Good Friday

I love Easter.  Not so much for the eggs and hot cross buns, well I lie, they are some of the best parts of Easter.   However, I love Easter Thursday Mass.  It is the best and loveliest Mass of the whole year.  The Saturday Mass is great but seems to go for hours, maybe because it does go on for hours.  After Mass on Saturday I get to eat or sorts of things that I had given up over Lent.  One year I gave up cake and biscuits so couldn't even have a cake for my birthday.  Now I tend to give up stuff that I wouldn't eat anyway.  I would try to give up swearing but I am afraid that I would have broken that little promise in the first half hour.  I think perhaps giving up making the bed or giving up doing the dishes would be easier. Actually, you are not supposed to boast about what you are giving up.  Evidently God wouldn't like it.  Personally I am sure that He has much more to do than check out what you have or have not offered up.

Every Easter the good Catholics go to confession and the bad Catholics like me either stay away or pretend they have been and still go up to take Communion.  Now that is another thing that the good Lord probably doesn't give a toss about.  Sometimes I am in Melbourne for Easter and go to St. Francis Church in Elizabeth Street.  They don't know if you have confessed about any wrong doings during the time since last confession so I happily go up without so much as a guilty conscience.  The trouble for me is that I never really think I have anything to confess.  Hence the reason I am a bad Catholic.  I just cannot conceive that telling a Priest that you have lusted after Sean Connery or perhaps failed giving up stuff for Lent is all that interesting.  I have certainly not killed or maimed anyone.  So what can I say to the poor man who must be bored to death.  Perhaps I could liven thing up telling him that I have stolen the silver from my old Grandmother's trouseau or cheated a poor pensioner of some of their pension money.  How many Hail Mary's would I get for a bit of lusting; who knows?  I certainly don't because I wouldn't tell the dear man if I lusted or not.

Some years my birthday is actually at Easter.  When I was 9, my birthday was on Good Friday so I didn't know whether to be happy it was my birthday or sad because Jesus was dead.  I was torn.  The other thing about birthdays at Easter is that you get Easter eggs for a present.  It is like birthdays at Christmas.  One big present instead of two.  Talk about being ripped off.

So here we are back where we started, I love Easter and always have plans of exactly what I will do, however, I rarely achieve anything because of my inherent laziness.  I guess I will just pick up my book and have a nice quiet read, have fish for tea and feel quite virtuous.  Amen.