, presumably, the Apostles fasted as they mourned the death of Jesus, Christians have traditionally fasted during the annual commemoration of his burial.
It is the traditional belief that Jesus lay for 40 hours in the tomb which led to the forty hours of total fast that preceded the Easter celebration in the early Church (the biblical reference to 'three days in the tomb' is understood as spanning three days, from Friday afternoon to early Sunday morning, rather than three 24 hour periods of time). One of the most important ceremonies at Easter was the baptism of the initiates on Easter Eve. The fast was initially undertaken by the catechumens to prepare them for the reception of this sacrament. Later, the period of fasting from Good Friday until Easter Day was extended to six days, to correspond with the six weeks of training, necessary to give the final instruction to those converts who were to be baptized.
Converts to Christianity followed a strict catechumenate or period of instruction and discipline prior to baptism. In Jerusalem near the close of the fourth century, classes were held throughout Lent for three hours each day. With the legalization of Christianity (by the Edict of Milan) and its later imposition as the state religion of the Roman Empire, its character was endangered by the great influx of new members. In response, the Lenten fast and practices of self-renunciation were required annually of all Christians, both to show solidarity with the catechumens, and for their own spiritual benefit. The less zealous converts were thus brought more securely into the Christian fold.
Traditionally, on Easter Sunday, Roman Catholics may cease their fasting and start again whatever they gave up for lent, after they attend Mass on Easter Sunday. Other Western denominations have also followed this general principle to a greater or lesser degree.
There are traditionally forty days in Lent which are marked by fasting, both from foods and festivities, and by other acts of penance. The three traditional practices to be taken up with renewed vigour during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving (justice towards neighbour). Today, some people give up a vice of theirs, add something that will bring them closer to God, and often give the time or money spent doing that to charitable purposes or organizations.
Fasting during Lent was more severe in ancient times than today. Socrates Scholasticus reports that in some places, all animal products were strictly forbidden, while others will permit fish, others permit fish and fowl, others prohibit fruit and eggs, and still others eat only bread. In some places, believers abstained from food for an entire day; others took only one meal each day, while others abstained from all food until 3 o'clock. In most places, however, the practice was to abstain from eating until the evening, when a small meal without meat or alcohol was eaten.
Today, in the West, the practice is considerably relaxed, though in the Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic Churches abstinence from the above-mentioned food products is still commonly practiced, meaning only vegetarian meals are consumed during this time in many Eastern countries. Lenten practices (as well as various other liturgical practices) are more common in Protestant circles than they once were. In the Roman Catholic Church it is tradition to abstain from meat from Ungulates (meaning roughly "being hooved" or "hooved animal") every Friday for the duration of Lent, although dairy products are still permitted. On Ash Wednesday it is customary to fast for the day, with no meat, eating only one full meal, and if necessary, two small meals also.
Current fasting practice in the Roman Catholic Church binds persons over the age of 18 and younger than fifty-nine (Canon 1252). Pursuant to Canon 1253, days of fasting and abstinence are set by the national Episcopal conference. On days of fasting, one eats only one full meal, but may eat two smaller meals as necessary to keep up one's strength. The two small meals together must sum to less than the one full meal. Parallel to the fasting laws are the laws of abstinence. These bind those over the age of fourteen.
On days of abstinence, the person must not eat meat or poultry. According to canon law, all Fridays of the year, Ash Wednesday and several other days are days of abstinence, though in most countries, the strict requirements of abstinence have been limited by the bishops (in accordance with Canon 1253) to the Fridays of Lent and Ash Wednesday.
On other abstinence days, the faithful are invited to perform some other act of penance.Many modern Protestants consider the observation of Lent to be a choice, rather than an obligation. They may decide to give up a favorite food or drink (e.g. chocolate, alcohol) or activity (e.g. going to the movies, playing video games) for Lent, or they may instead decide to take on a Lenten discipline such as devotions, volunteering for charity work, and so forth. Roman Catholics may also observe Lent in this way, in addition to the dietary restrictions outlined above, though observation is no longer mandatory under the threat of mortal sin.
Many Christians who choose not to follow the dietary restrictions cite 1 Timothy 4:1-5 which warns of doctrines that "forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth."
I haven't been observing Lent for a long time until last year my buddy, Anneh Quah, who is also a Catholic reminded me. So this year, this is the 2nd time I am abstaining from meat, and to make up for the lack of abstinence during CNY, I decided to avoid shopping. Which is not a bad deal since I can save money that way. When I did it last year, another colleague looked at me wide-eyed and utterly amazed like he've never met any vegetarians ever in his life. I told him off because it is not a big deal (it's only 40 days) and he is acting damn idiotic about it.
