Longing for spring:

A year of pandemic makes us appreciate Lent more deeply

Bishop John Stowe, OFM Conv.

It was just about a year ago when I was reading news reports from Italy about the rapid spread of the novel coronavirus. I also caught the notice from my Franciscan brothers at the Basilica of St. Anthony in Padua that they were cancelling Ash Wednesday services because of the danger. I thought how impossible it seemed that such a major shrine could cancel Ash Wednesday; it was unthinkable!

Little did I know that soon after, on St. Patrick’s Day, I would make the very difficult decision to suspend in-person attendance at Mass for all in the diocese — which, as everyone knows, lasted well beyond Holy Week and Easter. I was probably still in shock from the consideration that the cancellation of Masses on Ash Wednesday was unthinkable, when I found myself celebrating the entire Easter Triduum without a congregation.

Now as we have entered the second Lenten season during the pandemic, I know not to take anything for granted anymore. Last year’s Ash Wednesday included prayers for people suffering from an unusual malady elsewhere; this year, those who received ashes did so in an unusual manner, not having the visible black cross stamped on our foreheads for fear of spreading the virus through touch. A less visible sign of our commitment to repentance and renewal seems to fit with the Gospel passage that day, in which Jesus warns against performing our prayers, fasting or almsgiving for public notice and encourages us to do them quietly, assuring us that our Heavenly Father does indeed notice.

Last year, we celebrated a joyous and memorable Rite of Election on the First Sunday of Lent, an occasion that filled the cathedral church as catechumens were welcomed to the rolls of the Church’s elect in preparation for their baptism and candidates for full communion in the Catholic Church were recognized for their continuing conversion. Little did we know that we would face hurdles and complications to actually baptize, confirm and share the Eucharist with those called that day. But we managed!

Looking back, I was touched by many stories of families gathered around a computer screen with lit candles and praying together in their domestic churches (although maybe in bathrobes and slippers). I heard of the hunger for the Eucharist and the desire to be with their fellow parishioners that was only expressed in chat and comment functions on a screen.

Some people made virtual pilgrimages and attended Masses celebrated on other continents in real time. Others explored new ways of praying with Scripture or rediscovered old devotions that had slipped out of regular usage. While missing the Eucharistic table, many families rediscovered the value of the family meal at home. Despite the unusual and unforeseen circumstances, opportunities for prayer, fasting and almsgiving were abundant — and so many rose to the occasion.

As we enter this year’s season of renewal, the pandemic is still around, though more familiar, and the vaccine is reaching more people with its promise of an end to the pandemic in sight. Once again, we welcome catechumens, chosen to be reborn in Christ.

We come together, with careful physical distancing. We are able to look like a community again. Still, we long for the time when our elderly and those with health complications can join us again without fear.

What will our prayer, fasting and almsgiving look like this year?

Hopefully it will have a higher priority for many of us. With a newfound recognition of our complete dependence on God for the gift of life, we might be paying more attention to God’s word and God’s activity in our lives right now. Having had many variations to our eating habits over the past year, perhaps we will indeed be mindful of so many who suffer from malnutrition and hunger in our own nation and around the world. The discipline of curbing our wants and desires and letting our sacrifices provide for the well-being of others may make our almsgiving, our charity, more fruitful than ever.
Lent comes from an old word meaning springtime. We are longing for spring in many senses. Our tradition teaches us that new life and growth require discipline, which is not always easy.

In Lent, we recall how Jesus, fully God and fully human, allowed himself to be tempted in the desert and experienced the fast that we only modestly imitate. He, like us, learned to communicate with his Heavenly Father, and he spent a life exercising charity as love in action: healing, freeing, feeding, encouraging, comforting, uplifting those in need. We can modestly imitate that as well, and grow immensely.

We look forward to celebrating new life. We look forward to the construction of a new order of right relationships. We look forward to living more consciously the fraternal bonds that sustain us. We look forward to celebrating the self-emptying and sacrificial love that Jesus has for us and learning how to do likewise. We look forward to resurrection and victory over sin and death. May our Lenten journey this year help to make us more like Christ, so that we can share forever in his new life.