Now John’s disciples and the Pharisees were fasting; and people came and said to him, “Why do John’s disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” And Jesus said to them, “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast. The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in those days.” (Mark 2:18-22; Matt. 9:14-17; Luke 5:33-39)
The Season of Epiphany in the Church year is the time for Carnival in Christian societies all over the world. In the United States, that is especially true in New Orleans. The season culminates in Mardi Gras, French for “Fat Tuesday,” the day before Ash Wednesday, which begins the season of Lent, the preparation for Easter.
At the time of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, when France sold the region to the United States thanks to President Thomas Jefferson, the only legal religion in the land was the Roman Catholicism. Other faiths or Christian churches were forbidden. The whole culture was French and Catholic, whether one was white, Indian, Black, slave, or free. And there were many free people of color, largely from Haiti after its revolution, new immigrants, or descendants of Bienville and Iberville, the French colonial founders and early governors whose names are still heard in Louisiana.
The Ursuline Convent and Academy Museum in New Orleans displays a letter from Jefferson replying to the convent’s Mother Superior, assuring her that the sisters’ religion, like all others, is allowed in the United States. That was a historic departure from the policies of the European nations that colonized the Americas, so she had good reason to write and ask what their status would be. It may seem strange to mention this situation more than two centuries later, but French and Catholic culture is still predominant in New Orleans, and Carnival, both a secular and a Christian celebration at once, is a prime example of America’s religious freedom.
The commonly given reason for the celebration of feasting, revelry, parades, and all sorts of parties — from formal balls to family gatherings from afar and neighborhood block events with barbecues, kegs, and ever-present live music that anyone can enjoy — is that soon everyone will have to fast and “give up” all the fun. The idea is to enjoy it now and use it up while you can.
The word Carnival means farewell (Latin: vale) to meat (Latin: carne). At midnight on Tuesday the police really do clear the streets of the French Quarter. The message is, “It’s Lent now. Get some sleep so you can go get your ashes first thing tomorrow, and remember you are dust and to dust you will return.” Giving up some food or drink or pleasure is part of Lenten custom for many people, Catholic or not, especially on Fridays.
Several years ago, when St. Patrick’s Day (March 17) fell on a Friday, members of an Irish society asked the Roman Catholic Archbishop for permission to serve corned beef at their banquet. He denied their request, pointing out that New Orleans’ delicious seafood would be enough to make their banquet quite festive while they kept their Lenten Friday fast.
Carnival is not just a party to prepare for Lenten discipline, but is also the culmination of the 12 days of Christmas. Beginning January 6, the Feast of the three wise men, Christians celebrate Emmanuel, “God with us,” as revealed to the Gentiles, and then to the whole world. We remember our Lord told his first disciples that there is a season for feasting and a season for fasting. Like them, therefore, we continue the Christmas feast for this new season while the bridegroom is with us, knowing that the day will came when he is taken from us. Then we should fast.
So, on January 6, and not a day before, king cakes appear in every bakery and grocery store. Each cake hides a tiny plastic baby. We cut the cake and, like the wise men, look for the baby Jesus. Whoever finds the baby receives a crown to wear and has to bring the next king cake for the next party, which normally occurs every week at work or school or neighborhood until Ash Wednesday. Tourists often want to have king cake during Lent, and they can get it, but no locals would do this.
The gifts of the Magi are strange, prophetic, symbolic, and not very practical, except for the gold. The members of parading “Krewes” spend thousands of their funds on beads, toys, and other “throws,” which they toss willy-nilly to complete strangers along the parade routes, most of which pass through neighborhoods. And almost any group of people can form a parading organization; some have themes, some don’t; some are expensive and lavish, some more simple, with repurposed floats from previous years.
All have marching bands from local and visiting schools and other groups, and the riders wear masks or makeup to remain anonymous. Each Krewe normally has a king or queen, chosen from their ranks. The parades start January 6 and occur almost every day for three weeks before Mardi Gras; the closer to the big day, the more parades each night. The media usually focus on the raucous and bawdy behavior of tourists in the French Quarter, instead of the families out on parade routes close to their homes. The traditional, generous, and friendly aspect of the parade draws little publicity.
The first miracle of Jesus, turning the water into too much good wine at the wedding of Cana of Galilee, is an Epiphany story reflected in the lavish way too much good food and drink is prepared and offered to family, friends (come by my house — we’re having a parade party), neighbors, and often complete strangers who end up standing on the parade route. Likewise, a teaching of Jesus that figures into Carnival each year is the parable of the Prodigal Son. The father is so elated when his errant son returns to him that he calls for jewels and robes for him instead of his rags, and orders the fatted calf to be killed for a feast in his honor, complete with musicians and wine. Every year, the first float in the Rex parade, the signature parade of Mardi Gras, is the Boeuf Gras — or fatted calf — in effigy, surrounded by maskers in chefs’ costumes. The repentance and return of that younger son foreshadow the self-examination and penance called for in Lent. But this day everyone joins in the celebration, including, we devoutly hope, the righteous older brother who complains about such a feast in honor of his spendthrift sibling, but is urged by the father who loves them both to join the party anyway.
And then there are the colors — green, purple, and gold. “We have purple for the virtue of justice, green representing the virtue of faith, and gold to illustrate the power of God,” one Mardi Gras historian writes. “These colors have also been used to represent the gifts the Magi brought to the baby Jesus, with purple representing myrrh, green for frankincense, and gold for the gold.” At the Diocese of Louisiana’s Christ Church Cathedral, clergy use a bejeweled green and purple cope for the last few Sundays before Ash Wednesday, those waning weeks of Epiphany and carnival. The liturgical color for Epiphany is green and the color for Lent is purple. These are the colors of the Carnival parades which pass right outside the Cathedral doors on St. Charles Avenue.
Finally, Carnival is a time for making fun of and having fun with ourselves and those temporarily “in power” over us. The mock kings and queens of Mardi Gras celebrations are an honor, to be sure, but are also a spoof on all our political and social “royalties,” and should put us in mind of the eternal royalty of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ – King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.
The Rev. Dr. Jean McCurdy Meade is a retired priest of the Diocese of Louisiana and formerly the rector of Mount Olivet Church in New Orleans. She lives now in her hometown of San Antonio, Texas, as well as Santa Fe, New Mexico, and New Orleans.