Daily Archives: February 17, 2026

Pre-Lent 2026: The Mystery of Death

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An excellent piece from the pastoral constitution on the Church in the modern world of the Second Vatican Council and very appropriate on the eve of another Lenten season. While we do not like to talk about death and try to avoid at all costs, Death is the result of sin and is universal. Sooner or later it will claim us and all those whom we love. Death is part of the result of the curse that God our Creator placed on this world as a result of Adam and Eve’s first rebellion (Genesis 3.1-19). It is appropriate for Lent because during Lent we focus on doing our part in repairing our alienated relationship with God the Father, the Giver of Life, our life support. God, of course, has acted first on our behalf to achieve this reconciliation by becoming human to die for our sins that we might have life. The Father did this because he loves us more than we love ourselves. The excerpt below reminds us of this reality of Death and serves as a wake up call for us to get our minds right by getting our relationship with the Lord right, and that of course requires humility on our part. There is only one solution to the problem of Death and that solution is Jesus Christ because only Christ has died and conquered Death. It’s the paschal (Easter) mystery talked about below. Those who poo-poo all this are delusional and setting themselves up for the eternal destruction they fear most. Please don’t be among them or let them con you. Don’t ever be ashamed of the gospel. Ever. For those with ears to hear, listen and understand.

In the face of death the enigma of human existence reaches its climax. Man is not only the victim of pain and the progressive deterioration of his body; he is also, and more deeply, tormented by the fear of final extinction. But the instinctive judgment of his heart is right when he shrinks from, and rejects, the idea of a total collapse and definitive end of his own person. He carries within him the seed of eternity, which cannot be reduced to matter alone, and so he rebels against death. All efforts of technology, however useful they may be, cannot calm his anxieties; the biological extension of his life-span cannot satisfy the desire inescapably present in his heart for a life beyond this life.

Imagination is completely helpless when confronted with death. Yet the Church, instructed by divine revelation, affirms that man has been created by God for a destiny of happiness beyond the reach of earthly trials. Moreover, the Christian faith teaches that bodily death, to which man would not have been subject if he had not sinned, will be conquered; the almighty and merciful Savior will restore man to the wholeness that he had lost through his own fault. God has called man, and still calls him, to be united in his whole being in perpetual communion with himself in the immortality of the divine life. This victory has been gained for us by the risen Christ, who by his own death has freed man from death.

Faith, presented with solid arguments, offers every thinking person the answer to his questionings concerning his future destiny. At the same time, it enables him to be one in Christ with his loved ones who have been taken from him by death and gives him hope that they have entered into true life with God.

Certainly, the Christian is faced with the necessity, and the duty, of fighting against evil through many trials, and of undergoing death. But by entering into the paschal mystery and being made like Christ in death, he will look forward, strong in hope, to the resurrection.

This is true not only of Christians but also of all men of good will in whose heart grace is invisibly at work. Since Christ died for all men, and the ultimate vocation of man is in fact one, that is, a divine vocation, we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being united with this paschal mystery in a way known only to God.

Such is the great mystery of man, enlightening believers through the Christian revelation. Through Christ and in Christ light is thrown on the enigma of pain and death which overwhelms us without his Gospel to teach us. Christ has risen, destroying death by his own death; he has given us the free gift of life so that as sons in the Son we may cry out in the Spirit, saying: Abba, Father!

Gaudium et spes, nn. 18. 22

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Shrove Tuesday 2026: Kari Jenson Gold (FT): Deliver Us from Evil

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A post appropriate for Fat Tuesday. The woman is onto something very important. Lord have mercy indeed. For those with ears to hear, listen and understand.

In a recent New York Times article entitled “Freedom With a Side of Guilt: How Food Delivery Is Reshaping Mealtime,” we learn that almost three out of four restaurant orders nationwide are delivered, rather than actually enjoyed in the restaurant. The author, Priya Krishna, interviews a young woman who spends $300 a week, roughly a third of her salary, on delivery. Another woman works as a sommelier but, nonetheless, has most of her food delivered at home. As we learn, “She no longer feels the social pressure she once did to meet friends for dinner.” It seems that most of those interviewed by the Times feel vaguely guilty about delivery drivers and the environment, but not, of course, enough to inconvenience themselves. 

We also meet a couple from Atlanta, Kevin Caldwell and his husband, who spend about $700 a week to order in. They are, we are told, too busy raising their two young boys and working long hours to cook dinner. “His 4-year-old son doesn’t read yet, ‘but he can put together an order’ on the Chick-fil-A app, said Mr. Caldwell, 39.” 

Well. It’s hard to know where to begin. 

On the one hand, I too enjoy the occasional take-out dinner. When our daughter was young, every two weeks or so, we ordered pizza from our beloved neighborhood institution, V&T’s, on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The same husky voice always answered the phone, and she always called me “honey.” In those days, we paid the delivery man in cash, and the pizza arrived piping hot. 

