On Easter I walked to church through drizzling rain. The bright parade of people, young and old, walked in ever-tightening lines into the church, all wearing their Sunday best, of course. As the minutes prior to the start of the Catholic Mass crept by, standing room inside gave way to standing in the rain.
My father made sure we showed up early because, “Every one shows up on Easter Sunday, even guys who don’t go to church anymore, like you.”
Ouch, but very true. As a lapsed Catholic, I don’t miss the Sunday services that became so routine over a childhood spent in catholic parochial school, as an altar boy, and later as a student at a Jesuit high school. But Easter somehow has a way of quadrupling the eternal Catholic guilt until even a guy like me has to show up. Read more »