Evidently, Catholic potholes encourage us to give up for Lent.
Were you there when they crucified my tires? Such a lament is common with those using the streets surrounding the University of Tulsa, usually with no small amount of wrath. However, few are aware of the spiritual benefits one can glean from having a bike seat rocketed into their taint at 25 miles an hour from the potholes on 15th street.
It is no secret that the motorways of our neighborhood provide great tribulation. Many express frustration with roadways that manage to degrade over time while also being under constant construction. To increase the pangs of passion, road construction around the school has exploded in scale, adding disjointed layers of asphalt to the road and massively complicating traffic. Some would argue that, if such a disruption must occur, then the construction should at least be performed in one of the many locations that actually contain potholes. This is shortsighted. The City of Tulsa works in mysterious ways, and to complain is to fail to see their true intention in giving me nine pinch flats in one month: to honor the celebration of our Lord’s death and resurrection this Holy Week.
During Lent, the 40 days before Easter, Christians are encouraged to forgo earthly indulgence and, through temporary deprivation, strengthen their relationships with God. In their wisdom, the City has given its citizens the opportunity to experience purifying hardship in its many jarring roadways. Motorists are forced to develop virtues like patience by taking the myriad detours or slowing to avoid snapping an axle on the three-inch pitch changes on Peoria. Cyclists are reminded of the foolishness of taking comfort in earthly securities when the protected bike lane is closed for half a mile on 11th street — this must be by design, as there appears to be literally no other purpose for blocking off the spot.
Why is this lane closed? To test our faith. Probably. Photo by Aiden Hoogstra
This Palm Sunday, the roads of Tulsa will be strewn with broken glass, certainly to remind us of Christ’s riding into Jerusalem on the back of a colt. After all, what reason could a devout Christian like Governor Kevin Stitt have for kicking the homeless out of their encampments other than to achieve a greater end (i.e. filling the streets with their broken bottles and syringes)? Citizens are given a chance to love one another by throwing their own garments upon the street for the passage of their fellow man. On Holy Monday and Tuesday and Spy Wednesday, the roads will continue to have these adornments since no one ever cleans them up.
A Philistine rides in the forbidden lane, simply because there is no reason not to. Photo by Aiden Hoogstra
On Maundy Thursday, the Church Militant is offered an opportunity to celebrate the passover meal of the Last Supper by breaking their own body and blood riding a bike down 15th Street under the bridge for Route 64. Riding downhill, as if on the side of Calgary itself, an avid cyclist can reach 30 mph before the impassable wall of potholes at the bottom is even visible, stopping even the most sinful application of the brakes from preventing the ritual of slamming into a 6-inch pothole hard enough to throw you into oncoming traffic and pop all of your tires. Those fortunate enough may even experience a powerful parallel to the incarnation: for just as Christ took manhood on for our sake, one may have his manhood taken clean off by the crossbar of a bicycle launching straight upwards at mach 2.5.
On Good Friday and Holy Saturday, the City will remind its citizens of the crucifixion. On this somber pair of days, it is asked that motorists refrain from screaming expletives and honking at me for using the clearly marked bike lane in order to facilitate a time of silent reflection and mourning, deepening our longing for the second coming.
If anyone believes that the government can err in matters of infrastructure, let them be anathema. While these challenges may initially cause frustration, all one can do is remember that Governor Stitt’s ways are not our ways. Surely this is some kind of test — there is no other excuse for this much useless construction. Yea, “circumcise your hearts” and use these trials to deepen the yearning for the celebration of Easter when they will put a fitting end to what has no doubt very helpful service of tribulation. Probably.
