Yesterday, Monday, the 15th of November, Orthodox Christmas Lent started. After a banging “ash-Sunday” the night before, when you are supposed to have a bit of a bash and use up all the no-no foods in the household (a literal translation of the Romanian term would be “leaving your house dry”), Monday morning should loom full of hope, good thoughts and fortitude. So what is Orthodox lent exactly?
From wee-school-age, we were taught in religious class that it was a personal choice, a contract, if you wish, between you and your God (“the” God, whatever...). A bona fide agreement to lead, for the next 40 days, a life of purity of mind, body and soul. Alimentary changes means giving up meat, milk, all dairy products. Cigarettes and alcohol are also a no-no. Sex outside of marriage should go, as should petty and mean thoughts, gestures and behaviour. There are easier and harsher ways to keep lent, and even at its harshest there are allowances for fish, wine and butter on certain specific days. All this should be accompanied by a renewal of your personal relationship with The-Man-Upstairs, a time of prayer, introspection and overhaul of your entire persona.
And since you've been such a good boy/girl til Christmas, I would normally cinically say, maybe even Santa will show up on Christmas Eve.
At best, this always seemed to me an extreme, almost fanatical way of manifesting one's faith, a one-sided “contract” with for few, and reasonably long-term (after-life-long) results. At worst, a task humanly, and psychologically impossible.
So as I was sitting there enjoying my big weakness, a large caramel cappuccino with vanilla sprinkles on top and a menthol cigarette, discussing the cons and ridiculousness of lent - rather flippantly - with my classmates, the choice was made.
I don't come from a religious background, I have faith, but don't practise it, and as for prayer, well... I like some coffee with my milk, I'm addicted to pastries and I love cheese-toasties. I enjoy a beer or three at a party, love my coffee+cigarette routine, and have mean and/or “impure” thoughts several times an hour. I have little to no will-power, and explaining this to friends, family and, oh, hell, the boyfriend, will be a nightmare.
But, for entirely selfish reasons, I am taking this as a personal challenge. I will strive to keep as much of lent as is in my power, stubbornly, making excuses when I can't or won't do it, probably adapting it to suit my needs and moods along the way (and stating high and mighty it was like this all along), and all in all moaning about it the way through.
Well, for anybody out there reading this, the little exhibitionist piece of me thanks you and adores it. It is the age of blogs, you-tubbers, and reality TV shows, after all.
As for myself, diary, journal, blog, whatever I choose to call this, it will either remind me why I set out to do this, or make me realise that I am totally, and utterly, one nut short of a pecan-pie.
