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THE NEW LENT
Days of Joy and Ashes

by Henry Fehren

Ave Maria Press • Notre Dame, Indiana 46556



About the Author

Father Henry Fehren, a Minnesota pastor, is the author

of Christ Now and God Spoke One Word
,
published by

P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.

NIHIL OBSTAT:

John L. Reedy, G.S.G.

Censor Deputatus

IMPRIMATUR:

^ Most Rev. Leo A. Pursley, D.D.
Bishop of Fort Wayne-South Bend

Copyright 1968 Ave Maria Press

All rights reserved . This book may not be reproduced

by any means in whole or in part without prior permission.

DessfSffed



HOORAY, LENT IS HERE!

The Church has put herself on the spot.

She has opened herself wide. She is open for inspec-

tion. We can freely examine her and talk about her. We
can dissect her, demand answers from her.

The Church has given each Christian more freedom,

more responsibility. There are more situations in which

we must make up our mind. No longer is every decision

made from above, no longer is every detail of moral

judgment and worship imposed on us by the Vatican.

It is a chancy business, giving us more freedom. It

is like a parent allowing an adolescent to take the car

for an evening date for the first time. Or letting him

remain away from home overnight for the first time.

The parents are a little worried about how the one emerg-

ing from childhood will use his new freedom. “We’re

taking a chance,” they say. “He’s on his own.” Yet the

person cannot mature and learn to make sound judg-

ments unless he has experience in doing so.

God was the first one to take a chance. He took a

chance in creating man, man made to God’s image and
likeness, with an intellect and a free will. Independent

man, man who had to make free choices, free man. Man
free to choose God and happiness or to choose his own

destruction.

That Adolescent Age

Some say the present age is the adolescence of the

Church. An adolescent, as he becomes aware of himself,
of who he is, of what he is, begins to question things. He
is somewhat skeptical. He wants to know \ytyit every-

3



thing means. He must know, because now he must make

the decisions, he must decide what to do. And he can’t

decide what to do unless he knows what he is doing,

unless he knows what his actions are for, what they lead

to. He examines everything.

The post-Council Christian is examining the Church.

The change in forms of liturgical worship is forcing him

to wonder what the ritual means. He is surveying the

ceremonies, saying, “What am I doing here?” It is a
heady experience for most Christians. And some are

fearful and worried.

Some think the Church has put herself in a danger-

ous position, with all this freedom. Some, without great

faith it seems, wonder whether she will survive. The

props seem to be gone. In matters of morals, for instance,

the rigid, undeviating rules are gone, rules sometimes

observed without regard to the human condition. Some

think that if it were not a “mortal” sin to miss Mass on

Sundays Catholics would gradually stop going; then, of

course, the collections would drop off. Without material

support, they think, the organized Church would peter

out.

Do We Still Need Lent?

In many countries Friday abstinence is out, at least

by law. The obligatory fast of Lent has also been abol-

ished. Christians must make their own decisions about

fasting. But another Lent is upon us, and with our in-

clination to reexamine Church practices today the faith-

ful want to know what Lent is all about.

Do we still need Lent? Is it useful to modern man?
Should Lent be abolished also? Do the traditional Lent-

en works of prayer, fasting and almsgiving fit contem-

4



porary life? What is the spirit of Lent? What should

we do during Lent?

Has the Church, because of our new freedom, left

us to shift for ourselves? Has she left us without guides?

I have read that in Northern states when a blizzard

was forecast farmers would string a rope from house to

barn. If visibility became zero during the storm a farmer

could use the rope as a guide. In these days when new

ideas and multitudinous opinions swirl around us, almost

blinding our vision, we do have a guide. As God of old

spoke to the Israelites, He still speaks to us— “Hear,
my people, and I will speak” (Ps. 49:1).

“God, who in diverse ways spoke in times past to the

fathers by the prophets,” says St. Paul, “last of all, in

these days, has spoken to us by his son” (Heb. 1:1-2).

God still speaks to us through the Church, the Body of

His Son. Vatican Council II, the authentic voice of Christ,

gives us, in its Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, the

purpose of Lent and the twofold spirit of Lent.

