Lenten Reflections
First Friday of Lent
Reflection for the First Friday of Lent
by Mr. Chris Canniff, Principal
As Lent began this week, I spent some time reading the Book of Joel. It’s a short text of a minor prophet, often overlooked amidst the many more substantial works of the Old Testament. However, it has its moment to shine each year on Ash Wednesday when the first reading of the Mass includes Joel’s famous injunction to “rend your hearts, not your garments.” During the liturgy, our lectionary presents us with just seven verses from the second chapter; this particular pericope tells us of a remedy and healing but without first telling us of the malady and affliction. I decided I should pull out my bible to see what else Joel had said first.
The book opens with an announcement of disaster, which the prophet clearly sees as the judgment of God being brought down upon his people, though the prophet believes the people are blind to their part in this calamity. He shouts to rouse them to an awareness of their hand in it all. Rains never came in late autumn and winter. Locusts swarmed in the spring. The fields of Judah would yield no harvest. Figs and pomegranates, dates and apples—the imagery of fruits typically lush in the region contrasts with the drying and devouring forces of nature in Joel’s extended metaphor. He tells us that even “joy itself has dried up.”
What does it mean for joy to dry up? Well, C.S. Lewis often spoke of joy as desire or longing, rather than by the common conception of happiness or delight. In his most profound novel, Till We Have Faces, one character declares, “The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing—to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from…[to attain to] my country, the place where I ought to have been born.”
Is this the sort of joy that has dried up? Let’s look around our own modern spiritual landscape, different in so many ways from Joel’s ancient setting, yet strikingly similar too. A contentedness with the base ways of the world. A loss of desire for God. As in our time, so also in Joel’s. Our faith and joy, like that of the people in the prophet’s day, are withered, desiccated, and brittle. We live a self-imposed exile from the garden of God in the desert of this world.
It is indeed a convicting passage. The malady and affliction are damaging and ugly. But, we also know the remedy and healing can be practiced and gained. For as was said in the reading we heard from Joel at Mass, “Return to [the Lord] with your whole heart, with fasting, weeping, and mourning; rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the Lord, your God.”
This Lent we should seek each day to give God our whole heart. This is one reason why we fast: to see that our heart will find all it needs in him alone. Then all our longing will be for him, reaching out toward our true home. Our joy will be restored. When God looks upon the soul who longs for him in this way, these encouraging words from Joel ring true: “Then the Lord was stirred to concern for his land and took pity on his people.”
Second Friday of Lent
Lenten Reflection, February 23, 2024
Ms. Rosa Mazzeo, Theology Faculty
This morning while I was walking my dog, I realized that even a cold day in February, with no signs of spring in the air, can seem beautiful once the sun shines its light and warmth upon it. I actually stopped for ten minutes to take it all in. There’s a wooded area in my backyard where I often take Cooper when it’s too cold to go too far. Today I looked around at all the broken branches and dried out leaves from the trees and found a sense of peace. We both stood there appreciating its beauty in the stillness of the moment and the warmth of the sun. I have been there so many times and only noticed what it lacked, the sounds and sights of spring, but today I found refuge among the bare trees. Everything I needed was there on a cold February day. Why had I not seen it before? Was it because I was focused on what was lacking instead of what was there? This was my inspiration for today’s Lenten reflection.
The daily readings this week seemed to have one common theme: to love one another the way God loves us. I often imagine myself having a conversation with God where I ask God why there is so much suffering in the world. What’s the secret to a happy life, I ask, and God answers “it’s very simple, just love one another”. I often tell my students that God gives us everything we need here on earth. We just need to discover it. The answer can be right in front of us, but we don’t see it. Perhaps we get overwhelmed and think that life’s challenges are too hard to solve on our own, but are we really alone or is God leading the way for us? Isn’t God present in all of us, in God’s entire creation?
In Monday’s reading from the Old Testament, we are given laws about what we should not do to each other. In the Gospel from the Book of Matthew, Jesus tells his followers: “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” and “what you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me.” Although most of us would say that we do not purposely hurt others, do we get so involved in our own daily lives that we miss the opportunities to help others when they need us? It is so easy to excuse our behavior or our lack of attention to those around us. Would we walk past Jesus if he needed our help?
In Friday’s reading the prophet Ezekiel tell us “…if he keeps all my statutes and does what is right and just, he shall surely live, he shall not die.” We are called not only to obey God’s laws but to do what is right and just. How we do this is answered by this week’s scripture readings. We are given the Corporal Works of Mercy which call us to take care of those who need our help, and we are reassured that we are not alone in our works in Psalm 23 which confirms, “The Lord is my Shepherd and there is nothing I shall want.” We are taught how to pray the Our Father in Tuesday’s Gospel which instructs us how to follow God, “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Lastly, but certainly not least, God gave us our Church through the Apostle Peter. God knows that we need each other’s help to do what is right and just. God, indeed, gives us everything we need to bring about the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. We are called to be Church to each other. Let us all answer God’s call to love one another the way God loves us.
