Kelley Mathews
More Than a Party
Growing up Catholic, in South Louisiana, I experienced Mardi Gras as others experienced Valentine’s Day, or Mother’s Day. It was a regular part of our annual calendar. We took a whole week off school, sort of a second spring break—the “real” spring break always coming during Passion week, before Easter. As I moved up into college, we only got two (really, three) days off, but even then my Texas friends had no idea why I was free to visit them in the middle of February or March when they were in school. “Mardi Gras,” I’d say, and they would sit silently on the other side of the phone line. It just didn’t compute. But we always had a great time visiting.
Why? Because I didn’t like Mardi Gras. When I was a senior in high school, a big group of classmates planned to rent a hotel room in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. My parents wouldn’t allow me to join them. I fumed. I sulked. I whined. I acted like I was 12, not 18. But I stayed home. And when they returned with their stories, I was glad I had been kept from experiencing that. Reminiscing recently with some of those same friends, I was reminded, “There’s no way we should all have made it home alive. That was crazy.” The hedonistic ribald partying was not my scene, and I was always glad my parents spared me from that. So later, whenever possible, I left town during that week.
While Mardi Gras encourages the worst in us, Lent draws our focus to the best in us. We move from selfish indulgence to sacrifice and reflection. But in ourselves alone, we will never be “our best.” Only in Christ can that happen. Giving up our favorite whatever isn’t going to make us more holy. No amount of self-sacrifice will earn God’s affection or approval. Any Lenten practices aimed at earning favor with God will fail. It’s easy to forget that all the doing, the giving up or taking on, the sacrificing, the praying, etc. is not the point. Any such practices one chooses to do should help one refocus more on God and less on self.
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