We observe Lent because in recalling the mysteries
of redemption “the Lord’s powers and mercies are made

present and the faithful are enabled to lay hold of them

and become filled with saving grace” (V, 102).

Days of Joy and Ashes

The Constitution proceeds to give us the twofold

character of Lent: “(1) It recalls Baptism or prepares

for it: (2) it stresses a penitential spirit.” In other words:

the wine of baptismal joy and the ashes of penitence.

Wine has long been a symbol of joy. Psalm 103, a hymn
to God the creator, speaks of “wine to gladden the heart
of man.” Without the recalling or anticipation of bap-

tismal joy Lent would be a dreaded and gloomy time.

5



The wearing of violet and the suppression of the Alle-

luia remind us that this is a serious time, but serious-

ness does not exclude joy. We are joyful because Bap-
tism is a great act of salvation, Baptism is our sealing a

covenant with a loving and faithful God.

Nor does the second aspect of Lent, the spirit of

penitence, exclude joy. For it is a joyful experience to

be reconciled to the Father, to return home again, humbly

to realize and regret our wrongdoing. Penitence is a

joy because it is a grace, because we know that it is God

who calls us to this conversion to Him. There is joy in

penitence because God creates in us a new heart (Ps.

50:22). John the Baptist gave a ritual baptism as a sign

of this conversion; the actual Baptism of the New Law,
celebrated at Easter, is the complete acceptance in faith

of God.

Penitence involves penance, and we are free to choose

the means best suited to our own condition. “The Church

invites all Christians without distinction,” writes Pope

Paul VI in his Constitution on the Practice of Penance

,

“to respond to the divine precept of penitence by some

voluntary act, apart from the renunciation imposed by

the burdens of everyday life.”

So we freely accept the ashes, symbol of death to

self, on Ash Wednesday. The fact that we voluntarily

do this penance, guided by but not forced by the Church,

is a sign of strength. We accept the ashes of penance
with a glad countenance, for Christ says, “When you

fast, don’t go around looking dismal” (Matt. 6:16). If

there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, there

certainly ought to be joy in the repentant sinner himself.

6



WHY NOT THIRTY-NINE?

Pick a number.

That’s what people of biblical days did. They chose

the number 40. Scripture writers often used the number

of 40 days or years when they wished to indicate a period

of purification or of preparation before some important

phase of God’s plan for His people. The story of Noah,

for instance, has the rain fall upon the earth for 40 days

and 40 nights. The “corrupt” earth is purified by the

flood, and God makes a covenant with Noah and his

descendants.

The Israelites need 40 years in the wilderness before

they are formed into the people of God. Their hardships,

temptations and sufferings formed them into a sacred

people. At the end of this time God again keeps His

covenant with them, giving them the promised land flow-

ing with milk and honey. “And the people of Israel ate

the manna 40 years until they came to a habitable land

”

(Ex. 16:35).

Anybody Else for Forty?

Moses himself “was on the mountain 40 days and 40

nights” (Ex. 24:15-18). He tells the Israelites, “When

I went up the mountain to receive the tables of the

covenant which the Lord made with you I remained on

the mountain 40 days and 40 nights: I neither ate bread

nor drank water” (Deut. 9:8-18). Because he found the

people in sin he again fasts 40 days and 40 nights, and

God listens to him. “The glory of the Lord” appeared

on the top of the mountain.

The prophet Elijah also goes “into the wilderness”

abandoning himself entirely to God. He is fed by “an

7



angel of the Lord,” and “went on the strength of that

food 40 days and 40 nights to Horeb, the mount of God.”

The whole city of Nineveh fasts for 40 days, in the Jonah

story, and is saved. Christ Himself fasts for 40 days and

nights in preparation for His mission (Matt. 4:2).

Basic Human Need

The number, of course, is not important. What is

important is that there was a set period of time “in

the wilderness” for fasting and prayer in preparation

for meeting God. During Lent we are formed more per-

fectly into the sacred people of God, we come to the holy

mountain where God is present, we are purified of evil,

we are saved from our own destruction, we are strength-

ened against the temptation to accept anything less than

God.

