Life in recent weeks has been a giant blob of brain fog, aches and pains, and upper respiratory congestion.
Despite my ambivalence about all things Catholic these days, I am actually thinking seriously about Lent on the eve of Ash Wednesday for the first time in a couple of years. But rather than the medieval-to-pre-Vatican-II faith I’ve been steeped in over the past few years, I’m stepping into the mid- to late 20th century with my main Lenten reading (except for some focus on the Gospels).
I seriously doubt Joan Chittister, Henri Nouwen, Dorothy Day, or — God forbid — Pope Francis would make any reading list at our current parish. And that’s why this is at the top of my Lenten book pile this year.