On take-out night, I set the coffee table in the living room, rather than our apartment’s dining room table, but we still used candles and linen napkins. We sat on the floor, sometimes in our pajamas, and watched an old movie. It was a cozy, relaxing evening for all of us—a comforting family ritual. 

But when I contemplate the lives described in this article—a steady diet of restaurant or fast-food cooking, ugly and environmentally ruinous plastic containers, the obscene waste of money, and, most importantly, the absence of companionship and ritual—I am, quite frankly, horrified. It is not far-fetched to trace a direct line from DoorDash to civilizational collapse. 

I know nothing about Caldwell and his partner, but it is reasonable to wonder how they made their family. Did they order their babies online and have them delivered? Did they buy one woman’s egg and rent another’s womb? If so, they intentionally deprived their boys of a mother—the woman who fed the baby with her body in the womb, and who could have fed that baby with her milk outside the womb. 

Now the fathers tell us they are too busy “raising two young boys” to cook. But, you see, cooking is raising their boys—feeding their children real food, teaching them how to cook, how to set the table, how to sit still and converse, how to wash the dishes. This is parenting 101. If they are failing to do this, they are certainly not “raising” their sons. 

Not only has this couple, if my assumption is correct, willfully deprived their children of a mother. They have also failed at elemental parenting, in this case, the role traditionally filled by a—dare I say it—mother. Should we laugh or cry? One is tempted to call it child abuse. 

We have long known that one of the most important factors in predicting the health, both mental and physical, of a child is whether she eats dinner together with her family. A lovingly prepared, healthy meal, eaten around a table with loved ones, while engaging in conversation, is the glue holding everything else together. 

Thirty-six percent of American children are overweight. The number has tripled since the 1970s. Our food industry produces addictive non-foods, and our tech overlords create addictive social media. The average child spends forty-two to forty-nine hours a week on screens. 

But the rot begins in the home. When a parent, or indeed anyone, says they have no time to cook because they are working long hours, we must advise them to rethink their lives. Their priorities are upside down. We do not eat to work. We work so that we may eat—in the most joyous fashion possible. 

We are not machines who need fuel. We are human beings who require food and love, two separate needs but deeply intertwined. As a baby needs her mother for both food and love, so we need nourishing food cooked by loving hands. Food is love. A home without home-cooked food is no “home” at all. 

If it is disastrous that we no longer cook or eat together at home, it is almost equally depressing that three out of four restaurant meals are not actually consumed on the premises. One of life’s great joys is getting dressed up and eating in a wonderful restaurant. Delicious food, careful service, and a room lit to make everyone appear beautiful. Sparkling conversation, witty repartee, romance, and glamour—all are made possible by the magic spell cast over guests in a really good restaurant. 

Alas, over the past few decades, many restaurants, even those with superb food and high price tags, have abandoned their white tablecloths (metaphorical or actual), candles, and dress codes. They have opted for irony and hip vibes, for maximal cool and minimal ambiance. They are thus complicit in the problem, and one is increasingly likely to see Michelin starred food served to customers in sweatpants and baseball caps. 

When the eating-out experience is no different from eating at home in one’s pajamas, it is hardly surprising that so many are choosing to order out. If we’re all going to look like slobs, I’d rather do that in the privacy of my own home without having to look at other people. 

It was once customary to “dress for dinner,” even at home. Dinner was an occasion, an opportunity to come together to gossip, solve the world’s problems, or lament homework. And we began by thanking God for the blessings of his food. Gratitude to God, respect for each other; real food, real love. 

As a society, we are sick in mind and sick in body.

Read it all (free account registration required).

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Pre-Lent 2026: Everything About Shrove Tuesday You Wanted to Know but Were Afraid to Ask

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Culled from various sources from Logos Bible Software. The tendency to secularize Shrove Tuesday is typical of our fallen human condition and the spirit of Protestantism has done it little good. Would that we recover some of its penitential/confessional aspects for our own day and age. For those with ears to hear, listen and understand.

Historical Background
Shrove Tuesday emerged in medieval England as a day devoted to confession of sins in preparation for the onset of Lent. The term itself derives from the Old English verb “shrive,” which refers to the practice of imparting penance and absolution.

Initially, the observance carried profound spiritual weight. Shrovetide functioned as a season for confession, absolution, and reconciliation before the solemnities of Lent and Passiontide and Easter. However, the character of the celebration shifted over time. As Lent itself became devoted to confession and repentance throughout the entire season, the specific emphasis on pre-Lenten confession diminished, and Shrove Tuesday increasingly centered on feasting and merrymaking—practices that would be restricted during the forty days ahead.

This transformation reflects a broader European pattern. Shrovetide paralleled the Continental tradition of Carnival, which also originated in the Middle Ages as a pre-Lenten period of feasting and frivolity culminating on the Tuesday before Lent. The eating of cakes, pancakes, and pastries became central to these celebrations as a practical means of consuming eggs, butter, milk, and sugar—foods historically forbidden during Lent—and Shrove Tuesday’s French designation “Mardi Gras” (Fat Tuesday) and English name “Pancake Day” both reflect this culinary history.