In the first centuries of the Church, as a matter of

fact, the pre-Easter period was not 40 days. At first

there was only a few days’ preparation for the solemniza-

tion of the Resurrection; then it lengthened to a week,

and finally by the fourth century 40 days was the

standard.

Our observance of Lent, then, no matter what the

exact number of days, has its basis in thousands of

years of human history. Modern man, no matter how

technological his society or how secular his city, will

always need a special preparation for great spiritual

events, for renewing his covenant with God, for meeting

God and sharing in God’s glory.

“Go Into the Desert"

The traditional works of Lent — prayer, fasting, and
almsgiving — may take new forms varied according to
8



a man’s circumstances and culture, but they will always

be observed in some form. Man needs to “go into the

desert” for silence, for meditation, to face himself and

to face God. “The wilderness has a necessary function

in life,” wrote Father Alfred Delp from a Nazi prison.

“It is a great place for thinking things out, for recogniz-

ing facts, for getting new light on problems and reaching

decisions. It is the quiet corner reserved for tears,

prayers for help, humiliation, terror. But it is part of

life.”

Fasting of some type will always be necessary, for

it is the effort of man to live according to his nature,

to recognize his nobility as a child of God, man made

to the image and likeness of God. Almsgiving is the

giving of self according to the needs of others.

Jesus “taking aside the Twelve” tells them, “Now we
are going up to Jerusalem” where “they will put to death

the son of man and on the third day he will rise again”
(Luke 18:31-33). The Church takes us aside during Lent

and invites us to make this journey with Christ. It will

lead to a death for us but also to a glorious resurrection,

to ashes and then to drinking new wine in the kingdom

(Matt. 26:29).

TURN AROUND

Until recent times a person who joined the Catholic
Church was called a “convert.” Because of post-Council

ecumenical sensitivity it is a term we generally avoid
now. But it is a term which should be applied to every

Christian during Lent. For Lent is a time of conversion.

A convert is one who “turns.” Lent is a time for each
Christian to turn back to God. Not that all Christians
have turned completely away from God, but every sinful

9



act is to some extent a turning away from God.

In Lent we want to turn every part of us to God —
Pope Paul says that there should be an “intimate and

total change and renewal of the entire man — of all his
opinions, judgments and decisions.” The spirit of peni-

tence which the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy says

is a characteristic of Lent is a spirit of conversion, a

change of heart. The popular term for this complete

turning away from evil and to God is a Greek word,

metanoia.

There, now you’ve learned a new Greek word to

spring on your friends.

But it is much more difficult to let your friends see

that you, though long a Christian, are being converted

again. For it implies an utterly complete turning to

God, a turning that must be in the depths of one’s heart

and which must be expressed externally and socially also.

Aye, There’s the Rub

In both the Old and New Testaments God again and
again makes the invitation to conversion. Through the

prophet Isaiah, God invited: “Wash yourselves, make

yourselves clean; cease to do evil, learn to do good”

(Isa. 1:16-17). We read in the prophecy of Joel: “Yet
even now,” says the Lord, “return to me with all your
heart, with fasting, with weeping and with mourning;

and rend your hearts and not your garments. Return

to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Joel

2:12-13).

John the Baptist in calling the people to “repent” is

issuing a call for a return to the observance of God’s

covenant. Christ follows him and on His own divine

10



authority calls for repentance for “the kingdom of God

is at hand” (Mark 1:14). Paul and Barnabas continue

the tradition when preaching at Lystra, “Turn from vain

things to a living God” (Acts 14:15). Every Lent is a

fresh cry of the prophets, Christ, the Apostles, the

Church, to conversion.

Beware the Pharisee

Jesus in telling the well-known story of the pharisee

and the publican and in forgiving the sinful woman be-

cause “she loved much” is affirming that this conversion

must be interior. Christ railed against the religious

hypocrisy of His day, as did John the Baptist. “Hypo-

crites” was in the vocabulary of both of them. Even

today this is one of the charges most frequently made

against people professing the Christian religion. Ex-

amples are an English theologian leaving the Church,

charging its “concern for authority at the expense of

truth.” And an American canon lawyer and columnist

says in a talk to seminarians, “We seem to have de-

veloped an attitude of pious hypocrisy, which is strongly

encouraged from on high, if not positively commanded.”

