Why I'm giving up coffee for Lent

I left the love of my life today. The love affair is over and this is the saddest I’ve ever been. My husband rolls his eyes at my dramatics and raises his coffee cup in the most sardonic salute ever: I’m giving up coffee for Lent.

Yep, me—Starbucks’ most loyal supporter, the Hot Doubleshot’s most enthusiastic advocate, at-least-three-cups-a-day liquid black gold devotee—and yet not religious in the slightest. Oh sure, I’m Catholic but I’m not exactly a good one. I’ve been #blessed by the Pope but I only went to the Vatican to cross a micronation off my travel list. I celebrate Christmas, but who doesn’t? The conundrum is real: the caffeine-addicted non-believer observes the liturgical season of Lent.

Ain’t no coffee big enough

Traditionally, Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, the day after Shrove Tuesday—or pancake day. In days gone by, when I’d give up chocolate for Lent (oh yeah, this isn’t my first Lent rodeo), this was an excuse to cram my face with Nutella pancakes before giving it up as my ‘fast’. Back in the old days, observers would give up animal products, which is why we have pancake day to use up all the eggs and milk.

Lent lasts forty days in commemoration of the 40 days Jesus spent wandering the desert, fasting and avoiding temptation. Jesus was tempted by the devil to deviate from God’s plan—my avoiding chocolate pales in comparison although I will actually be in the desert this year…

Anyway, Lent ends at sundown on Holy Thursday, the day before Good Friday, when Jesus died on the cross, but I’ve never broken my fast until Easter Sunday—or more accurately, the second after the clock struck midnight after salivating over the bar I’d carefully selected to be my first piece of chocolate-y goodness forty days after my pancake-fest.

Why hello there, you beautiful thing

Except, it’s not forty days—oh no. It’s much longer. Between Shrove Tuesday and Easter Sunday, there are 46 endless days during which I must battle through the headaches, eye twitches and irritability that will surely accompany my caffeine abstinence. Even this stems from my being a bad Catholic: Sundays in Lent are not considered part of the forty days of the Lenten season so one is not required to uphold one’s Lenten penitence because even during Lent, Sundays are a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The Catholic Church does not require you to stare longingly at that piece of cake, cup of coffee, slab of steak on Sundays—but come on. Anyone can give something up for six days at a time—where’s the masochism in that?

One of my first Lents, I gave up sweets—if it was sugary, it was off limits and this included chocolate. I thought I was so hardcore, particularly as my family owned an old-fashioned sweetshop at the time! I’d be behind the counter, portioning out bags of totally off-limit sugary delights to happy customers, green with envy, every Saturday for the whole Lent period. Then, one day, a woman came bouncing in and declared she was picking up a bag of toffee bonbons for her Sunday ‘treat’ because ‘Sundays don’t count.’ I handed her the bag, smiled sweetly, and said nothing. After all, Matthew 6:16 says: ‘when you fast, do not look gloomy.’ She was weak. I was the true martyr.

Sugary-goodness

How stupid was that—I’m not even religious! Why should I care whether I manage to observe a holy period of abstinence, penitence, spirituality and connection to God?

Because it’s not God I’m trying to reach.

My mum’s mum was a good Catholic. Maureen Mitchell was devout her entire life—I’m Catholic for her—and observed Lent every year. Every single year, my chocolate-addicted grandma would give up her favourite thing for Lent, and (almost) every single year she succeeded. My mum tells the story of taking my grandma to a coffeeshop a few days before Easter—mum exclusively drinks tea, but grandma ordered a cappuccino. She brought the cup to her lips, took a long sip, and exclaimed that was the best coffee she’d ever had—before noticing the chocolate sprinkled on top. The memory of that resounding ‘noooooooo!’ makes my mum crack up to this day.

I didn’t get much time with my grandma—Non-Hodgkin lymphoma saw to that in 2003—and I never got the opportunity to have a proper grown-up relationship with her. I remember her as the warmest and liveliest person and I miss her terribly—continuing her Lenten tradition is my way of honouring her memory.

For the past decade, I have spent 46 days a year resisting the call of the chocolate-y devil—one year I gave up fizzy drinks (easy), one year I dropped sugar all together (awful, I had a mango for my birthday cake), and two years ago, I quit smoking (the worst). For the most part though, I stepped away from the chocolate and spent Lent ‘doing this’ for my grandma.

Never have I ever loved anything as much as coffee

But abstaining from chocolate became too easy and I realised that while that was my grandma’s greatest vice, it’s not my Kryptonite. The great love of my life is coffee and as I sit here shaking my fist at the heavens, I know she’ll be snickering at me.

I am not religious. I’m not even sure there is a God—but there is Maureen Mitchell. So here goes, grandma. Forty-six days to go.

‘Remember that you are caffeine, and to caffeine you shall return.’