Catholic Culture: Epiphany to Mardis Gras

Most folks have heard of Mardis Gras, but how many know what it means? I don't just mean literally (it's French for "Fat Tuesday"), but historically and liturgically? For example, did you know that Mardis Gras actually has its roots in Christmas?

I did a little research and found out some more tidbits that I didn't know before.

Mardis Gras isn't just the one day before Ash Wednesday (though the folks in New Orleans could've told me that, I'm sure!) It's actually the entire celebratory season from Epiphany (or Twelfth Night, January 6th) until the Lenten season of penance begins at midnight of Ash Wednesday.

a traditional King's cake--yummy, huh?

The King's cake which is a mandatory part of Mardis Gras in New Orleans (another thing I hadn't known before), commemorates the route of the three kings (also known as the three wise men) who traveled from the East to seek the Infant King of the world, Jesus. They took a circuitous route in order to evade King Herod's men. (Hence, the circular cake). Herod had instructed the three kings to return to him after finding the Infant King in order that King Herod might come and pay homage to Him. (Yeah, right, Herod!) The three kings weren't called "wise men" for nothing. They never told Herod where He was.

The colors are significant too. The purple stands for justice, green is faith and gold is power. The Church uses these colors throughout the liturgical year as well. Purple is the color worn for Advent and Lent and signifies penance; green is worn during Ordinary Time and represents the hope of life eternal and new life; Gold represents something highly valued and esteemed.

In Catholic Europe, the period from Epiphany to Ash Wednesday is known as Carnival: from the Latin words carne vale, meaning "farewell to meat," signifying the period of abstaining from meat during the Lenten fast.

Speaking of fasting: Mardis Gras doesn't mean you indulge on Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and thus you get fat (as I used to think). The "fat" part of Fat Tuesday means all animal fats were used up, since they would not be used during the six weeks of the Lenten observance.

The English also used up their animal fats (and dairy products, including eggs, which were forbidden during Lent from about the seventh century until fairly recently). Even though Englishmen can now eat butter and eggs during Lent, the tradition of "Pancake Day" or "Shrove Tuesday" remains. Shrove Tuesday refers to the tradition of being "shriven" of one's sins on that day by making an examination of conscience and going to confession to prepare for the season of penance. Though not as boisterous a holiday as Mardis Gras or Carnival, the Brits are just as wed to the traditions of Pancake Day as are the rowdier crowds wed to their King's cake in New Orleans. Pancake races, whereby the runners must also flip pancakes in skillets whilst running, are a popular event in the villages of England even today. (When we lived in North Yorkshire, our parish priest was a frequent winner of these races).

My kids insisted upon eating pancakes for supper last Tuesday, even though I assured them they would be available to them for breakfast throughout Lent. (I opted for a nice helping of leftover lasagne with a glass of merlot for dinner that night).

I Love Lent!

Perhaps it's because I'm a convert to the Catholic faith, or perhaps it's because I'm a very goal-oriented sort of person, but I LOVE the season of Lent.

That may come as a shock to cradle Catholics who grew up experiencing Lent as a time to suffer and do penance without thought for Easter which is the joyful culmination of our season of penance.

I love the color purple--more than the green and red of Christmas. It is a rich, vibrant color that symbolizes the royalty and kingship of Christ as well as penance.

Don't get me wrong--I don't like fasting or doing without. But I love the time of living simply and just getting by with what we really need and trying to avoid little luxuries like wine with dinner and chocolate for dessert. I love making simple suppers of soup and bread, beans and rice, pastas and salads during Lent.

I love Ash Wednesday with its emphasis on the equality of all mankind: "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return." Kings and paupers, vice presidents and homeschooling mamas...we're all dust; we're all the same.

I love praying the Stations of the Cross on Fridays with the family after the parish fish fry.

 

I love seeing smiling children waving palms on Palm Sunday and remembering the ashes we wore not six weeks prior that were made from the previous years' palms. I love making the palms into crosses and having them tucked into prayer books and holy pictures to remind us of the day Jesus rode into Jerusalem.

 

I love the washing of the feet on Holy Thursday. I love re-living what Jesus did on the first Holy Thursday when he washed the feet of his disciples.

I love it when the entire congregation processes in silence from the sanctuary to the place of repose for the Blessed Sacrament on Holy Thursday.

I love it when we enter the sanctuary on Good Friday and there is no Jesus: some of us awkwardly genuflect anyway, others bow to the barren altar; all of us inwardly ask the question the women at his burial tomb asked the Roman guards: "Where have they taken my Lord?"

I love it when the priest brings in the crucifix on Good Friday and chants: "Behold, the wood of the cross!" I love it when everyone, old and young, fit and infirm, black and white, venerates the cross.

I love climbing the hill at Mother Cabrini Shrine on Good Friday, praying the fourteen stations and trying to imagine the immense love that our Savior had for us that caused him to carry that cross up Calvary and be nailed to it--all for our sakes and for redemption of our souls.

I love the Easter Vigil with its candles and bonfires, and seeing the catechumens in their white garments entering into the fullness of the Church.

I also love Lent because I'm really lousy at buying presents and sending Christmas cards. In fact, my Christmas cards, complete with family Christmas photo, Christmas stamps and Christmas letters are still sitting in separate piles in my house. Somehow I never got around to actually addressing the envelopes. Maybe they'll become Easter cards.

Lenten Journeys: Finding Joy in Adversity

The other night I happened to turn on the television, and I watched the tail-end of a true-life disaster played out in high drama. It was the story of the Silverwood family from California, and their boating accident in the South Pacific that nearly cost the life of the father, John Silverwood.

I was able to piece together the beginning, based on the stories being unraveled by the Silverwoods and their 4 children. They were sailing in the South Pacific, and something went terribly wrong. A freak storm hit and their catamaran was pounded by a huge wave against a razor-sharp reef. The mast fell on John and gave him a severe wound on his leg, which resulted in a massive loss of blood. If he was going to survive, they would have to get him medical attention quickly.

You can read their first-hand account in their book, Black Wave: A Family's Adventure at Sea and the Disaster that Saved Them.

The way they see it, this disaster saved their family. By suffering together, it caused them to grow stronger together and helped heal some wounds in their family. They chose to give thanks for each other and for life, which, prior to the accident, they just took for granted.

In the same way, Greg Mortenson's story, Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace...One School at a Time, tells the story of his personal disasters: his sister's untimely death; his failed attempt to conquer the world's second highest mountain, K2, in his sister's honor; his failure to even live a stable life; and how these failures led him to tremendous success at building schools for the poorest of the poor in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Neither of these stories would have had the same joyful endings if they first hadn't experienced adversity. While neither of these stories mention a Christian belief or motive, they have strong parallels to the life of Christ. First comes suffering. Then death. Finally, resurrection.

These two stories, in particular, have gotten me thinking about how I can use my own disasters and failures to grow stronger, to embrace life and family, and to promote peace in my own world. The fastings and deprivations of Lent aren't just about denying ourselves or losing a few unwanted pounds. The fastings of Lent are supposed to help us see what is really important in life. To know, love and serve Him who created us, and by doing so, to better serve those around us.