 As I was reflecting on the importance of the Lenten journey, it occurred to me that the forty days Jesus spent in the desert were Christ’s training and preparatory period for His life of ministry. By entering into the desert to pray and fast, our Savior was preparing Himself in body and soul to enter into His public mission. We too are called into a time of spiritual preparation to grow in holiness and become followers of Christ sent on mission. Lent helps us to do this by inviting us to focus on prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Because we are personally called to be stewards of Christ’s work on earth, we each have a special vocation that plays an important role in salvation history. Our Lord, in His humanity, demonstrated for us the importance of preparing for our calling. Let’s take a moment to look at the temptations presented to Jesus in the desert and to reflect on how they may relate to our present life and Lenten journey. The First Temptation: Hunger “The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’” (Luke 4:3) Let’s look at hunger from both a physical and spiritual dimension. Are we respecting our physical hunger by providing our body with appropriate nourishment through a well-balanced diet? Our bodies have been fashioned by our Divine Creator. Are we respecting that gift? Learning to discern the various signs that our body sends us is an important step in growing in discipline. We can strengthen, energize, and nourish our physical selves in a way that will enable us to carry out our calling. When we ignore this area of challenge and growth, we fail to establish a sense of physical discernment and our fallen desires become the master of our selves. Throughout Lent, we are invited to abstain from certain things, like meat on Fridays. This helps us to grow in healthy self-denial and invites us to make sacrifices that free us to more intentionally satisfy our spiritual hunger. When looking at spiritual hunger, do we even acknowledge that this desire exists? Are we aware of it? We cannot live without God. Oftentimes, it can be tempting to focus more on satisfying our physical needs than our spiritual needs. Lent is a wonderful time to focus on satisfying our spiritual hunger for God. Can we discern a spiritual versus physical desire? Are we turning to good, Christian practices to help us sustain our spiritual bodies or are we starving them? Do we nourish our soul with Scripture and frequent reception of the sacraments or do we drown this desire in the noise of daily life? The Second Temptation: Power “Then he took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant. The devil said to him, ‘I shall give to you all this power and their glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours, if you worship me.’” (Luke 4: 5-7) In this temptation, the devil offers Jesus thrones and dominions, the powers of the world. Jesus knew that all powers belonged to His Father in heaven, and that all human power is a gift from God. On Ash Wednesday, we often hear the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Lent reminds us of our humble origin and our final end. It invites us to grow deeper in our humility and on our reliance on God, who elevates us to His sons and daughters through Baptism and invites us to eternal life with Him. What powers or successes are we tempted by in our lives? Are they disordered? Let us reflect on the things in our lives that we cling to, strive for, or attempt to control. Is there anything God is asking us to hand over that we can give Him this Lent? Have our goals become idols in our life? What false power have we been blinded by that has taken worship away from our Almighty and Triune God? The Third Temptation: Putting God to The Test “Then he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here…’” (Luke 4: 9-10) In this temptation, the devil challenges God’s authority and invites Jesus to test God’s power. What are the ways in which we test our Heavenly Father? Do we only turn to God in times of need or instead seek His guidance in all circumstances in life? There is a very important difference between throwing ourselves down in order to see if we’ll be caught versus allowing ourselves to fall, trusting that we’ll be held. Our relationship with our Heavenly Father should not be one of testing, but of trusting. By refusing to give in to the devil’s temptation, Jesus models for us trust, obedience, and faith—what Adam and Eve lacked when they experienced temptation in the Garden of Eden. As we continue through our Lenten journey, may we open ourselves to a deep and honest reflection of these temptations and remember that Christ has already overcome our greatest enemy: the devil. Our Savior, who is fully God and fully man, entered into a time of preparation to discipline and strengthen the physical in order to allow the spiritual to grow and develop. Christ shows us the way against temptation and gives us the strength to overcome it, knowing that the Father of Lies will be waiting with his temptations and tricks to stop us from fulfilling our role in salvation history. During Lent, let us continue to prepare for our call and, strengthened by the powers of heaven and Jesus Christ Himself, not allow the temptations of the Evil One to stand in our way. Questions for Reflection: What are your greatest temptations during Lent? What are some ways you have been able to overcome temptation? *This blog was originally published on March 1, 2018* AuthorElaine Seckar is the Wellness Coordinator of Saint Patrick Church in Carlisle, PA.