A Lent of merely external penitential actions would
not be a true conversion of heart. One reason the Church

has relaxed the former rigid rules of fasting during Lent

is her wish that we not think our piety is validated

by mere external observances. It is easier to fast than

to love a troublesome neighbor. Lent calls for a true

renewal of heart.

We often are hypocritical because our faith is weak.
Jesus links our repentance with faith, “Repent, and be-

lieve in the gospel” (Mark 14:15). The Gospel is the good

news, but sometimes we think it is too good to be true.

11



True turning to God must at the same time be a turning

to man, for “what you have done for these the least of

my brethren you have done for me.” Paul’s change of
life after his experience on the road to Damascus is a

dramatic example of what happens in conversion.

Our penitence, our turning to God, is interior, but not

merely private. It happens in the community and has

its effects on our fellowman.

PRAY AS YOU GO

“And now for your penance say five Our Fathers.”

Many a Catholic has heard this or something similar

at the end of his confession of sins.

And many penitents have wondered why, if prayer

was a good thing, it was a “penance.” Also, we think

of Lent as a time of penance, and know that prayer is

one of the three traditional works of Lent. The difficulty

is that we probably have thought of penance as punish-

ment instead of repentance, penitence, or satisfaction.

The “penance” of Lent is a healthful thing, done in joy.

The “penance” of the sacrament of confession, if it means

the repetition of a few prayer formulas, is seldom satisfy-

ing as a satisfaction to God. We usually forget that we
are to make reparation or satisfaction also to man whom
we have offended.

Anyhow, Jesus Christ made abundant satisfaction for

all sinners by His death. So why should we do penance,
why should we pray? First of all, forget about prayer

as a punishment — it is not. (We’ll pray in heaven,
also, e.g. — Rev. 19:1-8). Lent is a time of penitence,
of conversion, of turning to God. Having turned to God,

we have a change of heart, we accept God’s will to love.

This response, made explicit, is prayer. It is a wonderful

12



experience. Lent naturally is a time, then, of more time

spent in prayer, of more intense prayer, of prayer both

private and public expressed and experienced more

perfectly.

Stop Running, Be Still

Lent is a time to stop running, running away from

God and away from ourselves. If we turn to God we will

see ourselves more clearly. To do this we must figura-

tively go into the desert, into the wilderness. We must
have silence at least in our souls. We read of many
biblical figures going off alone to pray. Christ Himself

“in the morning rose and went out to a lonely place, and

there he prayed” (Mark 1:35). Luke tells us that Christ

“withdrew to the wilderness and prayed” (Luke 1:16).

Before His passion He prays alone in the garden. Before

choosing His Apostles “He went out into the hills to

pray; and all night he continued in prayer” (Luke 6:12).

These are noisy times, but we must find time for

recollection in Lent, time to put ourselves in the presence

of God, time to commune with God. Even when we pray

in a group, we need withdrawal from distractions. Christ

“took with him Peter, and John and James, and went

up on the mountain to pray

”

(Luke 9:28).

During this prayer Christ is transfigured, appears

resplendent, and the Apostles see Christ in glory. This

is what prayer is meant to lead to. Lenten prayer clears

our vision, lets us see God more truly, and leads us to

share in the glory of Christ’s resurrection at Easter.

It’s Baptismal and Liturgical

Lent, as the Constitution on the Liturgy points out,

has a baptismal character, recalling or preparing for

13



Baptism. Easter, of course, is a celebration of Baptism.

Baptism is the beginning of God’s beauty and splendor

in us. Prayer, then, is necessarily a traditional work of

Lent, for it leads to closer union with God. When Jesus
at His baptism was praying, “the heaven was opened,

and the Holy Spirit descended upon him” (Luke 3:21-22).

In Lent we are guided in our prayer by the liturgy.

The prayers and readings of the Lenten Masses and

Divine Office lead us to the most fitting praises and

petitions, to sentiments of repentance. In the liturgy,

since we pray with Christ, the whole Church, the angels

and saints, we know that our praises are effective, theo-

logically sound, and in accord with the Faith. Anyone

who cannot take part in daily Mass should use his missal,

with its different texts for each day of Lent, for prayer

and meditation.

