LENT WITH UNCLE MICHAEL

Eileen Cichello

My sister Terry, brother Brian and I spent just one Lent with Uncle Michael. One was enough! We had been sent back to Ireland to attend boarding school for several years and lived with Uncle Michael for nine months, boning up on Gaelic, Irish history and Latin, getting ready for the boarding school curriculum.

Uncle Michael was a priest in Newport, a small village in County Mayo in the west of Ireland. To my twelve-year-old eyes, he stood six foot six. When I saw him years later, I found to my amazement that he probably stood five nine. That man had presence!

He held himself ramrod straight and spoke to us of being soldiers for Christ. The idea of fighting appealed to me but not the idea of sacrifice or that the fight would be against my own weak nature.

Lent was ushered in with ashes on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday. Uncle Michael had already announced that he would be giving up his ever-present cigarettes for Lent and we would be giving up sweets. We'd say the Rosary every night, attend Mass every day.

Uncle Michael was a formidable figure at all times. Take away his cigarettes and you didn't want to tangle with him, especially as the weeks dragged on. You watched your P's & Q's and stayed out of his way as much as possible.

To complicate my life still further, my sister Terry had a single focus in life. Her goal was to be a saint. My goal was to give her as many opportunities for martyrdom as possible. We both succeeded at our tasks.

Of course, before Lent was too far along, I snuck into Chambers, the local store with a divine selection of sweets. There I purchased a bagful of my favorites, licorice pipes and toffee. I'd eat them on the sly. Terry knew and displayed a most unsaintly smirk.

The day of reckoning arrived. I might have been weak but I was usually honest. At noon on Holy Saturday, Uncle Michael lit up, a beatific look on his face. He took inventory. I acknowledged my failure to abstain from sweets. Terry glowed with satisfaction. Uncle Michael delivered a searing lecture on discipline and self control, the trouble I would face if I didn't master these tasks.

In fulfillment of that prophecy, succeeding years saw me lay out grandiose agendas for Lent and promptly fall flat on my face.

Today, I try to focus more on doing rather than doing without. If I can do one act of kindness each day, spend a little time in prayer, read spiritual books instead of novels, then I will have observed Lent in a way that probably pleases God and just might be possible for me to carry out.

What do you think, Uncle Michael?

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