KAY MURDY

Lent is an occasion to change our behavior, an opportunity to forgive and be forgiven, to be reconciled to God and to one another. With the elect who are preparing to celebrate the sacraments of initiation, we must scrutinize our lives — that is, examine ourselves closely. Have we consciously or unconsciously taken on the attitudes of the world? Or are we attempting to conform our lives to the pattern of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection? Do we have faith in God’s ability to transform us? Can we make a new beginning on our journey through these 40 days?

Ash Wednesday, February 25

Jl 2:12–18; Ps 51:3–4,5–6,12–13,14,17; 2 Cor 5:20—6:2; Mt 6:1–6,16–18

The Greek word for “cleanse” (catharsis) implies a cleaning out of the inside. Lent is an opportunity to make a clean start, to get rid of many things we don’t need, such as anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, and greed. Prayer is a good way to begin: “Create a clean heart for me. Wash me; cleanse me of my sin.” Fasting is another way to cleanse — not as an excuse to get rid of the extra fat we have stored but as a means to express sorrow for all the rubbish we have collected in our lives. A third way is giving alms, sharing our abundance with others. None of these will have any effect if we only do it to show how virtuous we are. God knows the true intentions of our hearts and will reward us accordingly.

God doesn’t want to reduce us to ashes this Lent; God wants others to see the good news at work in us. For Jesus, repentance is returning home to God, who is merciful and rich in kindness. When we are reconciled to God and one another, it will be so evident that we will truly become “ambassadors for Christ.”

For Reflection: In what ways will I apply the penitential disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving during Lent?

1st Sunday of Lent, March 1

Gn 9:8–15; Ps 25:4–5,6–7,8–9; 1 Pt 3:18–22; Mk 1:12–15

When rain is falling and the sun is shining at the same time, we may see a rainbow in the sky. When seen with the eyes of faith, the rainbow is a sign of God’s presence in the storms of life. No matter how dark it may become, we know that God is faithful and will illuminate our way, guiding us when we are in danger of going astray from our baptismal promises.

Peter saw the flood as a metaphor for baptism. When we go our own way and refuse to walk the path God shows us, we find ourselves submerged in sin. Yet God is merciful and provides a way out. Ironically, though we drown in the waters of baptism, we rise to new life.

Jesus doesn’t just stand by as we are submerged in the cleansing water. He joins us in the murky flood of our sinful state. Victorious over the powers of evil, he emerges to announce the good news of God’s reign: “This is the time of fulfillment! Reform your lives!” If we look up, we will see the light of Christ shining amidst the storm.

For Reflection: When have the storms of life put me to the test? Where have I seen rainbows in my life?

2nd Sunday of Lent, March 8

Gn 22:1–2,9,10–13,15–18; Ps 116:10,15,16–17,18–19; Rom 8:31–34; Mk 9:2–10

“Ready!” we say when we are willing to take the plunge into God’s saving power. Before we do, we better know what sort of commitment we are making. Can we be like Abraham, who did not withhold anything from God? Abraham bound his son and laid him on the altar, but he also bound his heart and will to God. Because Abraham was faithful to God, God was faithful to Abraham and all generations are blessed in him.

Jesus invites us to go up the mountain with him to show us how bright things can be in the midst of darkness. Though a cloud overshadows the light, we hear God’s voice, “This is my Son, this is my daughter, my beloved. Listen to him.” As we come down the mountain, we wonder what it means to die. What does it mean to rise from the dead?

God the Father did not withhold Jesus the Son from suffering and death but offered him for the sake of us all. If we walk in the presence of the Lord, then God will release us from our bondage to sin, and we, who appeared to be dead, will walk in the land of the living. Since God is ready to do that for us, we can say with Paul, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

For Reflection: What have I offered to God? How has God rewarded my obedience?  
  
