It is always amusing when people assume the editors of Gottesdienst agree on every single issue. We don’t. And thanks be to God! We learn from one another, we have fun, and we can handle discussion. I prefer to celebrate ad orientem, where as for Petersen, he’s a versus populum kind of guy (which sounds like a great title for a country song). Stuckwisch is our heroic defender of the three-year lectionary. Eckardt and I both have tabernacles, but we disagree on how to make use of them. The list goes on.

We all laugh at those silly questions on the PIF (or is it the SET?) where you rate your liturgical practice, and one of the options is “rigid.” Yeah, no bias in that question! But some people seem to think that we are collectively rigid in matters of liturgy. Well, we have a great deal of overlap, and we all agree to a man that the historic liturgy is not negotiable. And no matter what, liturgy should be conducted with reverence, whether in a cathedral or on the hood of a jeep in a combat zone. But that said, we do all understand that there is room for different levels of ceremony, as well as regional differences in custom.

A great example is Pre-Lent. Your Gottesdienst calendar says to use purple during these three weeks. Eckardt says to stop the Alleluias, and use Lent options for the propers. My response is to quote one of my old Jesuit teachers: “No way, baby!” Not here. That just doesn’t work in South Louisiana. We stick with green, the Alleluias remain, and we use Epiphany propers. Why? Because our season of Carnival begins on Epiphany Day and ends at midnight the day before Ash Wednesday. You might call it “Shrove Tuesday” and eat pancakes. We call it Mardi Gras, and the schools are all closed (for the whole week, in fact), we have parties and parades and feasting and celebrating (including Lutheran beverages) all day long. In fact, Mardi Gras is preceded by Lundi Gras, as well as a good solid two weeks of really ramping up the celebration. The whole family celebrates together. By Ash Wednesday, we’re all partied out. And that’s the idea.

There could not be a bigger contrast in how Pre-Lent is done between our parishes across the country. I am likely the outlier regarding Pre-Lent practice among the editors.

At midnight at the conclusion of Mardi Gras, as Ash Wednesday begins, the police clear the streets in the French Quarter of New Orleans, and the party officially ends (though in reality, the heathens just take it inside). We Christians understand Carnival as the feast preceding the fast. Carnival means “farewell to the flesh,” and it is traditionally time to use up the meat and butter from the larder and to enjoy sweets. King cakes are everywhere from January 6 to Mardi Gras Day. And on Ash Wednesday, we fast, we go to church, and we have ashes applied to our foreheads. That is when we begin our Lenten journey, and it is forty days (not counting Sundays, when, of course, breaking the fast and enjoying Lutheran Beverages are certainly in order).

So for us, Pre-Lent in not merely a Lent-extension. We figure 40 days is plenty. And we get our feasting in before the fast. And the fast comes suddenly, with no ramping down. It’s like hitting a brick wall at 90 mph. That’s just how we roll. That is how we make use of Pre-Lent in our regional piety. Pre-Lent is for partying.

So there is no lockstep uniformity - neither between our editors and contributors, nor liturgically in matters of the specifics of our parishes and our local culture. As we in the Louisiana Rite believe, teach, and confess during the period of Pre-Lent: “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”