Beyond food consumption, Carnival evolved into a broader “farewell to flesh” involving indulgence and loosened social restrictions; Renaissance Europeans threw projectiles at one another, and by the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, masked performances and temporary role-reversals—where lower classes dressed as nobility—became common features. The Protestant Reformation later discontinued Carnival celebrations due to their tendency toward overindulgence, though the observance of Lent itself persisted.

Theological Significance
Shrove Tuesday’s theological significance centers on this penitential dimension—a structured opportunity for spiritual self-examination before the forty-day season of Lenten observance.

The practice traces back to at least 1000 A.D., when it was originally observed as a day of confession and penitence in preparation for Ash Wednesday and Lent. The custom emphasized receiving absolution through the sacrament of penance in readiness for the liturgical season ahead. This penitential focus remains theologically central: the day offers an excellent opportunity to reflect on one’s thoughts, words, deeds, and behaviors over preceding months, a valuable self-examination that fosters spiritual growth.

However, the observance has undergone significant transformation. In recent centuries, Shrove Tuesday shifted toward feasting in preparation for Lenten fasting, as people needed to consume restricted foods like sugar, leavened flour, and eggs before the fast began. Shrove Tuesday is now known as Mardi Gras in many areas and has largely lost its significance as a day of repentance. What originally involved confession gradually transformed into consuming rich foods and eventually into sports and merrymaking.

From a Protestant perspective, since the Bible does not mention Ash Wednesday or Lent, Shrove Tuesday is not a biblical observance, and these days are not required of Christians—their observance remains entirely a matter of personal conviction. Yet any day to remember Christ and His sacrifice holds spiritual value, making Shrove Tuesday potentially meaningful for those who observe it as a deliberate moment for confession, repentance, and renewed commitment before entering Lent’s contemplative season.

Shrove Tuesday Traditions
Shrove Tuesday traditions reflect a fascinating evolution from penitential observance to festive celebration. Originally observed in medieval England as a day for confessing sins before Lent began, the day’s name derives from the practice of receiving absolution. However, as the entire Lenten season became devoted to confession and repentance, Shrove Tuesday and the week preceding it shifted toward feasting and merrymaking—activities restricted during Lent itself.

The most enduring tradition involves food. In the Middle Ages, people abstained from meat and animal products during Lent, including milk, cheese, and eggs, so families prepared pancakes on Shrove Tuesday to deplete their stores of eggs, milk, butter, and fat. This practice explains both the French name “Mardi Gras” (Fat Tuesday) and the English “Pancake Day”.

Beyond pancakes, Carnival traditions—Shrove Tuesday’s European counterpart—involved consuming cakes, pastries, and other rich foods to use up ingredients prohibited during Lent. At its medieval height, Carnival included satirical performances and mask-wearing, with lower classes sometimes dressing as nobility in humorous role-reversals. People throughout Renaissance Europe threw projectiles like mud, flour, and eggs at one another. In England specifically, sports and football games were common, while nobility celebrated Shrove Tuesday evenings with plays and masques.

By the nineteenth century, wilder customs evolved into flower battles, masked balls, and parades—variations found today throughout Europe and the Americas, including New Orleans’s famous Mardi Gras celebrations. The religious dimension persists as well: Pope Benedict XIV instituted the “Forty Hours of Carnival” in 1748, during which prayers were offered before the exposed Blessed Sacrament, with a plenary indulgence granted to participants.

How Shrove Tuesday Relates to Lent
Shrove Tuesday functions as a threshold moment between ordinary time and the penitential season of Lent. The relationship between the two observances has shifted significantly over time. As Lent itself became devoted to confession and repentance throughout the entire season, the urgency to confess specifically on Shrove Tuesday diminished, and the day transformed into a period emphasizing feasting and celebration—activities that would be restricted during Lent. This reorientation reflects a practical concern: the eating of cakes, pancakes, or other pastries served as a way of consuming eggs, butter, milk, and sugar—foods once prohibited during Lent. The French name “Mardi Gras” or “Fat Tuesday,” along with England’s “Pancake Day,” both capture this history.

Lent comprises 40 days preceding Easter and recalls Jesus’s 40-day wilderness sojourn. while it serves as a time of repentance and preparation for marking Christ’s death and resurrection, marked by prayer, abstinence, and charitable acts. Shrove Tuesday thus occupies a liminal space—the final opportunity for indulgence before entering this austere period. After fulfilling the obligation to confess, the faithful were permitted to engage in amusements on the eve of Lent, creating a deliberate contrast between the revelry of Shrove Tuesday and the discipline that follows. The two observances define each other: one celebrates what Lent restricts, while Lent gives meaning to the temporary license Shrove Tuesday permits.

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