Totus Porkus

I gave up chips for Lent and it’s killing me. And, no, I’m not talking about the Erik Estrada TV show (though I inadvertently give that up every Lent, among other seasons). I’m talking about potato chips, tortilla chips, Fritos, etc. Actually I’ve lumped any type of salty snack food into the (snack) mix to up the degree of difficulty.

And, as I say, it’s killing me. Especially the other night when the family went out to a Mexican restaurant for dinner and I had to stare at them eating the complimentary chips and salsa. Funny that we barely got through one basket when we normally go through two.

Why chips? Because I really, really like them. I don’t have a sweet tooth but I do have a salt tooth. I don’t load up my food with salt; I just like to eat salty foods. And I figured if I was going in for the self-denial thing it had to hurt. And it does. Though Bryna claims it hurts her more than me because of my constant complaining. Let’s face it, carrots are crunchy, yes, but they’re just not good substitutes for a bag of Doritos.

In Lenten giving-it-up circles there’s always that debate over whether Sundays count or not. Since every Sunday is a day of the resurrection, even during Lent, many believe in forgoing their Lenten discipline on the Lord’s Day. I agree theologically but disagree in practice. If I’m giving something up, I want to give it for the entire season. Otherwise I’m just giving something up for six days in a row and what’s the challenge in that? Plus it will make the contrast between Lent and Easter that much more striking. It’s the same reason the crosses are veiled during Lent — they seem to shine even brighter at the Easter Vigil.

So when it comes to Lent, I’m a totus porkus kind of guy — whole hog or nothin’. And I’m looking forward to pigging out on Easter Day.

To Keep a True Lent

Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

I admit I can’t compete with my friend and fellow blogger/priest Scott Gunn’s offering of daily Lenten hymns on Seven Whole Days. And I’m not even going to try. But I will provide you with this classic Lenten poem by 17th century Anglican priest and poet Robert Herrick. Enjoy:

To Keep a True Lent

Is this a Fast, to keep
The larder lean?
And clean
From fat of veals and sheep?
Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
To fill
The platter high with fish?
Is it to fast an hour,
Or ragg’d to go,
Or show
A down-cast look and sour?
No: ’tis a Fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
And meat
Unto the hungry soul,
It is to fast from strife
And old debate,
And hate;
To circumcise thy life.
To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin;
And that’s to keep thy Lent.

Ashes R Us

So on Ash Wednesday a couple members of the British media thought Vice President Joe Biden’s ashes were a “bruise.” I could rail against the ever-widening disconnect between the secular media and the liturgical calendar. I could rant about the number of news outlets that claim Roman Catholics are the only ones who mark Ash Wednesday. But I’m not.

Because the real controversy, in my mind, is the lousy job Biden’s priest did in administering the ashes. Any priest can make a smudge. It takes a true artiste like myself to make an acceptable cross on a parishioner’s forehead. And let’s be honest. Biden’s receding hairline presents the perfect canvas. There are no golden locks standing in the way; no bangs to contend with. So I’m not sure what the problem was.

For the record (and I mean that in a news reporting kind of way), the media mavens in question were Sky News correspondents Kay Burley and Greg Milam. Here’s the transcript: Burley asked Milam about the mark as they monitored Biden’s remarks: “What’s happened to his head? I’m sure that’s what everybody’s asking at home.” After a short pause, Milam replied, “Yes, I don’t know. It’s a simple answer. Maybe we’ll get a chance to find out a little later.” Burley then said, “It looks like he walked into a door, doesn’t it? I’m sure that’s one of the questions that the networks will be asking him.”

She’s obviously confused Biden with Gerald Ford. Turns out Burley, though British, is not an Anglican but a (clearly) lapsed Catholic. She quickly apologized saying, “I know I’m a very bad Catholic. I know I should know that today is Ash Wednesday and that’s why he’d got ash across his forehead. I’ve said three Hail Marys, everything is going to be fine.”

Finally, as a reminder that RC’s are not the only ones who mark the first day of Lent with Ash Wednesday, a seminary classmate of mine, the Rev. Lane Hensley, had his picture in the “Ash Thursday” edition of the Chicago Tribune distributing ashes at a train station. You can read about his experiences here.

The Bishop is Coming! The Bishop is Coming!

Yes, it’s true. Bishop Cathy Roskam is coming to All Saints’ this Sunday to make an official visitation on behalf of the Diocese of New York. The 200+ parishes in the diocese get a bishop once every two years and we were due.

Officially, she will meet with the Vestry, examine our parish register, and do Confirmations. But beyond the canonical duties, episcopal visitations remind us of our connection to something bigger than our individual congregations. While we live out our lives as disciples of the risen Christ in a particular parochial context, we are also part of something that transcends the bounds of the parish community. Namely: the Diocese of New York, the national Episcopal Church, the worldwide Anglican Communion, and the communion of saints that encompasses all the saints and angels and faithful departed who have ever walked the path of Jesus.

