LUKY
SADLY contemplating the collapse of my most recent Lenten resolution, I have come to the conclusion that it is far easier to make efforts to improve one's artistic, scholastic, material or athletic prowess than to make them in order to become better schooled in a spiritual way.
On the way to my husband's work there was a golf course.
Often on a rainy day my husband would laugh when I spotted a golfer gamely handling his clubs or taking his endless walks in the pouring rain.
"Look at him", I would say. "Have you ever seen such dedication in your life?
There he is, poor man, dripping from head to foot, but does he run for shelter?
Not he!
If he were to make such sacrifices for God, his soul would shoot up to heaven like an arrow at the moment of death."
I felt the same way when I used to be a paying guest at the meetings of a group of obese ladies who were trying to reduce.
Some of them really did succeed in becoming "a slimmer, more youthful you".
Regrettably, their number did not include yours truly.
I might have lost weight too, but my trouble was that I never really entered into the spirit of the thing.
As I watched with scepticism the tremulous delight displayed by swiftly-shrinking star pupils while merit badges were being pinned on to their voluminous frocks, I'd be thinking:
"Why are we spending money to learn not to eat too much?
Why don't we rather stop overeating just because it's wrong?"
A lesson which every model, actor, student and athlete knows is that the only way to learn not to continue overdoing things which impede his progress in his field is by doing without them for a while.
Many centuries ago, the saints taught their followers the same thing.
This is why in Ireland during the months from April until September thousands of people make a pilgrimage to the island of Lough Derg.
When their boat arrives at the island, the pilgrims prepare to remain barefoot and fast for three days.
They recite the Stations walking along ruinous circuits on the island.
In front of the basilica, many crosses are erected.
Each pilgrim recites the Creed with arms extended in front of a cross.
Confessions are heard throughout the day.
The menu consists of black tea and hot water flavoured with salt and pepper.
To those who feel faint from hunger, dry bread is served.
During the first night no one sleeps. A vigil is held throughout the night in the Basilica.
The Bible is read and prayers are recited.
Early in the morning, the visiting priests begin celebraing their Masses for the day.
On the second night, the pilgrims get eight hours' sleep.
On the third day, still barefoot and fasting, they prepare to leave the island, having - in most cases - promised themselves a return visit.
The boats bringing the new pilgrims take those who have completed their visit back to the mainland.
With true Irish humour the Christian Brother who told us about Lough Derg concluded his story as follows:
"The incoming pilgrims are silent", he said. "Those that are leaving are singing hymns. . .and you don't have to ask why!"
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