the great leslie

It all started with Lenten Running. Truth be told, the true origin is more nebulous and further away, but I think Lenten Running is as good an origin as any.

This year my brother and I gave up "not running on Wednesdays" for Lent. Which is to say: we run on Wednesdays. Today, being the Wednesday before Easter, was our last day of Lenten Running. As usual, Drew rode his bike to my house, we ran to the reservoir, around it, and back. And then we had coffee and eggs at my apartment, listened to the Killers (even though they are ungrateful), and played with our gorillas (the gorillas dig the Killers). All in all, it's been a success.

Now, I've been known to sport it up from time to time, and it's not that odd for me to engage in a running program, especially if another, more motivated soul is involved. But, it's uncommon for me to do anything church-related. And the Lenten Running is somehow tied to my recent church-going.

This Sunday will be my fourth Sunday in a row sitting in a pew at a nearby Catholic Church. Not surprisingly, my brother, a seminary student, was key in getting me there. But I went last week without him, and I've even taken to reading the Bible verses used in the sermon when I return home. Also: I've been thinking about Jesus. And I like the idea of being reborn, metaphorically speaking. 

One of my friends who grew up Catholic says he doesn't like the hocus pocus of it all, but I say bring on the incense. I like the smoke lingering above the alter, evoking the Holy Spirit. And it smells good.

The Vatican and I are at odds on many issues, so I'm not joining the ranks. But I really like going to this church. And when the priests talk about our Lenten efforts, Drew and I give each other a high five.