This year is more fun because my evil twin TWT is detox-ing and hence, going through some kind of abstinence as well. I mean this whole abstinence thing is not exactly miserable but it's always fun when someone shares your sentiment over a piece of juicy drumstick barbequed to perfection.
I haven't bought anything so far, but that's probably because I went a little overboard back in KL. I must be strong. And you know what's so shitty about this shopping thing? There's sale everywhere. I made a virgin trip to AMK hub yesterday with the evil twin and every other turn was a shop having sale. I'm glad I was given the strength to turn away. I'm goooddd. hur hur.
I have yet to act on my life changing project because I am having 2nd thoughts about it again. I mean, I really should just trust my instinct and act upon it instead of hesitating and landing myself in this stupid dilemma again. Gah!
In other news, I made a virgin strike in 4D this evening. *By the way, the amount is so small that you can't even buy anything significant with the money, so don't bother asking me to buy you a meal. But you can hope that I strike a big one tomorrow so that I can give you a treat* Anyway, I'm not into such things most of the time but it so happened that while dozing off on the train the other day, I picked up the 4 numbers in a conversation that was happening nearby. And since I could still remember them last night (even thought I was semi-conscious then), I asked momma to help me place a bet, which I did not pay a single cent for. hur hur. Yep, so much bout my little excitement.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Too much excitement
I planned (well, I am actually still doing it but is 0.001mm close to abandoning it, for now) to work on a life-changing 'project' but I think I've had enough for the day. The events that happened in the past 36hrs have been keeping me rather restless and really, I should just stop and strategies before I veer too far off and everything becomes too late. Right. I think I need to be more focus on the project, which means I should not embark on it tonight.
I had a wonderful dinner at the illegal steamboat joint owned by Coins the pirate queen and my energy level's been low since. But it was all worth it. Life's good and I truly appreciate it.
I am sincerely sleepy and I know it when I can't even spell simple words like 'Coins' or 'words' properly. Goodnight.
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I had a wonderful dinner at the illegal steamboat joint owned by Coins the pirate queen and my energy level's been low since. But it was all worth it. Life's good and I truly appreciate it.
I am sincerely sleepy and I know it when I can't even spell simple words like 'Coins' or 'words' properly. Goodnight.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Festive entry 2
In case you are interested in what we usually do in the lazy old PD, here's a glimpse of our annual fireworks display. Not impressive like those you see during NDP, but at least we get to sit in our little stools comfortably.
The kids having fun in front of the house
My 2 little precious
GAH!
Happy New YEar!
Friday, February 15, 2008
新年!
It's another joyous time of the year where we can legitimately eat ourselves silly and shop like there's no tomorrow. Chinese New Year is pretty much the same every year, the first 3 days are usually spent in PD while the rest back in Singapore. This year, I decided to extend my stay a little so that I can spend more time with my extended family which includes my cousin Silly and my 2 little precious who are growing so fast, it feels a little scary, and a little sad maybe.
Sarah is growing taller and at 8, she is demanding clothes and slippers from Roxy. Which is kind of scary, isn't it? I didn't own any Roxy until I was.. 17? *sigh* Kids these days. Anyway Daniel is beginning to talk in nice, complete sentence and don't you just adore kids at this age? Oh dear, I am missing them already! And as for Silly, she is pretty much the same as she was, just as silly, and I figured she is too old to be growing anyway. hur hur. Like she likes to say "I know you love me, cousin." Right.
I'm trying to load some pictures from my phone onto the computer but seems like there are some problem. I guess that's next time then.
Is it age or is it just hormones? Suddenly I felt completely worn out in the afternoon today. So instead of heading the gym, I headed back home. More moolahs wasted.
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Sarah is growing taller and at 8, she is demanding clothes and slippers from Roxy. Which is kind of scary, isn't it? I didn't own any Roxy until I was.. 17? *sigh* Kids these days. Anyway Daniel is beginning to talk in nice, complete sentence and don't you just adore kids at this age? Oh dear, I am missing them already! And as for Silly, she is pretty much the same as she was, just as silly, and I figured she is too old to be growing anyway. hur hur. Like she likes to say "I know you love me, cousin." Right.
I'm trying to load some pictures from my phone onto the computer but seems like there are some problem. I guess that's next time then.
Is it age or is it just hormones? Suddenly I felt completely worn out in the afternoon today. So instead of heading the gym, I headed back home. More moolahs wasted.
| My declaration of Love |
| I need to know how to feel without you.. I need to find myself, to give you the space you need, to move in a different direction from yours.. I want to know how life can go on without you.. I want to embrace joy, indulge in love, to enjoy every drop of sunshine that falls on me.. I will conquer my fear of living in a world without you.. I will live my life as though I had never met you... |