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 The day I have dreaded for years is coming – this August, my oldest child will go to his first day of school. Last month, my husband and I filled out our parish school’s enrollment paperwork for our son, and just like that, the days of being at home with mommy full-time are winding down. Of course, as a former Catholic school teacher, I know his time at school will be good. He will love making new friends, learning so many new things, and running nonstop around a new playground. But knowing in my head that his school will be a second home for him, filled with prayer and encouragement, does not make my heart stop from feeling a little sad at the fact that “My baby boy is growing up!”. This milestone moment of letting go – when I voluntarily forgo one thing in exchange for something better – has led me to reflect on our Lenten moments of letting go and their significance. (1) Worthwhile Sacrifice: Similarly to how I will forgo the weekday hours of playing with my son, in exchange for gifting him all the benefits of Catholic education, in Lent, we fast and give alms; that is, we choose to give up something – perhaps money, time, meat, or sweets – in exchange for something better like the “mastery over our instincts and freedom of heart” gained by acts of asceticism or self-discipline (CCC 2043). Gaining self-control through “voluntary self-denial such as fasting and almsgiving” – like sacrificially passing on dessert – can help prepare us for when the temptation to sin comes and help us grow stronger in resisting that temptation (CCC 1438). (2) An Opportunity to Refocus: Additionally, just like the reality check that in a few months I will be sending my oldest child to school reminds me to appreciate and be grateful for every moment I get to spend with him, our Lenten acts of fasting and almsgiving should serve as reminders to refocus ourselves on what should be at the center of our lives – our love of God and neighbor. Our earthly comfort and pleasures are not the be-all, end-all of our days, and complaining about minor inconveniences and sacrifices does not make us any holier. Rather, all our actions and all our resources should ultimately direct us towards achieving holiness and sharing the love of Christ with others. (3) Necessary Letting Go: Lastly, it is worth remembering that letting go of something can also be a necessary part of our journey towards Heaven. Just like in human development where a child naturally grows, learns, and eventually reaches adulthood, we can and should challenge ourselves to grow spiritually during this Lent – which will entail letting go of a sinful habit or two. This Lent, we can reflect, with the help of an excellent confession guide, perhaps, on what sinful habits we need to let go of. Also, we can reflect on how and in what areas we can improve. Lent needs not only focus on what sins we want to get rid of, but we can also focus this Lent on the positive spiritual habits we would like to begin. Afterall, Lent is a time of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, and we certainly should not forget to take this opportunity to bolster our prayer life. I pray your Lent is a holy and fruitful one that brings your focus ever more lovingly back to Christ.
 As we begin this season of Lent, let us open our hearts and minds to the transformation that can occur during this time. Lent is the forty days of waiting for the death and resurrection of Jesus. The forty days allow ourselves to reflect on ourselves and our relationship with Christ. These forty days are known as a fast. Some people take that in a literal sense, abstaining from sweets, soda, or some other unhealthy habit. Others may fast from social media or other activities. We also can take this time to deepen our sense of faith and look to Jesus for how we can better ourselves during this Lenten season. In the reading for the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the week before Lent, the Gospel gives us some inspiration of how we can reflect this Lenten season. It reads “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” (Luke 6:39-45). Why is it that we are so quick to pass judgement onto others but do not reflect on our own actions? Often, we are quick to critique a small flaw in others while turning a blind eye to a large issue within ourselves. Do we see the wooden beam in our eye and choose not to notice it, or are we blind to our faults? Either way, we are called to do some searching into the intentions within our own hearts during Lent. In the Gospel reading for Ash Wednesday, Jesus gives us advice on how we can look at ourselves during Lent and examine if we are being humble. He says, “When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). When we are doing a good deed, are we doing so from the goodness in our hearts, or are we doing so for the glory and praise of others? If it is the latter, then we should reframe our thinking around our actions. Later in the same reading, Jesus gives us guidance on how we can pray better during this Lenten season: "When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). Here, Jesus is asking us if we are living out our faith for him, or are we living out our faith for others? What are the intentions of our hearts in prayer? Is it to seem like the most holy to our peers, or is it wanting to actually strive for holiness? Our intentions should be pure and the opinions of our peers should not matter, as the only opinion of our holiness is that of the Lord. In these readings, right before Lent, we are given the opportunity to examine ourselves as we enter into this season. We can ask ourselves, “Am I ready for Lent? Is my heart ready to enter this season of waiting, or am I being passive to the change that is needed within my own heart?” I encourage us all to do some self-reflection as we enter into Lent and allow this season to transform our hearts to strive for holiness.
