Breakfast for dinner

I have celebrated Mardi Gras a few times before. Until last night I'd never celebrated Shrove Tuesday.

I've had more than my share of pancakes in church, granted. It was part of the understanding by which my Boy Scout troop could use the church facilities; we'd do brunches after church a few times a year. Last night was also the first night I've had pancakes and sausages in a church building.

An entire room, half-empty, a number of people I don't know, introversion, what to do? Gamer wisdom kicked in: Sit with my back to a wall. And so I did, as best I could. (Gamer wisdom is actually sit with your back to a corner. There weren't nearly enough.)

I chose an empty table. Simply by showing up I'd left H. stranded at the health office; not having anybody directly sit next to me would give me an excuse should I suddenly need to excuse myself. So of course it filled up incredibly quickly.

Shrove Tuesday dinner was quite enjoyable. The only hitch came in turning off the fire alarm at the end; I'm not sure if the church was able to before the fire department arrived.

Latin Mass with Granny

Sunday was spent in Pennsylvania with my 96-year-old grandmother. She's feeling her age now, and relying on a walker to get around; going to church is a challenge she doesn't feel up to.

As such, for the first time in my life with Grandma, we didn't spend Sunday morning going to church. We spent Sunday morning watching church on TV. It was the first time I've ever done that before - and, also, the first time that I've ever seen a Catholic service using Latin before.

On the merits of liturgy

This was me, six weeks ago, "in which religion is a relationship too":

But ever since I came back, I've discovered that I can find God in that "religion." That I was moved to share the Eucharist, Elevation and Fraction and queueing up and all. That those creeds and sacraments move me. That they are sacraments; in them everything is brought together and I... relate.

In which religion is a relationship too

Several years ago, I was talking with Chris about the "personal relationship with God" routine. I don't buy the "personal relationship with God" routine, especially not one that argues from there that Christianity isn't a religion...

Chris was the one who went down that line, and I was going to expand that passing comment into a rant against began saying when I communicated myself again a few weeks ago.

It was going to be a rant; the original version of this post began "Relationship is the freebase of the masses," and it went from there gloriously. I bounced it off a friend or two and it was met with some approval.

But then I read dynamic (r)evolution, who linked to RELEVANT on the matter, and I lost the heart to rant for a little bit. Oh, I will, because that way I can add the "regular writing" tag to this whole thing; but today I'm going to reflect, first.

Communicating myself: 6/3/2012

Several years ago, I was talking with Chris about the "personal relationship with God" routine. I don't buy the "personal relationship with God" routine, especially not one that argues from there that Christianity isn't a religion. (I get the point he was trying to make, but it was still simply wrong; other religions are significantly different, but they are not simply magical-going-through-the-motions, and it's bullshit to claim that "Christianity" - by which he meant Bible study - is both magically exempted from that and the true, rightful practice of what was first done in Antioch.)

In the end, to stop his well-intentioned efforts to proselytize me, I told him very simply that I did not attend church, and if and when I was ready to do so, I would do so with integrity, and not a minute before.

A single tongue of flame

Ever since I got back to Connecticut, I've been rereading To Dance With God, a book I have no memory of my family ever having been without. I remember reading it before, and not understanding a word of what it was saying. Now, 20 years later, aware of the flow of Catholic mass and the liturgical calendar, it means more to me.

Yesterday Mom asked me about how to celebrate Pentecost. "Fire," I answered. By lighting a fire. Windsocks, pinwheels, kites for the wind; but when the sun went down, by lighting a fire.