After the church and the empire had joined hands, the rhythm of the church year was overlaid on the rhythm of the ancient celebrations of humans.

Ash Wednesday, the day of penitence, became a massive event; a “full Nineveh moment” in the face of the “holy” church’s Jonah proclamation: “Repent, lest ye be damned!”

Sackcloth. Ashes. Solemnity. That was the prescription. Interestingly enough, the diagnosis was proclaimed by the entity who also claimed to have the cure. Religion tends to do that…

But the people, used to more festive holidays, demanded some revelry before the fast. Intrinsic in our human bones, divorced of any religious pietistic profundity, we all know that a fast is seen best through the lens of a feast, and vice versa. A little bit of denial needs a little bit of indulgence to truly know what you’re missing, right?

And so Carnival was declared, a time to fatten our stomachs, our spirits, and our souls before the sobriety of Lent.

Masks were handed out so that, if you were in hiding for a crime, you could come out of your shelter and join in the fun. A hall pass of sorts. Acts of extreme gluttony are best done anonymously, right? On Carnival, everyone is criminal in some way, everyone is queen and king of their universe for just a bit.

Carnival was a day for reclining, gesticulation, and for pretending we don’t fear fat and sumptuousness, if only for a minute.

And then comes today.

Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday is for remembering that time for bending a knee to mortality will come; for sure.

One day all masks fall.

As we lean into Mardi Gras:

“Carnival celebrates the unity of our human race as mortal creatures, who come into this world and depart from it without our consent, who must eat, drink, defecate, belch, and break wind in order to live, and procreate if our species is to survive. Our feelings bout this are ambiguous. To us as individuals, it is a cause for rejoicing that we are not alone, that all of us, irrespective of age or sex or rank or talent, are in the same boat.”

-W.H. Auden

My thought on the 12th Day of Christmas…

I saw an advertisement that said, with a Nativity scene in the background, “You know it’s just a myth, right?”

And the answer for Christians should be, “Yes. The nativity scene, and the nativity as described in Matthew and Luke, is largely mythical. But they’re full of meaning.”

Just because it’s a myth doesn’t mean it is meaningless. In fact, I’d say it’s so full of meaning that simple parameters can’t hold it. Luke and Matthew want us to see the cosmic dimension of Divine revelation: heavenly bearings, both angelic and planetary, play a part in it. Disparate parts of humanity, from lowly shepherds to learned star gazers, play a part in it.

It’s so huge, that it can’t be contained in fact. It’s a cosmic drama that must be told in dramatic form.

Yes, those live nativity scenes are largely fake. But they’re also ultra-true.

You don’t need to believe that Jesus was born in Bethlehem and visited by magi or shepherds to understand that God’s presence in the world shook things from floor to rafters.

In fact, I don’t believe those things, and still find deep truth and power in the story.

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And ran away to where
There were no rootless Christmas trees
Hung with candycanes and breakable stars

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And ran away to where
There were no gilded Christmas trees
And no tinsel Christmas trees
And no tinfoil Christmas trees
And no pink plastic Christmas trees
And no gold Christmas trees
And no black Christmas trees
And no powderblue Christmas trees
Hung with electric candles
And encircled by tin electric trains
And clever cornball relatives

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And ran away to where
No intrepid Bible salesmen
Covered the territory
In two-toned Cadillacs
And where no Sears Roebuck creches
Complete with plastic babe in manger
Arrived by parcel post
The babe by special delivery
And where no televisioned Wise Men
Praised the Lord Calvert Whiskey

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And ran away to where
No fat handshaking stranger
In a red flannel suit
And a fake white beard
Went around passing himself off
as some sort of North Pole saint
crossing the desert to Bethlehem
Pennsylvania
In a Volkswagen sled
Drawn by rollicking Adirondack reindeer
With German names
And bearing sacks of Humble Gifts
From Saks Fifth Avenue
For everybody’s imagined Christ child

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And ran away to where
No Bing Crosby carolers
Groaned of a tight Christmas
And where no Radio City angels
Iceskated wingless
Thru a winter wonderland
Into a jinglebell heaven
Daily at 8:30
With Midnight Mass matinees

Christ climbed down
From his bare tree
This year
And softly stole away into
Some anonymous soul
He waits again
An unimaginable
And impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
The very craziest
Of Second Comings

-Lawrence Ferlinghetti-