I am scared of Lent. There: I said it. This cradle Catholic, with plenty of Lents under her belt, is scared of one of the most sacred liturgical seasons in the Church. I’m not saying I don’t love it. I do. I loved when my favorite priest buried the “Hallelujah,” and then emptied our Church of decoration, only adding more as we got further into Lent and into spring. I love (well, love/hate) fasting, and the way my mind is automatically drawn toward my dependence on God and solidarity with others. And my favorite color is purple. So, yeah, Lent is my season. But I’m scared of it. Truth be told, I feel like I’m bad at Lent – never repentant enough, never serious enough, never sacrificing or doing enough. When I was little, I made charts to track my progress through the 40 days free of candy, or Facebook, or whatever I gave up. When I got older, I got smarter and started adding to my Lenten routine. More Scripture, more prayer, more almsgiving. Usually I do okay striking a balance between sacrificing for God and building toward God, but this year…all bets are off. This year, away from home, family, and friends, I’ve been feeling so restless. Isn’t this season a time to rest in God, and prepare our hearts for that life-changing Resurrection? Part of me feels like, “God, haven’t I given up enough? I’ve followed you into this desert that is rural Kentucky!” But part of me (and I’m sure this is the part the Holy Spirit is dealing with) knows there is always more. We can always remove more that stands in our way to the fullness of God. Yet, as Lent draws to an end, I still feel like I am figuring out what I’m doing. My housemates have all dutifully prayed; they have gracefully denied sweets and coffee and swear words. All I’ve managed to do is plod along through Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain, because hey – third time’s a charm, right? In the meantime, I thumb through my notebook still rewriting different versions of my Lenten plan. And there lies my problem; I am still trying to plan Lent. I have turned it into some Christian New Year’s Resolutions/Get-Right Plan for Lent 2013. If I “do” A, B, and C, then the Resurrection will surely come! If I “do” Lent with enough sacrifice, enough Bible study, enough whatever, then I’m sure to feel the Resurrection like never before. But maybe that’s not the way to do it. The Rev. William Bradley, in a sermon given on the first Sunday of Lent, said, “The difference between us and Jesus is that he doesn’t run from…insecurity, rather he embraces, inhabits it as part of his life with God. Rather than trying to fill it with people, things, drugs, and busyness, he sits with his emptiness to see if God will show up.” I haven’t quite figured out what I’m “doing” this Lenten season, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe I need to simply take my restlessness to God in prayer and sit with it, until I’m no longer with the restlessness but with the peace and grace that is God. Only once I can settle into being this Lent, can I start to actually do the life-giving practices of this holy season and rejoice in His resurrection that lies ahead. *This blog was originally published March 21, 2013* AuthorKatherine Biegner graduated from Assumption College and served as a tutor and mentor in the Christian Appalachian Project in rural Kentucky.
 Our Lenten pilgrimage is almost upon us! In this Jubilee Year as “pilgrims of hope,” we journey during Lent toward the hope of the Resurrection. We will go from walking into the desert with Jesus to walking to Emmaus with the Risen Christ. Throughout, he is accompanying us to a deeper encounter with him. In the Lenten part of our pilgrimage, we will use the practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving not as ends in themselves, but as means to live more fully our life in Christ. Our own effort alone does not produce holiness. Christ gives us the grace to grow more fully into life in him. The pilgrimage of Lent is not an end in itself. It is a time of preparation to celebrate our ultimate hope in the Risen Christ. He is hope itself. As Pope Francis reminds us: “The death and resurrection of Jesus is the heart of our faith and the basis of our hope” (Bull of Indiction for the Jubilee Year, 20). How do you intend to prepare for your Lenten pilgrimage? This pilgrimage is not a solo journey. We are on it together with the whole Church. In fact, our prayer, fasting, and almsgiving should move us to encounter Christ in the community of faith, the Church, and in those who are in need. Then, we become a sign of hope to others, accompanying them to greater life in Christ. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 In St. Peter’s speech at Pentecost he proclaims, “But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” (Acts 2:24) The truth of St. Peter’s words is made manifest in the liturgical rhythm of the Church year. Just as our Lord could not be held by the grave, the celebration of Easter cannot be held to just one day. In her beauty, the Church does not stop at the Octave of Easter either, but offers the faithful an entire liturgical season—50 whole days—to glory in Jesus’ resurrection. As Pope St. John Paul II declared, “We are an Easter people.” But once the beautiful liturgies of the Octave are behind us, the Easter lilies are removed from the churches, and the carrot cake has all been eaten, how are we to be an Easter people? One good place to begin is entering into the celebration of the liturgy. I have a distinct childhood memory of attending Easter Sunday Mass while my family was away on spring break. During the homily the priest invited everyone to exclaim ‘alleluia!’, and then do it again because we weren’t enthusiastic enough. As an unobservant and not-the-best