So Hugh is now in boarding school. Catholic boys' boarding school. The Brothers of the Sacred Heart, to be precise. Hugh's "prefect" is one such Brother. In his first year at the school, Brother T is a 60-ish, homely, gentle, other-worldly kind of guy who fatally admitted to Hugh during check-in at the residence hall that he had purchased his very first cell phone just a few days earlier. Oh dear. Do Catholics still believe in Purgatory? If so, then I imagine Brother T will have shaved a considerable amount off his purgatorial allotment by living in close quarters with a group of 16-year-olds for a year.
Hugh reported the following rather bizarre cross-cultural/generational encounter: In the middle of one of the introductory hall meetings with Brother T, one of the boys farted very loudly and of course all the other boys began to snicker and moan and generally descend to being, well, boys. Brother T responded with indignation. Such a public display of a private need was, he informed his little flock, the sign of gross ignorance. A boy who farted out loud would end up "flipping burgers" for a living, the brother warned, if he didn't shape up and rein himself in. Brother T then shifted into confessional mode: "Take me. I haven't farted out loud since 1972. Now I admit, it probably has caused me some trouble with my digestive tract, but it's been worth it."
Oh. Wow. Suddenly I realize how totally not a Catholic I am. Since Hugh told me this story, I've been farting loudly and with great gusto. Never before have I linked passing gas to Protestant principle, but now with every public butt burp, I feel I'm striking a blow against asceticism and the damage it has done to Christians for centuries.
Here I fart; I cannot do otherwise.
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