March: Saint Stephen of Obazine, or What I Plan To Do For Lent Without Giving Up Chocolate

I've decided what I'm going to do for Lent, and it allows me to still eat chocolate.  I blogged last week, asking for suggestions about how I should observe that time between Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday.  That's around forty days of sacrifice.  Last year, you'll remember, I prayed for people who'd hurt me in some way in the past.  It was a tough assignment, but I did it.  However, I don't want to repeat myself this year.  I lecture my students enough about plagiarism.  I don't want to plagiarize last Easter season.

The one suggestion I received on my post of last week was from my friend Wondertwin.  She suggested I give up sarcasm, which, she correctly points out, literally means "to cut flesh."  It's a good suggestion, one that I seriously considered.  If you haven't noticed, I tend to use sarcasm a little bit, in my writing life and day-to-day life, as well.  But I don't use sarcasm to harm other people.  Most of my sarcasm is directed at myself and my own failings.  I don't think giving up sarcasm is enough of a sacrifice for me.  Plus, sarcasm is so natural to me that I know I'll fuck up on Ash Wednesday and give up hope by this Sunday.  And it would make for some pretty boring blogs to boot.

One of today's feast saints, Stephen of Obazine, knew a little bit about sacrifice.  After he became a priest in the twelfth century, Stephen decided to move to the forest of Obazine, France, with another priest to "live a life of mortification and penance."  He eventually established a monastery and convent in Obazine for those who wished to follow his example.  A day with Stephen consisted of only one meal and, throughout the rest of the day, "prayer, reading, and manual labor."  Stephen knew one or two things about Lent, I would guess.

Well, I know the suspense is killing you.  You're dying to know what sacrifice I'm going to make for the next month and a half.  Well, besides sarcasm, I also have a natural affinity for pessimism.  Most mornings, when my alarm goes off at 4:15 a.m.,  I don't jump up and say, "Another day, God."  I usually roll over and think, "God, another day."  So, this Lent, I'm going to try to remain positive, to look for the rainbow instead of the rain cloud.  Now, the way I'm going to do this is simple, and puts into use one of the gifts I possess:  poetry.

Every day, I'm going to write a poem of praise or thanksgiving and post it.  Now, this might not seem like much of a sacrifice, but I can guarantee you that, by next Monday, I'm going to be pulling out what little hair I have left, trying to find something to be happy or thankful for.  Think of me as a male version of Debbie Downer from Saturday Night Live.

So stay tuned for Saint Marty's Lenten psalms.  Buckle your seat belts.  It may be a bumpy ride.



Saint Marty and his journal