catechised child, the purpose of this exercise was lost on me. But now, as a frequent daily Mass attendee I am much more aware of the forty long, alleluia-less days of Lent and more fully appreciate the significance of proclaiming alleluia together with renewed vigor on Easter and in the days that follow. During Lent many of us are motivated to make more time for Mass or prayer in our lives, which are beautiful practices to continue through the Easter season and beyond. Throughout the Masses of the Octave, the Victimae paschali laudes, an ancient chant, may be recited before the Gospel. Whether you attend Mass and hear the chant or simply take time to meditate on it each day, it is a beautiful tool for reflecting on the Paschal mystery in our lives and offering extra praise to the Lord: “The sheep are ransomed by the Lamb; / and Christ, the undefiled, / hath sinners to his Father reconciled.” Just as Lent is a time of remembering our mortality, Easter can be a time of remembering our Eternal life. Another liturgical tool to draw on is the Liturgy of the Hours, the communal prayer of the Church. In Morning Prayer throughout the Octave, we use the same psalms and canticle of Easter Sunday morning for all eight days. Particularly striking is the Canticle of Daniel (Daniel 3:57-88, 56), in which we pray that all things on Heaven and Earth bless the Lord: Let us bless the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Let us praise and exalt him above all forever. Blessed are you, Lord, in the firmament of heaven. Praiseworthy and glorious and exalted above all forever. Whether you are able to pray Morning Prayer, or any of the other hours, in community or humbly pray them alone, you are still raising your prayers with all the faithful throughout the Earth and elevating them through Jesus to the Father. Throughout the Easter season, the first readings at Mass are taken from the Acts of the Apostles. Practically this makes sense since Acts recounts the events following Jesus’ death and resurrection. But there is also a spiritual significance to reading from this book during the Easter season. Just like His first disciples, we aren’t meant to keep our alleluias and joy in the Lord’s resurrection and salvation confined to our churches or to ourselves, but to proclaim them to the world. It took a little encouragement for the apostles to do this, and so it may for us, but we too can say with St. Peter: “He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets bear witness, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.” (Acts 10:42-43) The Easter season is a grace-filled time to unite ourselves to this age-old mission of the Apostles and share the Good News of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that, “Beginning with the Easter Triduum as its source of light, the new age of the Resurrection fills the whole liturgical year with its brilliance.” (Paragraph 1168) At the Easter Vigil, the faithful are invited to renew their baptismal promises and remember the light of Christ that is within them. As we make our way through the Easter season, let us glorify Christ in the liturgy and let the brilliance of the Eternal Light shine forth from our churches and our hearts.
 The time of the Paschal Triduum and the Easter season are almost upon us. How has the time of Lent been? It is meant to be one of ongoing conversion to Christ – metanoia. The Triduum offers us a deeper time of conversion. The Gospel readings of those days give us much to reflect on our own discipleship of Christ. On Holy Thursday, during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we experience table fellowship, the first Eucharist, and the witness of Christ in service to his Apostles through the washing of the feet. It is an example that we are called to follow. During the Commemoration of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, we hear of the betrayal of Judas, the denial by Peter, the suffering of Jesus, and the grief of those at the foot of the Cross, especially the Blessed Virgin Mary. In what occurs, we consider the ways in which we have not lived for Christ and how we can unite our suffering to his on the Cross. At the Easter Vigil, in the announcement of the angel to Mary Magdalene and the women at the tomb, we learn about the possibility of eternal life given to us all through the Risen Christ. On Easter Sunday, we see and believe, as the disciple whom Jesus loved did, the hope of the Resurrection. In this hope, we proclaim the Risen Christ as Savior of the world! Metanoia, ongoing conversion, is a patient journey that leads to our true joy, deeper encounter with the Risen Christ! May the charity of Christ urge us on! May you have a blessed Paschal Triduum and a joyous Easter! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I’m not much of a poetry person. I did what I could to avoid it in middle and high school, as well as college. But there is one poem that I like—in fact, that I love. It goes like this: “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. That is “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickenson. I always liked the poem, the way it rhymes and the way it rolls off the tongue. It became even more important to me when my father became ill. I clung to this poem because it reminded me that hope is always with us; that even in the greatest storm, hope remains and remains without ceasing. As Christians, we cling to hope. This season of Lent which we find ourselves in right now is a period that prepares and leads us to that ultimate instance of hope in the Christian life: the Resurrection. Much like the hope that Dickenson writes of in her poem, the hope of the Resurrection remains with us at all times. It never stops, it remains with us in our