LENT: A SEASON OF LOVE 
by Fr. John M. Felice, O.F.M.

 Note: This reflection was originally given as a talk to the volunteers and liturgical ministers at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi on February 23, 2009.

  The season of Lent can be traced back to the practices of the early Church. It was considered a time of preparation – a time of repentance and renewal as Christians prepared for the celebration of God’s great saving act of redemption in the passion, death and resurrection of His Son. The forty days were chosen after the example of Jesus who spent forty days in the desert in a time of prayer and fasting. Eventually, Lent became a time of preparation for the catechumens who were preparing to join the Christian community in the sacrament of baptism at the Easter Vigil.

Centuries have refined the season of Lent and the practices we are familiar with today. But time can also wear away the sharper edges and the deeper meaning of the season, leaving us with little more than fish on Fridays and some kind of self-denial as our personal sacrifice for the season. But Lent calls for something more – a sincere repentance that leads to the renewal of the heart.

 The gospel reading for Ash Wednesday (Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18) is taken from the Sermon on the Mount. The Sermon begins with the Beatitudes – the fundamental moral stance of a disciple of Jesus. How blessed, how fortunate are the poor in spirit; those who mourn for this world; the meek; the merciful; those who hunger for justice; the peace makers. The Sermon will go on: You – anyone who follows this way – you are the salt of the earth, the very ground, the very vision that gives real meaning to life. You are the light of the world – the one clear guide, the one real witness to the truth of the good news.

The Sermon continues with the Jewish practices of piety. At the time of Jesus, holiness or piety was witnessed by three things: almsgiving, prayer and fasting. These are the three things Jesus speaks of in the Sermon on the Mount because they were the common practices of the day. For Jesus, they were often the problem of the day. He warns us right at the beginning – do not be like the hypocrites! The Hebrew word for hypocrite meant ‘actor,’ like the one on the stage of a theater – all show, a performance for others. But for Jesus, for these practices to have any value, they must be a matter of the heart, a witness to one’s faith in a living God – someone with whom you must have a genuine relationship.

And so, almsgiving. Each person was expected to give according to one’s means. Remember the story of the poor widow and her two copper coins? She was important to Jesus not simply because she gave all she had, but because it was a witness to her total trust in God. The rich made a great show of their generosity, as if all their wealth was theirs to give, and not a loan from a loving Father from whom all good things come. “And he who sees in secret will repay in secret.”

And on prayer. Prayers were expected to be offered at very specific times during the day, and a pius Jew would stop wherever he was to say his prayers. A lot of symbols and rituals surrounded these prayers, so there was an easy temptation to make a great show of it all. In Jesus’ mind, however, the disciple should go quietly to a place where one can speak from the heart to God “who sees what no man can see.”

Finally, on fasting. Fasting was always a sign of mourning and repentance. Sometimes it called for sack cloth and ashes; sometimes your hair was a mess and your face covered with dirt. Everybody know what you were up to. But for the disciple, when you fast – when you sacrifice something to know God better in your life – look your best, no long faces, because “the one who sees what is hidden will repay you.”

In all these examples Jesus ends the same way – remember whom you are doing this for, remember with whom you are sharing your life – the one who sees the heart, who alone can heal the heart.

 Lent is always described as a time of repentance and renewal. These are well-worn words easily said, and just as easily missed because they touch on the heart of the season and, more importantly, the heart of our relationship with God. Unless I know my individual need for a loving Savior in my life now – because of who I am; because what I have done or failed to do; because of what I must get up and struggle with every day of my life; and unless I know who I really am before God, nothing more, nothing less – I will never really understand the need for the passion, death and resurrection of Christ. Jesus warns us again and again: I have not come, I cannot come for the self-righteous – those who think they can save themselves – I cannot come into your life because you really don’t think you need me.

The world never gets this point, and the world cannot understand the need for a Savior. The sins of the world are these: I am too poor, money will fix that; I am too fat, I need a diet; I need someone in my life who will make my happy; I need more things, more possessions, more fun. It’s all about me. It’s always about me.

But for the disciples, in the end, it is never about me. It is about my life shared with a living God, a loving and personal Savior. During the season of Lent that which needs renewal is whatever pulls me away from this relationship with God, whatever blinds me to my need for him in my life right now. That is what I am sorry for; that is what I regret; that is what I seek to renew in my preparation for the passion, death and resurrection of Christ.

It is the open arms of Christ on the cross – the unconditional sign of his love for us – that matters most. It is there where my human weakness and frailty, my blindness and indifference, my selfishness are washed away, embraced, and forgiven. If I do nothing more during Lent than take a fresh look at Christ on the cross as my loving Savior, then my forty days will have been a success.

St. Francis of Assisi understood all of this instinctively. The single greatest point in his life was his discovery of just how much God loved him, just as he was. Francis was overwhelmed by this reality. No one thought less of himself that Francis did, but because of this, no one thought more of us than Francis, who looked at others through God’s eyes.

As St. Francis put it in his beautiful prayer before the crucifix: “That I may die for the love of your love, (I am so grateful for your love for me) you, who so deigned to die for the love of my love” (you who so hunger for my love for you).

That might be a lofty statement to our call for a genuine relationship with a loving and personal Savior. But Lent calls for nothing less, and the living God seeks nothing more.