Good Friday

Ok, so I bought the sausage biscuits for Betty without moral qualms: I didn’t eat meat today. As an added bonus God arranged for the counter person at McDonald’s to put in an extra hash browns for free. That I ate.

I had been baptized and had my First Holy Communion (always referred to as such by a Catholic, lapsed or otherwise, of my age) pre-Vatican II so my formative years included no meat on Friday and certainly not on Good Friday. This year I tried to be mindful not to eat meat on Fridays during Lent and was mostly successful.

As a kid, Friday night supper was Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks, Kraft macaroni and cheese, or Campbell’s cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I didn’t eat Kraft for 10 years after leaving my mother’s house and still don’t do Mrs. Paul’s.

Some of my happiest childhood memories are of being in church with my mother on First Fridays. I can still she her face while looking at The Virgin, a look of true devotion and tranquility. And I’ve got to say that even though I don’t believe what the church teaches (the rules and regs of it anyway) I truly resent how the hierarchy betrayed the trust of the people.

I don’t think Jesus died so that the ecclesiastical power structure could maintain itself.