souls, and it is, if I may create a word, “unabashable.” The thing is, it can be hard to see this hope in our lives, regardless of its unceasing presence. Pope Francis dedicates two paragraphs of Fratelli Tutti to the virtue of hope. He writes: Hope speaks to us of a thirst, an aspiration, a longing for a life of fulfillment, a desire to achieve great things, things that fill our heart and lift our spirit to lofty realities like truth, goodness and beauty, justice and love… Hope is bold; it can look beyond personal convenience, the petty securities and compensations which limit our horizon, and it can open us up to grand ideals that make life more beautiful and worthwhile” (Fratelli Tutti, 55). Hope transcends our ups and our downs, our individual trials and tribulations, not because they are insignificant, but because the Resurrection, in the end, is greater than every one of those. The hope of the Resurrection doesn’t minimize our trials, or even our personal convenience and petty securities, but it is the light which illuminates the darkness and allows us to move past them on our journey with Christ. The hope of the Resurrection, the hope of Christ perches in our soul and it sings the tune of Alleluia (pardon my use during Lent) without ceasing. This hope, much like the little bird that Dickenson describes, is in fact sweetest in the gale, in the storm, because we are called to recall that Jesus Christ will provide for us in ways that no other person or thing ever can. In the midst of Lent, much like through all of our sufferings, hope can be heard as a melodious tune above the groans of those trials which we face. May we look to hope, the thing with feathers, the Resurrection, this Lent and always. For more resources to accompany you during your Lenten journey, please click here. **This blog was originally published on March 16, 2021.**
 “Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him.” -Luke 9:32 Twice in the Gospels we hear of the trio of disciples sleeping at pivotal moments in Christ’s life and ministry: at the Transfiguration – in this Sunday’s Gospel – and in the Garden of Gethsemane during Christ’s Agony. Both times, Christ is in deep prayer. And both times, Peter, James, and John are “overcome by sleep.” I get it. The group of men have just hiked up a mountain. It would have been normal to rest after such a grueling endeavor. Similarly, in the Garden, Jesus took the three disciples to pray after the Feast of the Passover—a long, filling meal complete with wine. I think of all the times I’ve napped after a holiday meal and sympathize with Peter, James, and John. In these scenes, they are so human. They become tired and rest their eyes. And yet, because of their physical tiredness, they miss out on God’s glory. In this week’s Gospel for the Second Sunday of Lent, Jesus is transfigured and his three beloved disciples are offered a glimpse of the glory to come—not only the glory of the Resurrected Christ, but the glory that awaits all men and women who allow themselves to be transformed by his grace. This Lent, I find myself asking, “Am I asleep with his disciples? What’s causing me to shut my eyes to God’s glory?” These questions are what have guided my Lenten journey as I discern how to grow in holiness this season. Each year, the Church in her wisdom asks us to reflect on what is making us spiritually sluggish and helps us prepare for Easter through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. By ramping up in these three Lenten tenets, we can grow in our ability to see God’s will and the Holy Spirit at work in our lives. Had the Apostles been awake throughout the entirety of Christ’s Transfiguration, they would have basked longer in this glory—fear and confusion would not have gripped them. Lent calls us to wake up, to be alert, not only for the Easter celebration, but for God’s invitation to greater holiness throughout our lives. Pope Francis highlights Lent as the continuation of the “journey of conversion.” This journey is a lifelong one. And yet, seasons such as Lent, which focus on an even greater attention to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, often spur us deeper and further on this journey towards Christ. As Pope Francis encouraged in his 2019 Lenten message: Let us not allow this season of grace to pass in vain! Let us ask God to help us set out on a path of true conversion. Let us leave behind our selfishness and self-absorption, and turn to Jesus’ Pasch. Let us stand beside our brothers and sisters in need, sharing our spiritual and material goods with them. In this way, by concretely welcoming Christ’s victory over sin and death into our lives, we will also radiate its transforming power to all of creation. The goal of Lent is not only Easter, but Christ Himself. This Lent, may our participation in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving help us shake off the drowsiness that shuts our eyes to God’s glory. For more resources to accompany you throughout your Lenten journey, please click here. Questions for Reflection: Am you asleep with Christ's disciples? What’s causing you to shut your eyes to God’s glory?” **This blog was originally published on March 12, 2019.**
