There are excellent reasons to imbibe... and too many reasons why we should not. Fr. Denis Lemieux attempts a teachable moment on the drinking of adult beverages:
Of course, we have to say that GKC here is not addressing in the slightest the specific affliction of alcoholism, about which little was understood in his day (AA was ten years away from its founding when he wrote this). But while the Rubaiyat is pretty passé these days, the central mistake it makes, which he is deploring here, is still rampant. Namely, that we should celebrate and have a good time because, essentially, the world is a dark and grim place. We should crank up the tunes and let the booze flow freely (and other substances of mind altering natures) as a refuge from a cold, pitiless world. We should plunge into bacchanalian blowoutsas a sort of secular exorcism, as a casting out of the spirit of darkness and sadness, as a flight out of reality into spurious and short-lived joy. I think this is still a widespread, if only partially conscious, attitude. I have certainly seen it in many, many people. And it is ugly, ultimately utterly joyless, with an underlying anger and bitterness of spirit to it, just below the surface. This is why so many parties—we all know it well—end with fights breaking out – this would not happen if the drinking and carousing were occurring in a true spirit of joy and delight. Too many people today, and young people in particular, drink and drug and party the night away because they are deeply unhappy about life. True celebration, not only Christian but deeply human, is on the other hand this wonderful entry into fellowship and song and flowing zider. And there is a sacramental quality to that, even before Jesus Christ touches and utterly transforms it. It is a visible sign of an invisible reality—the joy of the party, the festive flow of zider and zong. And the invisible reality is this, simply: And God looked upon all that he had made, and lo, it was very good. And because it is all, ultimately and deeply in its divine origin and end, very good, let us raise a glass to it, L’chayim - to life, to the world, to humanity, to every good thing, which is in the end everything. We don’t need to do it, and that is why we should.
as a sort of secular exorcism, as a casting out of the spirit of darkness and sadness, as a flight out of reality into spurious and short-lived joy.
I think this is still a widespread, if only partially conscious, attitude. I have certainly seen it in many, many people. And it is ugly, ultimately utterly joyless, with an underlying anger and bitterness of spirit to it, just below the surface. This is why so many parties—we all know it well—end with fights breaking out – this would not happen if the drinking and carousing were occurring in a true spirit of joy and delight. Too many people today, and young people in particular, drink and drug and party the night away because they are deeply unhappy about life.
True celebration, not only Christian but deeply human, is on the other hand this wonderful entry into fellowship and song and flowing zider. And there is a sacramental quality to that, even before Jesus Christ touches and utterly transforms it. It is a visible sign of an invisible reality—the joy of the party, the festive flow of zider and zong. And the invisible reality is this, simply: And God looked upon all that he had made, and lo, it was very good. And because it is all, ultimately and deeply in its divine origin and end, very good, let us raise a glass to it, L’chayim - to life, to the world, to humanity, to every good thing, which is in the end everything. We don’t need to do it, and that is why we should.
That, my friends, is beautiful.
Carry on.
