My autobiography - Lent

The biggest feast day in the Catholic calendar, Easter is marked by sacrifice, suffering and sadness – and, of course, salvation. In the period leading up to Easter: Lent,  we had to give up something. Since I had no particular notable vices at this age, I invariably plumped for chocolate. It’s surprising how much chocolate a child can acquire without actually spending any money, much by way of grandparents. By the time Easter arrived, I had usually accumulated a sizable stash: Mars bars, Marathons, Maltesers, Freddos, Wagon Wheels and so on. I must admit the frustration of abstaining from these sweet delights was eased somewhat by the knowledge that I would soon be able to gorge on them to my heart's content. Apart from this relatively small personal sacrifice made in honour of Jesus, Lent also involved having to do the rather more emotionally harrowing Stations of the Cross. Fourteen in all, they are situated at regular intervals along the interiors walls of the church. Each station depicts a significant scene in the life of Jesus; from the moment he is sentenced to death, leading up to when he is laid in the tomb. In our church, these scenes attractively depicted in framed wooden carvings, with gold Roman numerals indicating the number of the Station. We, the class, would walk round the walls, stopping at each station where one of us gave a brief reading, describing the scene. We would say a few prayers, and then move on to the next Station. Apart from our young hearts being wracked with sorrow at the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, it was also a physically painful experience having to stand around for ages in the freezing cold church - you could see your breath. All in all, it was quite an ordeal, which I suppose is fitting regarding the subject matter.