 “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.” This is the short prayer I was once encouraged to pray as a penance by a wise, older priest. As we find ourselves at the start of Lent, these words once again come to mind, and I would like to offer them for your contemplation. The Church offers the season of Lent as an opportunity to prepare Her children well for Christ’s resurrection–both at the celebration of Easter (March 31 this year) and at His Second Coming. These preparations take the form of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; the spiritual, penitential, and charitable practices we take up and the worldly things we put down. For forty days we walk into the desert, just as Jesus did, to humbly open ourselves to temptations and more fully offer our lives to the Lord. So what does that prayer–letting there be more of Jesus and less of me–have to do with Lent? Well…everything. In the first reading at Mass on Ash Wednesday, the prophet Joel extols us: “Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God” with your whole hearts (Joel 2:12). The Lord does not want to see what we can do of our own strength or will during this season; He wants us to see what He can do through us and the transformation He can work within us. Lent certainly calls for a degree of testing the limits of our comfort zones. More than this, it is an invitation to leave behind our will and consider the offerings and changes that will help us become more like Christ. As you reflect on your Lenten practices, consider asking yourself: “What can I offer to Jesus? How can I make more room for Him in my life? What can I let go of that will help me on this journey?” Approaching Lent in this way necessitates an act of surrender. It requires us to focus less on the material outcomes and more on the spiritual. This might mean to not give up ice cream like you do every Lent and instead, or additionally, prayerfully consider what areas of your life you have been keeping the Lord out of. St. John Henry Newman speaks to this in a sermon for the First Sunday of Lent: “...fasting is only one branch of a large and momentous duty, the subdual of ourselves to Christ. We must surrender to Him all we have, all we are. We must keep nothing back.” This, admittedly, is a challenging invitation, but remember that we are not doing Lent on our own. We are doing it with Jesus. This act of surrender necessitates reliance. And this reliance requires humility; an admission of our own weakness and powerlessness compared to Christ’s great strength. When you want to snooze your alarm and eschew the morning prayer time you’ve committed to, offer that to the Lord. When you are tempted to join in the office gossip, ask for Jesus’ strength. Ordinary as these offerings may be, that does not mean they are easy. If we have chosen to subdue ourselves for Christ’s sake, we can trust that He will provide the grace and strength we lack. As Catherine Doherty writes in Season of Mercy, “Mortification and penance are a passionate response of a man to a Passionate Lover who is God.” In humbly striving to more fully do the will of the Father, we naturally make more room for Jesus. As you surrender yourself to Him this Lent, also rely on Him. He wants us, and the attachments that bind us, to shrink away only so that His mercy and love can reign more completely. “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.”
It’s amazing to think that we have wandered with Jesus in the desert for nearly forty days now. I have taken this Lenten season to feel more connected with Jesus and strengthen my relationship with him in prayer. This past Sunday, the Church celebrated Palm Sunday, which commemorates Jesus’ journey into Jerusalem and marks the first day of Holy Week, one of the most important times in our faith. The rest of this week consists of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter, all of which are wonderful times to reflect on the strength and love shown by Jesus during his final days, his Death, and his Resurrection.
The Gospel for this past week is one that I always find interesting to hear, as it gives a lot of insight into some of the traditions that we see during our usual Sunday services. For example, in this Gospel we hear about the Body and Blood of Christ at the Last Supper, “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, ‘Take and eat; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, from now on I shall not drink this fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it with you new in the kingdom of my Father (Mt 26:14—27:66).” While not the direct translation said during Mass, this is something that we hear every time we are at church, something that is just ingrained in the flow of Mass, yet here, in one of the most important readings in our faith, we see how it first began. I like to imagine myself as a fly on the wall during the Last Supper. How did the apostles react? What was their body language? Were they scared, confused, or excited to be with Jesus? Jesus knew what he was about to face on the Cross; he knew about his eventual Death and Resurrection. Yet, he knew his work before those events was not done; he had to continue to preach to the apostles. In hindsight, probably no one would’ve expected him to do that; he was facing death! Nowadays, people will say, “If you knew you only had one week left before you died, what would you do?” The usual answers are things like going on a fancy vacation, winning the lottery, and completing items on one’s bucket list, but the reality is that most of us don’t know when our time will come. On the contrary, Jesus did know what his fate would be when he entered Jerusalem. He knew the importance of his death on the Cross, and he knew it was important for him not to stray from his intentions. The strength shown by Jesus in this Last Supper is one that few could’ve shown, and it is important for us to recognize as we continue through Holy Week. As we finish up our 2023 Lenten season, I hope that you all have taken some time to deepen your relationship with Christ and reflect on the importance of the season in your own heart. May these last few days of Lent guide you through some of the darkest days of our Church into the glory of the Resurrection. I hope you all have a wonderful Easter celebration!