3rd Sunday of Lent, March 15

Ex 20:1–17; Ps 19:8,9,10,11; 1 Cor 1:22–25; Jn 2:13–25

God spells out the conditions of our relationship; we are named as God’s chosen ones, God’s very own. Because God is faithful and delivered us from the slavery of our sins, we owe obedience to God. We must not worship the idols made by our hands or paid for by our money. We must honor the name of God, the one who saves us. We must keep holy the Sabbath day and all the days that God sanctifies. Honoring our parents brings a reward more precious than gold. Killing, infidelity, stealing, lying, and cheating bring their own penalties.

In the dense cloud of our human perception, we still look for “signs” and miss the wisdom of God that Jesus shows us. Jesus knows our obstinate human nature and our hardened human hearts, so he turns over our preconceived notions of God and upsets our values. The temples we have erected to our pride, arrogance, greed, and selfishness need to be torn down. In their place, God will rebuild the true temple we have neglected: hearts where God longs to dwell.

For Reflection: What am I doing to cleanse my inner temple? Have I shown this by the way I live?

4th Sunday of Lent, March 22

2 Chr 36:14–17,19–23; Ps 137:1–2,3,4–5,6; Eph 2:4–10; Jn 3:14–21

We are a displaced people, alienated from God by sin. The songs of joy we once sang are silent; our music is still. Searching our memories, we recall God’s fidelity, sending messengers over and over to warn us of our sin. When there was no remedy to heal our wounds, God delivered us up to our own depravity. Yet God is rich in mercy. Because of God’s great love for us, we are brought to life when we were dead in sin. With Christ we are raised up to heavenly places.

Jesus reminds us that it is due to God’s love that the world was saved. Moses gave us a glimpse of what this means. In their desert wanderings, the people were bitten by venomous snakes, and they cried out to be saved. God told Moses to mount a bronze replica of the serpent on a staff and hold it up for all to see. All who looked at the instrument of affliction were healed. When we can look at Jesus on the cross, we know that we are saved through his suffering and death. We have a choice. We can turn toward the darkness of sin or turn toward the light of Christ’s love. There is healing in that wonderful light.

For Reflection: Am I an instrument of God’s love? What healing do I need so that I can bring healing to others?

5th Sunday of Lent, March 29

Jer 31:31–34; Ps 51:3–4,12–13,14–15; Heb 5:7–9; Jn 12:20–33

A caterpillar in a cocoon seems to die, yet a butterfly comes forth, bearing little resemblance to its old form. Something even more incredible happens when hearts of stone become hearts of flesh. In this new relationship, we know and understand our sacred partnership with God in a way that cannot be taught. “Against you alone have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight,” we pray. “Wash me from my guilt; of my sin cleanse me.”

Jesus knows how fickle-hearted we are; he shares our flesh, our prayers and tears. This is his “hour” when he will be lifted up, not in glorification but on an inglorious cross. He does not plead to be saved from this hour; it is for this very purpose that he came. Jesus knows that holding on to life serves no one, and he willingly offers his life on our behalf. Because he learned obedience from what he suffered, he became the source of new life for all. For the Christian, death is a metamorphosis, a dying and rising, not just to a better life but to eternal life. The new life that emerges from the tomb is even more beautiful than the butterfly.

For Reflection: Where do I see signs of transformation in my life? What do I still need to let go of in order to attain new life?

Passion (Palm) Sunday, April 5

Is 50:4–7; Ps 22:8–9,17–18,19–20,23–24; Phil 2:6–11; Mk 14:1—15:47

True prophets do not rebel against their call. Though others decline to speak on behalf of God, they let nothing deter them from their mission, even when it seems as though God has abandoned them. Although ears are closed to their message, the prophets steadfastly proclaim God’s tidings to the assembly. This is the attitude of Jesus. He did not regard power and authority as something to be held with a tight fist. Rather, he opened his hand and emptied himself, pouring out his humanity to become a servant to his brothers and sisters.

Unlike Jesus, we are not always submissive. At the table we betray him, despising the body with whom we have gathered. We say “Amen” to the cup with little understanding that we are saying “Yes” to dying to self like Jesus. Obedient in all things, he bound his will to God and did not turn away from death, even the disgraceful death on a cross. Willingly, he drank the dregs of the chalice of suffering and poured out his blood on our behalf.