Aids to Prayer

People finding difficulty with prayer will find that if

they do spiritual reading, slowly, from the Mass texts

of the day, from Holy Scripture, or the best spiritual

writers, they will be led more easily into prayer. Another

help is to pray the psalms, those timeless but neglected

prayers of the faithful of the Old Testament, of Christ,

Mary, the Apostles, and the saints. The psalms are

always personal but never really “private,” for when an

Israelite prayed them he prayed as a member of the

people of God, he knew that it was always Israel who was

singing praise. When a Christian prays them today he

finds himself, since he is praying with Christ and the

Church, elevated beyond his mere personal anxieties.

“If one member suffers, all suffer together”— (I Cor. 26)
— if one member prays, all pray together.
14



In the Lenten liturgy, we are one with the community

of Christ. More alert attention and participation will

result in “a new heart and a new spirit” (Ezek. 18:31).

BLOW THE TRUMPET, PROCLAIM A FAST

Is your face red?

It ought to be red with “shamefaced embarrassment,”

according to one Catholic editor. For millions of Amer-

ican Catholics “declining in the swamp of prosperous

indolence” are allowed to eat meat on Friday. The

American bishops have lifted the rule of Friday absti-

nence, except during Lent. In Poland, however, it is still

a mortal sin to eat meat on Friday. Which indicates,

according to the editor, that we are lacking “love of the

Saviour.” And the Polish decision brought “great joy . . .

in dank dungeon cells.”

The rest of the editorial is too silly to comment on,

but the editor perhaps reflects the fears of some Catholics

that the Church is deteriorating. He does not realize

that the removal by Church authorities of forced fasting

and abstinence is a sign of strength in the Church. We
are now considered mature enough and spiritually strong

enough to determine the means of penitence best suited

to each one of us. Too long we have been hung up on

Friday abstinence as a mark of a good practicing

Catholic.

The American bishops point out that abstinence from

meat is not always the most effective means of penance

for each person. As an example: In my rectory we still
usually abstain on Friday, but one Friday, recently, a

group of unexpected visitors came in. I live in an isolated

15



area, no grocery store, no cafe. Charity demanded that

we feed the visitors. We had no food on hand except
three eggs and several pounds of venison sausage. I told

the housekeeper to serve the sausage.

Her face went white.

In 65 years she had never eaten meat on Friday.

She balked. Luckily two of the visitors were priests; on

their say-so (you know about a prophet in his own land)

she served the meat. It would have been a sin not to

serve them the meat on this Friday.

What the “Signs” Say

Pope Paul in his Constitution on the Practice of

Penance writes that Christ invites us and the Church

invites us to conversion and penitence, and that “the

Church, always attentive to the signs of the times, seeks,

beyond fast and abstinence, new expressions more suit-

able for the realization of the precise goal of penitence

according to the character of various epochs.” The

American bishops tell us to bind ourselves freely to self-

denial, penitential prayer and fasting.

Fasting was and is practiced in other religions also,

but our tradition of fasting goes far back into the Old

Testament. For the Hebrews fasting was more a sign

of sorrow and of repentance, less the strictly ascetic

practice it has become for us. During the daylight hours

the fast was complete but it usually was restricted to one

day. Samuel, for instance, tells the Israelites, “If you are

returning to the Lord with all your heart . . . direct your

heart to the Lord.” “And they fasted on that day,” the

account continues, “and said there, ‘We have sinned

against the Lord’” (I Kings 7:3-12).

16



“Return . . . With Your Whole Heart”

The prophet Joel, whose announcement the Church

appropriately uses on Ash Wednesday, emphasizes fasting

as a community exercise: “Blow the trumpet, proclaim

a fast, call an assembly, notify the congregation, assemble

the elders, gather the children.” The fast is to be a sign

of conversion, “Return to me with your whole heart, with

fasting . . . rend your hearts, not your garments, and

return to the Lord” (Joel 2:12-17).