 As I have gotten older, my favorite part about Lent has become the fact that we have the privilege of willingly walking into the desert - into these 40 days - with our Lord. I think there are a lot of times in our lives when we suddenly find ourselves in the desert - desperate for water, nourishment, or companionship. It is in the desert where we not only grow in intimacy with the Lord, but are also able to be strengthened through real repentance. What is true for us in the deserts of our lives is the same thing that was true for the Prodigal Son in this Sunday’s Gospel: we receive the promise of a Father who receives our repentance with mercy. The story of the Prodigal Son is an important one for us to reflect upon as we continue on our Lenten journeys - it is through repentance that the very son who squandered his inheritance is welcomed back with open arms into the mercy of his father. And the story doesn’t end there: not only does the father embrace and welcome his son back, he rejoices and celebrates his return for those around him to see. It is through our repentance that we experience the mercy of God; it is through our repentance that we receive the promise of the desert of these 40 days. This is so beautifully echoed in all the readings that the Church gives us during this season: God the Father rejoices when we are brought back to life again (Luke 15:32). We as Catholics have the unique privilege of receiving this mercy every time we hear the words of the priest absolving us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Our moments of feeling desperate in the desert can be alleviated by honest repentance. After one particularly frustrating time in my life, I remember feeling like the Prodigal Son: convicted that I needed to repent and return to God, but also feeling shame over all the ways that I had squandered what the Lord had given me. And in that moment a priest reminded me that confession is always a place of victory. Like the prodigal son who acknowledged his failures and was welcomed back with mercy and celebration, we too find an outpouring of mercy and grace when we reconcile ourselves to God. As we journey towards Calvary, we do so knowing that our repentance leads to an encounter of mercy and ultimately to victory. Questions for Reflection: What are some moments in your life when you’ve encountered the mercy of God and others? How did these moments affect you? For more resources to accompany you in your Lenten journey, please click here. **This post was originally published on 3/28/2019**
 On the First Sunday of Lent, the Gospel described how Jesus fasted for forty days and forty nights, and yet when Satan approached him in this state of hunger, he was still able to resist the temptation to turn stones into bread and provide food for himself. Jesus responded to this test by recalling the words of Deuteronomy 8:3, “[The LORD] therefore let you be afflicted with hunger, and then fed you with manna, a food unknown to you and your ancestors, so you might know that it is not by bread alone that people live, but by all that comes forth from the mouth of the LORD. This passage pairs beautifully with the brief but profound and beautiful reflection contained in that Sunday’s Prayer after Communion: “Renewed now with heavenly bread, by which faith is nourished, hope increased, and charity strengthened, we pray, O Lord, that we may learn to hunger for Christ, the true and heavenly Bread, and strive to live by every word which proceeds from your mouth. Through Christ our Lord.” With these words, the liturgy reminds us of why fasting is so central to our Lenten observances. Firstly, when we are “afflicted with hunger,” we more readily recognize our frailty and our dependence on God’s providence, just as the Israelites did when the Lord provided manna to sustain them in their desert wanderings. In our weakness and tendency toward self-reliance, we are invited to acknowledge that the food that we have is a gift which we receive from the Lord’s bounty. Second, we are reminded that the physical hunger we experience is not mortification for its own sake, nor do we choose to feel this hunger simply to “appear to others to be fasting” (Mt 6:16) and score points with them or with God. Rather, foregoing physical nourishment is a means towards the end of “learn[ing] to hunger for Christ, the true and heavenly Bread.” This penance reorients our appetites, redirecting them from worldly comforts to that which provides true sustenance—Christ, who offers his very self to us as “the bread of heaven” and “the cup of salvation.” Indeed, as Jesus says, “My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him” (Jn 6:55-56). Therefore, “The principal fruit of receiving the Eucharist in Holy Communion is an intimate union with Christ Jesus” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1391). While we often seek to satisfy our earthly cravings through superficial means, Christ satisfies our hunger for goodness and love in a way nothing on earth could. The relationship into which we enter through the eucharistic banquet sustains us in our day-to-day living and puts us in touch, in intimacy with Christ who knows well our sufferings, offers us compassion and solidarity, and models for us a way forward. Having received this heavenly nourishment, Jesus abides in us so that God’s grace can act in us more freely. It turns us outward in service of others, for “As bodily nourishment restores lost strength, so the Eucharist strengthens our charity, which tends to be weakened in daily life…By giving himself to us Christ revives our love and enables us to break our disordered attachments to creatures and root ourselves in him” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1394). Looking beyond our own needs and desires, we recognize the needs and desires of our neighbor and are moved to action. We are drawn “into Jesus’ act of self-oblation…More than just statically receiving the incarnate Logos, we enter into the very dynamic of his self-giving” (Deus Caritas Est, 13). We are moved to acts of service and almsgiving, to be bread for others. Indeed, “The Eucharist commits us to the poor. To receive in truth the Body and Blood of Christ given up for us, we must recognize Christ in the poorest, his brethren: ‘You have tasted the Blood of the Lord, yet you do not recognize your brother’” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1397). As we fast this Lent, then, let us be mindful of how our hunger directs us to Christ present in the Bread of Life and in our neighbor. The grace before meals I have prayed since I was a child sums this up beautifully: “Señor, da pan a los que tienen hambre y hambre de ti a los que temenos pan” (“O Lord, give bread to those who hunger, and a hunger for you to those of us who have bread”).
