Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.
So yesterday was Mardi Gras. (“Fat Tuesday” for the francophobes among us... Or is that “Freedom Tuesday?” I can never keep up with the trends in idiocy.) And though it passed this year without any recognition on my part, I imagine that many a bead was thrown, many a tit (or cock) was flashed, and many a libation was consumed.
I can only imagine that Mardi Gras is a holiday anticipated hotly by the party-supply-goods manufacturers the world over; specifically, the makers of those strings of shiny plastic beads. I mean seriously, Mardi Gras must be the one day a year upon which the CFOs of such companies expend the most energy forecasting, budgeting, sweating over, and gearing up for, and upon which, much like the chocolate makers of the world around Valentine’s Day, their livelihoods ultimately depend.
Just something to ponder.
And if yesterday was Fat Tuesday, well then, what does that mean today is? Why, Ash Wednesday of course! And much in the vein of pondering the workings of the worldwide plastic bead chain of supply, I now find myself wondering about the existence of some sort of religious ash industry.
Let’s think about this. Seriously. Today, hundreds of thousands of good Christians (millions, even—sorry, I don’t have official stats on the subject, and I’d hate to irresponsibly overstate) are walking around with filth on their foreheads. Where does it all come from? Who supplies it? And how far in advance must the burning begin? And what exactly is burned, anyway? I seem to recall some shred of a memory from my childhood in which we were told it was the “palms from Palm Sunday.” Symbolically, at least... And I’m sure we all assume that whatever it is, it is floral in origin.
But I ask you, what happens if, in the midst of ministering to his parishoners, some priest somewhere, while dipping into his yearly ration of holy soot, comes across a bit of bone? Or a tooth? I imagine that, in order to avoid a mass exodus (ha!), he just pushes it aside and continues unflappably with his aves and thanks-be-to-gods.
Oh ok, I’ll stop.
I can only imagine that Mardi Gras is a holiday anticipated hotly by the party-supply-goods manufacturers the world over; specifically, the makers of those strings of shiny plastic beads. I mean seriously, Mardi Gras must be the one day a year upon which the CFOs of such companies expend the most energy forecasting, budgeting, sweating over, and gearing up for, and upon which, much like the chocolate makers of the world around Valentine’s Day, their livelihoods ultimately depend.
Just something to ponder.
And if yesterday was Fat Tuesday, well then, what does that mean today is? Why, Ash Wednesday of course! And much in the vein of pondering the workings of the worldwide plastic bead chain of supply, I now find myself wondering about the existence of some sort of religious ash industry.
Let’s think about this. Seriously. Today, hundreds of thousands of good Christians (millions, even—sorry, I don’t have official stats on the subject, and I’d hate to irresponsibly overstate) are walking around with filth on their foreheads. Where does it all come from? Who supplies it? And how far in advance must the burning begin? And what exactly is burned, anyway? I seem to recall some shred of a memory from my childhood in which we were told it was the “palms from Palm Sunday.” Symbolically, at least... And I’m sure we all assume that whatever it is, it is floral in origin.
But I ask you, what happens if, in the midst of ministering to his parishoners, some priest somewhere, while dipping into his yearly ration of holy soot, comes across a bit of bone? Or a tooth? I imagine that, in order to avoid a mass exodus (ha!), he just pushes it aside and continues unflappably with his aves and thanks-be-to-gods.
Oh ok, I’ll stop.
posted by P/O at 3/01/2006 03:53:00 PM
2 Comments:
Do all Christians were the ashes or is it just the Catholics? As a former Catholic, I only know it from that perspective. Also, no meat today or any Friday for the rest of lent. While I don't eat meat, I feel the urge to eat a burger tonight.
Scratch my last comment. My bosses at the restaurant are Lutheran and they came in with ashes on their foreheads last night.
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