Third Friday of Lent
Lenten Reflection, March 1, 2024
Mr. Vincent Valentine, Theology Faculty
This past Sunday was the Second Sunday of our Lenten Season, and it featured one of the most profound selections from the entire Old Testament as the first reading, which is the famous event known as the “Binding of Isaac” from Genesis 22. This story is sometimes referred to by scholars as the “Calvary of the Old Testament” due to its close parallels with Christ on Good Friday. I want to focus on some of these parallels that are worth meditating on during this Lenten season.
The first major point that should be made is that the belief that Isaac is a young child in Genesis 22 is a very unusual position to hold in both ancient Judaism and in our Catholic tradition. The reason for this is that the text tells us Abraham strapped the wood for the sacrifice onto Isaac in Genesis 22:6, which would imply he would need to be a young adult who was strong enough to carry the heavy wood for the burnt offering up the mountain. This is a very significant point to the story, as it implies Isaac was someone who fully cooperated with Abraham in his own sacrifice, since it would not have been possible for Abraham in his elderly age to overpower Isaac had Isaac resisted.
However, the most significant of the remarkable parallels between Isaac and Jesus would be the geographical location of the events taking place, as the mountain Abraham attempts to sacrifice Isaac on is Mt. Moriah, which is a range of hills where Mt. Calvary is located. Mt. Calvary is famously the mountain where Christ will eventually carry his wooden cross up to be crucified around two-thousand years after the events of Genesis 22 unfold.
Thus, what the Church wants us to see is that we have two only-begotten sons in Isaac and Jesus, who both carry wood up the same exact mountain, offering themselves in sacrifice out of love and obedience to the Father. God is basically asking Abraham and Isaac if they would be willing to forego the same sacrifice that the Holy Trinity will later forego on the very same mountain to bring about God’s promise of “great blessing” to the entire world. It is worth mentioning that Mary, our Blessed Mother, will also make this connection by telling us that this covenant oath given by God to Abraham in Genesis 22 of a future “great blessing” for the whole world is fulfilled through Jesus Christ in her famous Magnificat in Luke 1:46-55.
The significance this has for us as Catholics today, especially during Lent, is impossible to overstate. The daily Gospel readings on both Tuesday and Wednesday of this week focus on this idea of service, telling us that this willingness to serve, even a willingness to offer one’s own life for others as Isaac and Jesus both do, is the metric Jesus discusses that determines greatness in His kingdom (Matthew 20:17-28). For instance, Jesus tells us that “the greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23:11-12). It is for this reason that Jesus is the greatest in His kingdom, since He performs the greatest act of service by offering up His own body and blood as a Eucharistic sacrifice in service for us all.
We ought to meditate on these words from Jesus, as well as how he lived His life acting as a “new Isaac” on Mt. Calvary, sacrificing Himself for all of us. If greatness in the kingdom is determined by service to others as Jesus tells us, then a good mediation for us this lent would be to ask God for the grace to not worry about what others can do for us, but rather what we can do for others through acts of self-sacrificial love.”
Fourth Friday of Lent
Lenten Reflection, March 8, 2024
Jeanne Bentley , Theology Faculty
I was not yet 14. I was about to enter my freshman year at Matignon High in Cambridge. The prior spring was spent getting all the necessary paperwork, entrance exams, and physicals required by the admissions office. The doctor found I had developed significant scoliosis in my back. The remedy for this was a brace. This was no ordinary inconspicuous brace. This was a Milwaukee Brace - a contraption that fits over one’s entire torso with metal bars and pads. It also had a chin pad to ensure my head stayed very erect and did not allow much movement. I was a young teen full of excitement and trepidation that summer of 1970. Showing up to a new school looking like Frankenstein’s bride was not what I had in mind. The brace was custom-made to fit my proportions so it took a few months before I had to wear it. Then the day of reckoning came. It had arrived. I had to wear it 23 hours daily with 1 hour off to do back exercises. The humiliation of wearing this contraption along with the blisters, discomfort, and inability to wear normal clothes or play sports seemed too much to bear one day. So, I told my father through tears and rage that I wasn’t going to wear it anymore. For hours, my father comforted me, empathized with me, and reasoned with me - all in vain. In frustration he told me to live with my grandmother down the street so that I could get all the sympathy and pity I wanted; but, my back would never get better. I had better get my bags packed. He left me wallowing in my self-righteous self-pity. I felt abandoned, alone and completely helpless. In utter despair, I gave up. A tremendous sense of peace came over me. I learned one of the most important lessons of my life that day. The acceptance of the pain freed me from the suffering. I realized my suffering was brought on by me. I chose it. Now, I could use the pain to transform myself somehow. It did transform me. I noticed I was more in tune with other people’s pain; I could connect with it. I grew compassionate.
