Despite my ever-increasing propensity for sexual impurity, there was a time when I tried to recommit myself to purity during Lent. When I began my service in ministry, my little community listed what each of us were going to “give up” for Lent. Needless to say, I refrained from making public my promise to give up “sex.”
There is historical precedent for sexual abstinence during Lent. In Medieval Europe, the Catholic Church required married couples to abstain from carnal relations during Lent — 62 days from Septuagesima to Easter. “Fasting” from sex still marks the Orthodox tradition.
But my resolve began to wilt in the desert of sexual temptation. The tall blonde sauntering down Lexington Avenue in a miniskirt and black stockings ignited my lust. I committed adultery in my heart with “Tabetha,” my colleague in ministry — her curvy butt and full, round breasts fueled graphic fantasies. Nor could I resist purchasing a copy of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue and jerking off to Kate Upton. Then, unable to resist any longer, my Lenten journey took a detour to Emma’s apartment. After placing an envelope with several crisp $100 bills on her nightstand, she peeled off her lavender lingerie, reached for a bottle of Astroglide, and spread her legs. I groaned as I penetrated her.
Je sais que c'est interdit
Mea culpa
I didn’t even make it past the Tuesday after Ash Wednesday.
Lutheran Guilt 