While larger parishes (and there are a bunch of them in New York) tend to get bishops on big liturgical days like Pentecost and All Saints’, smaller congregations get them on lesser days like the 5th Sunday in Lent (this year) or the Sunday after Easter (two years ago). I’m not complaining since this makes intuitive sense but it’s harder to have a big celebration at the end of Lent (Woo hoo the bishop’s here! Let’s get penitential!).

I’m lucky to have served in dioceses (Maryland and New York) with great bishops. Because, let’s face it, visitations have the potential to be pretty awkward. The rector plays host but it’s also a bit like having the boss to dinner — with the boss making the meal and helping to serve it.

When I was in seminary in Chicago the Roman Catholic archbishop, Cardinal Francis George, had a lousy reputation among parish clergy. Granted he had to succeed the late and exceedingly popular Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. But he developed the nickname “Francis the Corrector” for his penchant to correct the smallest liturgical detail at the parishes he visited. I can’t imagine the clergy looked forward to his visits a whole lot.

I am looking forward to an exciting Sunday morning and, anyway, I did get a break from writing a sermon this week.

About Face(book)

So after announcing that I was giving up e-mail and Facebook for Lent (after 6 pm), word has gotten out. Since I didn’t give up talking to reporters for Lent, I was quoted in an article titled “Fasting from Facebook.” It’s an interesting and well-written article by Lisa Hamilton of Episcopal Life Media which you can read in its entirety here.

Below is the excerpt where I’m quoted:

The Rev. Tim Schenck, rector at All Saints Episcopal Church, Briarcliff, New York, considered giving up Facebook completely for Lent. But, he said in an e-mail interview, “since I view social networking sites as ways to connect with people, I didn’t feel this was an appropriate Lenten discipline. Plus, my parish has its own group on Facebook made up of parishioners. Lent is a time to stay connected.”

Instead, Schenck is denying himself Facebook, e-mail or Internet surfing after 6 p.m. during Lent.

“So far, so good,” he reported via an e-mail sent at 2:36 p.m. “Though the first few days were brutal (especially when I heard my BlackBerry buzzing during dinner on Ash Wednesday).” When he checked in the morning, the message was spam.

Meanwhile, Schenck has found time to read a Bible story with his young sons each night. They decided to take on this spiritual discipline after their father explained his Lenten practice to them.

“I’ve always seen Lent as a way to ‘get back to (spiritual) basics,'” Schenck wrote. “And nothing strips away the clutter of modern life quite like unplugging yourself for awhile. By being accessible to others 24/7 — and feeling the need to respond immediately — the potential exists to put ourselves rather than God at the center of our lives. Intentionally unplugging, even for brief periods, helps realign that balance.”

So much for that reading appointed for Ash Wednesday that reads, “Beware of practicing your piety before others” (Mt 6:1). Maybe next year I’ll give up telling people about my Lenten disciplines and just let everyone guess.

EpiscoPeep

There’s just something about the Peep. The combination of Yellow #5, sticky marshmallow, and a vaguely bird-like shape is strangely compelling. I have a fascination with Peeps in the same way I’m enamored with Elvis, Spam, and RVs. Plus they’ve become a uniquely American symbol of our Lord’s resurrection (yes, that sound you hear is Jesus spinning in his empty grave).

It’s easy enough to get a Peep fix on the internet: there are literally hundreds of websites devoted to these multi-colored siamese quintuplets. Think I’m kidding? Just click here for a gigantic list of Peep links. You’ll find answers to any possible Peep question — like “I wonder what a Peep looks like when it’s microwaved?” or “What happens to a Peep if it’s left soaking in chocolate milk for 24 hours?”

I’ve had Peeps on the brain ever since my friend Sharon Tillman, Communications Director for the Diocese of Maryland, asked me to be a celebrity judge for their “All God’s Peeps” contest. Now, granted, Sharon needs some remedial education on the definition of “celebrity.” But they are holding the first ever (I mean ever in the history of the entire world) contest for people to create Peep-based dioramas of Bible stories.

This is brilliant! What better way to combine the Lenten discipline of reading Scripture with the best-known secular symbol of Easter. I’m not sure how I’d feel seeing a Peep nailed to a cross but I say bring it on. Oh, and if you win? The grand prize is a Lennox china Peep.

Bunny Slasher

I didn’t have anything to do with slashing this poor woman’s five-foot tall inflatable Easter bunny. I swear!

I have an alibi. I was running my church’s Wednesday Night Lenten Program last night. I have witnesses! And a parish full of lawyers!

I can’t deflate these things by telekenesis. And believe me I’ve tried. All Advent long I tried to deflate giant blow-up Snowmen and Christmas Shreks by staring hard at them in horrified disbelief. But it never worked. So don’t blame me. I was just an innocent, if disapproving, bystander. Here’s the article in this morning’s local paper.