What do you do with your pain? St. Paul says, “Jews demand signs (miraculous demonstrations) and Greeks look for wisdom, but we proclaim Christ Crucified.” 1 Corinthians 22-25. Only through pain or true love comes transformation. Love is beautiful and joyful; but, inherent in love is also suffering. When we experience love for the other, we experience the other’s joy, but also their pain. We experience compassion. Author, Frederick Buechner describes compassion in the following way: “Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”
“We proclaim Christ crucified.” Jesus holds our pain on the cross. As Fr. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan, says Jesus himself becomes transformed by pain into the risen Christ. He never plays the victim or succumbs to self-pity. He accepts the suffering which seems like “foolishness” to the world. However, as Paul says, “the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.”
Pain and suffering are the flip side of love. Christ crucified is pure love and suffering. Jesus did not send his pain outward into the world or onto others in the form of blame, resentment, or self-pity. We are called to do the same.
Fifth Friday of Lent
Lenten Reflection, March 15, 2024
Mr. Ryan Carney, Campus Minister and Theology Faculty
This past week during Fenwick connect, I listened to students read this story from the Gospel:
As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam” —which means Sent—. So he went and washed, and came back able to see.
I feel like the blind man a lot. The things that blind me are mainly stress, anxiety, and busyness. “If the devil cannot make us bad, he will make us busy.” That’s certainly true for me.
It’s hard to remember how God is all around us. It requires slowing down and taking deep breaths. In fact, I often find that I need to close my eyes and breathe for a minute before I feel like God actually “opens” my eyes.
So after closing my eyes and breathing, here are a few places that I have seen God present in my life this week:
In our Act of Kindness Project: This past weekend, my freshmen were challenged to do one random act of kindness. One student chose to hug his Dad. In a reflection on it he wrote, “I don’t remember the last time that I hugged my Dad but it had been a while. Right when he got home and walked through the door I gave him a big hug. He was surprised, but I could tell by his face that it meant a lot to him.”
In popcorn and hot cocoa: This year I’ve tried all kinds of things to get students involved in Campus Ministry. By far the most successful has been to have hot cocoa and popcorn readily available - even my clothes are starting to smell like popcorn. Now when students come barging down the door looking for a snack, I try to ask myself what Jesus would do. Would Jesus grind away for an extra 10 minutes on his laptop? Or would he close the laptop and share some popcorn?
Outside: On Wednesday I was feeling stuck so I went for a short walk outside. It’s easy to feel big and important inside. But next to huge, old trees behind Fenwick’s campus, I feel like a small part of God’s plan. On my walk, I got this sense that all of this was made for us to share with each other and with God. As St. Ignatius says, “God created human beings to praise, reverence, and serve God, and by doing this, to save their souls. God created ALL other things on the face of the earth to help fulfill this purpose.”
As we near the end of Lent, I’m trying to wipe the clay from my eyes and see God in front of me in everything and everyone. And when I feel blinded the next day, to do it again and again.
Sixth Sunday of Lent
Lenten Reflection, March 22, 2024
Mr. Alexander Palmquist
Theology Faculty
This past Sunday was Passion Sunday, nowadays known as the fifth Sunday of Lent. My church has veiled all statues, icons and crucifixes with violet cloth, and so it will remain until after Our Lord's Passion. This is because Jesus, "hid Himself," in the Gospel reading (according to John) for Passion Sunday.
This brings two thoughts, in the form of questions, to my mind. One, how often have my sins caused the Lord to flee from my heart (in John's Gospel, Jesus hid Himself because His fellow Jews were trying to stone Him in the temple)? Two, though He has hidden Himself, do I seek Him at once? Do I make any account of the precious treasure of divine love?
Today, on the Friday before Good Friday, the Church (in Ecuador, a place I briefly called home over ten years ago) observes a feast to honor the Seven Sorrows of Mary. Only seven of Our Lady's sorrows are given, from the flight into Egypt (fleeing King Herod, who also sought to kill Our Lord) to Mary meeting Jesus on the Way of the Cross. I say "only seven" because the total number of sorrows Our Blessed Mother endured during her life cannot be estimated; they are inconceivable. Her sorrows culminated during the week of her Son's bitter passion and death, which is this coming week; Holy Week. This brings to mind another thought in question form, how have my sins caused Our Lady's bitter grief?
Though many are my sins that caused Our Lord and Our Lady so much suffering, I am moved with compassion to console them both. Our Lord once said to Blessed Veronica de Binasco, "My daughter, the tears which you shed in compassion for My sufferings are pleasing to Me, but bear in mind that on account of My infinite love for My mother, the tears you shed in compassion for her sufferings are still more precious." Who among us would not console our own mothers when we behold them in their suffering? So should we also and all the more console our Heavenly Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who in one week's time will once again be given to us as our Spiritual Mother by Our Lord as He hangs on the Cross. In truth, Mary is the Mother of Mercy, she is our Mother. Whoever acknowledges Christ as King must also acknowledge Mary as Queen and Mother. May we enter this coming week, Holy Week, with a desire to console Our Lord in his bitter passion and Our Blessed Mother in her bitter grief.