 The tenth anniversary of the election of Pope Francis was on March 13th and anniversary of the inauguration of his Petrine Ministry was on March 19th. As we commemorate these special anniversaries, it is worth reflecting on his continual call to all the baptized to share responsibility for the mission of Christ and the Church as missionary disciples. He is simply restating the teachings of the Second Vatican Council. Living this mission is part of our call to holiness. Pope Francis describes holiness in Gaudate et Exultate “To be holy does not require being a bishop, a priest or a religious. We are frequently tempted to think that holiness is only for those who can withdraw from ordinary affairs to spend much time in prayer. That is not the case. We are all called to be holy by living our lives with love and by bearing witness in everything we do, wherever we find ourselves. Are you called to the consecrated life? Be holy by living out your commitment with joy. Are you married? Be holy by loving and caring for your husband or wife, as Christ does for the Church. Do you work for a living? Be holy by laboring with integrity and skill in the service of your brothers and sisters. Are you a parent or grandparent? Be holy by patiently teaching the little ones how to follow Jesus. Are you in a position of authority? Be holy by working for the common good and renouncing personal gain” (14). Prayer, both communal and individual, along with the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, which Pope Francis has emphasized often, will aid us in living holiness in the way that he describes. Lent is the perfect time to deepen our efforts, always done with the grace of God. Ad multos annos, Pope Francis! May the Charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
“Return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning; Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the Lord, your God. For gracious and merciful is he, slow to anger, rich in kindness, and relenting in punishment” (Jl 2:12-13).
There’s a moment in every Lent when I begin to stumble. When the promises I made seem too difficult, when I convince myself that the Lord doesn’t need my sacrifice, when I begin to follow the call of comfort and leave Christ’s side—and very suddenly I find myself lost in the desert. Maybe this experience sounds familiar to you, finding yourself two, four, six weeks into Lent, and all of a sudden you lose your motivation and forget why you decided to make your Lenten promises in the first place. It can be tempting when you find yourself in the place I fondly call “the mid-Lent slump” to give up entirely and say, “Maybe next year will be better,” “Maybe next year will be my year,” but in this post I want to present a different solution. This year, when we find ourselves lost in the desert, let’s press into the discomfort and ask Christ to teach us how to be with Him there. There’s a meditation that I have found to be incredibly helpful when I find myself in this place during Lent. Begin by placing yourself at the scene of the Baptism in the Jordan. What does it look like, smell like, sound like? How do you feel when it is revealed that the man in front of you is the Son of God? Then Jesus begins to walk into the desert and you follow Him. Why do you follow? Have you prepared for this trip, or have you brought nothing, trusting that He will provide? How do you feel now that you are in the desert? When we find ourselves in “the mid-Lent slump,” we need to remind ourselves of why we committed to Lent in the first place. When we are able to remember this “why,” we are given new strength to continue into the desert, to press in with Jesus into the discomfort, leaning on Him for strength, because we realize we aren’t alone in the desert. All of this, however, can be very difficult without practical steps to return to Jesus in the desert. Here are some that I have found to be most helpful when Lent becomes difficult.
Most importantly, as you press into Lent in the midst of the “slump,” remember the Lord’s unending mercy and love for you. As it says in Joel 2, God desires for us to return to Him with contrite hearts so that He can pour out His mercy and grace onto us. When you find yourself struggling in Lent, turn back to Him in all His kindness, and ask Him to walk with you and give you the strength you need to continue following Him into the desert.
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