Because Jesus was faithful, God exalted him, raising him above heaven and earth, giving him the name above all names. Our hearts and knees bow at his name. Our tongues proclaim to the glory of God: “Jesus Christ is Lord!”

For Reflection: Do I proclaim the Lord’s death when I eat the bread and drink the cup? How can I offer hope to a hopeless world?

Ritually Speaking

MATT REICHERT

When I tell my students that Lent is one of my favorite times of the year, they usually look at me as if I had three eyes. Who could love Lent? Or, more importantly, why would anyone love Lent? It’s a time for giving up everything we really enjoy. It’s a time for honing our jurisprudence, finding all sorts of loopholes and exceptions to the fasts we are forced to observe. What’s to love about such slippery, spiritual acrobatics as this?

Lent is so much more than 40 days of inconvenience and wallowing. Historically, this holy season began as the period of preparation for catechumens before their acceptance and entrance into the full communion of the church at Easter. Gradually, over the centuries, the entire church began to observe Lent as a period of continued formation and spiritual development. Even if a community had no one preparing for a sacrament of initiation, the faithful still participated fully in the observances of the Lenten season.

If we stop for a minute and allow this image of Lent to permeate us — a time of individual and community formation, a time of silence, of listening and growing together — our understanding of the Lenten rituals broadens and mushrooms from gloomy and inconvenient to deep and rich. Ash Wednesday’s ritual calls us to examine our current way of life, to see what is false, and to reorient ourselves to what is lasting. The silence and simple musical arrangements assist us in listening for the voice of God, speaking to us in a myriad of ways. The stark environment forces us to see the face of God in those around us.

So we have a very difficult task. We’re up against a cultural conception of Lent that is overwhelmingly negative. How are we to create a season focused on renewal as a community of believers while many moan and groan instead of getting the big picture? Here are a few thoughts.

Six weeks is a long time in this fast-paced culture. We need to create liturgical experiences that are gentle, constant reminders calling us back to our season of growth. This can be accomplished by using the same gathering and penitential rites, the same psalm setting, the same dismissal, even the same communion rite every week. Our use of silence — an often overlooked but crucial component — could remain the same. Each week, this repetition will help us to reenter familiar territory, to escape our anxieties and stress. In contrast, the Scriptures and reflections will change, peeling away more layers, inviting our deeper and deeper experience.

If your parish already uses a seasonal approach to Lenten liturgies, I encourage you to strive to push farther. Try to tie the powerful symbols and images of Ash Wednesday into the following Sundays — use the same musical refrain, reuse visual symbols, reuse the powerful image of ashes. There is great room for creativity, for pulling out that which can reach all of our community.

Lent calls us beyond our liturgical experience. Gabe Huck reminds us that “Lent does not stay at the altar: It fills the parish. It is in our homes and our own personal ways of thinking and doing things” (Liturgy with Style and Grace [LTP 1998]). In other words, Lent doesn’t stop at the church door. Lent pushes us out of the church door and into the world around us. Many parishes use this season as a time to develop opportunities for service — soup kitchens, Habitat for Humanity projects, Dorothy Day House visits, nursing home visits. Others use the season as a way to provide more thorough educational or spiritual programming outside of Sunday worship. Friday “fish fries” followed by prayer or a presentation or a class provide more practical, organized formation. If there ever was a time for your parish to dig in and do the sorts of programming you have always dreamed of, this is it.

Our weekly worship together can become more formative. We step out of time, pausing within our weekly bustle, to reconnect and renew our spiritual and communal selves. Each Sunday becomes a spiritual oasis. After 40 days and 40 nights, we can emerge as communities renewed and redirected toward our baptismal call, rejoicing in the good news of the resurrection and animated by the fire of the Holy Spirit. Then, if we have truly been formed, Easter won’t stay at the altar either. ML