In 1966 Pope Paul VI issued the apostolic constitution Pænitemini, which rather radically changed the rules on fasting and abstinence in the Western Church. The document was the main source, almost 30 years later, for the Code of Canon Law’s current discipline. Canon 1251 tells us that “Abstinence from eating meat or some other food according to the prescripts of the conference of bishops is to be observed on every Friday of the year unless a Friday occurs on a day listed as a solemnity. Abstinence and fasting, however, are to be observed on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.”
The Church’s tradition of abstinence reaches back much further than the 1960s, of course. A homily of Pope Gregory the Great is amongst the first sources for the current discipline. This in turn got bound into the earliest collections of the Church’s laws, ended up in the Corpus Iuris Canonici, and later found its way (by means of a reference, at least) into the 1917 and 1983 codes. But with the expansion of the Church’s mission field well beyond the familiar territories (and cuisines) of Europe, the definition of what is and what is not included in abstinence has shifted over time.
First of all, it’s important to say that abstinence in this setting usually means the avoidance of meat. Pænitemini makes an important distinction here: “The law of abstinence forbids the use of meat, but not of eggs, the products of milk or condiments made of animal fat.”
In some places, the Friday abstinence from meat led to a kind of de facto custom of fish on Fridays. In England it means a trip to the chippy. In America, at least in Lent, it means the ubiquitous parish Fish Fry. But, in fact, there’s no rule about eating fish on Fridays; just no meat.
The usual way canon law defines things like this is summed up in the phrase “the common estimation of men.” So it is that water in baptism is probably licit and valid if it is water in “the common estimation of men.” Beer isn’t (the Norwegians tried that one in 1241); nor is coffee. The same is somewhat true also of meat.
The problem – to the extent that it is one – arises from the fact that these laws are given for the universal Church, and so it’s inevitable that what is meat in “the common estimation of men” in one place, may not be in another. This has led to all sorts of interesting local provisions and definitions by local bishops of what and what is not considered flesh-meat, and so what is and what is not edible on days of abstinence. The US, being such a big country, has its fair share of examples, mouth-watering and otherwise.
For instance, in 2010, the Archbishop of New Orleans confirmed that alligator, a cold blooded reptile, is not considered flesh-meat and so is perfectly acceptable for Catholics to eat on days of abstinence. The good archbishop even wrote, “God has created a magnificent creature that is important to the state of Louisiana and it is considered seafood.”
Anyone who has been to the southern United States will know that alligator is readily available. It’s usually served up in small nuggets, breaded and fried, and it’s best (in my humble opinion) with a cajun dipping sauce and a side of fried green tomatoes. But it’s not always served that way; I understand that one parish in Virginia recently grilled a whole gator for Mardi Gras.
What is somewhat less appealing still, at least to my simple English tastes, is the northern equivalent. The otherwise upstanding people of Detroit, Michigan, prefer to supplement their Lenten penitence with the lowly muskrat. For readers unfamiliar with the muskrat (above), here goes. They can grow to about the length of a school regulation ruler, and they look to all intents and purposes like a rat. And the “musk”? The Encyclopedia Brittanica helps us here: they are so-named for the “odour of a yellowish substance produced by its perineal glands.” Appetizing, I’m sure.
According to a 2019 article in the Detroit Free Press, the Archdiocese of Detroit continues to permit and even to promote the practice of eating muskrat on Fridays in Lent. It transpires that this came from the days when Detroit was frontier country, and finding anything else of nourishment during wintry Lents was impossible. Historically accurate though this may be, even with frontier conditions having subsided the Detroit faithful have apparently not lost their taste for the beast. A recent post on the archdiocese’s own website details their hearty appreciation. Apparently muskrat is “similar to garlic roast beef.” And, of course, “it tastes like chicken.”
Up the road in Saint Louis, their own Lenten delicacy is beaver. Again, the internet does not fail to deliver ample information on this longstanding practice. Nobody seems to think beaver tastes like chicken, but we do learn that it is apparently best barbecued, which is nothing less than one might expect from St Louisans, who pride themselves for their equally distinctive smoking style.
There’s a serious point to all of this, I promise. The Church is often thought of as rather legalistic, but what these rather surprising diversions from the norm of law demonstrate is in fact the remarkable adaptability of ecclesiastical discipline. Pastors know their people; they know their habits and customs (even when they might make the rest of us retch), and they know when they’re being sincere and when they’re having them on. So, whilst strenuously avoiding muskrat, beaver, and gator myself this Lent, one can only be impressed by those who whose faith leads to them appreciate such culinary delights, and to enter into the spirit of this penitential season.
Apparently Cardinal Wiseman used to have a lobster on Good Friday. Perhaps that’s the way an Englishman should go.
The Revd Dr James Bradley is Assistant Professor of Canon Law at The Catholic University of America in Washington, DC, and a Priest of the Personal Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham. Photo: Getty Images.
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