Christ, in insisting that fasting be not hypocritical,

not for public display (Matt. 6:16), affirms the cautions

of the Old Testament prophets. “On your fastday,” says

Isaiah, “you carry out your own pursuits, your fast ends

in quarreling and fighting.” To “lie in sackcloth and

ashes,” yet lack charity and justice is utterly useless.

“This rather is the fasting I wish: releasing those bound

unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; setting free the

oppressed, breaking every yoke, sharing your bread with

the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless;

clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning

back on your own” (Isa. 58:1-10).

The Bishops Agree

This is precisely what the American bishops empha-

sized when alleviating the Friday abstinence: “Let us

witness to our love and imitation of Christ, by special

solicitude for the sick, the poor, the underprivileged, the

imprisoned, the bedridden, the discouraged, the stranger,

the lonely, and persons of other color, nationalities or

background than your own.” The bishops add that Our

Lord speaks of these works of mercy in describing the

Last Judgment and that His words “should be heeded

with double care during Lent.”

17



These may seem like long quotes, but they are so
beautiful they bear repetition. I hope readers will re-

read these words of Scripture and the bishops and use

them as a guide for Lent, for they help us choose acts of

penitence for Lent which are beneficial to ourselves and

others, which reflect the spirit of Christ, which save us

from sanctimonious, Pharisaic, self-deceiving observances.

These words give us the true spirit of Lent, which is

an inseparable combination of prayer, fasting and alms-

giving. These words prove that the Church is not coming

apart at the seams in these developments, but is carrying

on its authentic traditions in their true sense.

The fast of Lent prepares us for the glory of Easter.

If we keep this fast in the proper spirit, the prophet

Isaiah assures us, “then your light shall break forth like

the dawn, and your wound shall be heeded quickly, and

the glory of the Lord shall be with you” (Isa. 58:8).

QUALMS ABOUT ALMS

“Who gives himself with his alms feeds three—
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.”

That may not be avant-garde poetry (it rhymes), but
it sums up the third of the three traditional works of

Lent, almsgiving. These verses of James Russell Lowell’s

The Vision of Sir Launfal express in two lines what a

pontifical document could not do in ten thousand.

The custom of almsgiving reaches far back into the

Old Testament. If there is a poor man among you, says
the Mosaic law, “give to him freely, and your heart shall

not be grudging when you give to him . . . open wide your

hand to the needy and to the poor” (Deut. 15:10-11).

Tobit urges his son to set aside part of his goods for

18



almsgiving, telling him that even if his possessions be

few he should give according to the little he has — “for
charity delivers from death and keeps you from enter-

ing the darkness; and for all who practice it charity is

an excellent offering in the presence of the Most High”

(Tob. 4:10). “Give of your bread to the hungry and of

your clothing to the naked,” he counsels his son, “and

do not let your eye begrudge the gift when you make it”

(4:16). The old Tobit, the story points out, practiced

what he preached.

Proper Spirit of Giving

Here as elsewhere in Old Testament texts the empha-

sis is on the proper spirit of almsgiving. Almsgiving then

as now is a means for atoning for sins: “Water extin-

guishes a blazing fire; so almsgiving atones for sin” (Sir.

3:30). Prayer, fasting and almsgiving cannot be sepa-

rated, for one who prays well, who meditates on the Word

of God and speaks to Him, will soon find himself fasting.

If his fasting is the result of his praying, he will be giving

to the poor whatever he saves by fasting.

“The fast that I choose ... is to share your bread

with the hungry” (Isa. 58:7). The pope and the Ameri-

can bishops, as I mentioned earlier, when they lifted the

laws of fast and abstinence mention the many forms of

almsgiving which even now more generously should be

carried on. Almsgiving, according to St. Ambrose, is

even better than fasting, and “fasting without almsgiving

is like a lamp without oil.” St. Leo agrees with him: “Let

the abstinence of the faithful become the food of the poor.

Fasting without almsgiving is an affliction of the flesh

rather than a purging of the soul.”

19



Not Just Money

Almsgiving is not just the giving of money, it is the

giving of oneself. That is why the almsgiving of the
pharisee is useless; he does it only for show, not out of

love. In fact, Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt.

6:2-18) links together these three works of prayer, fast-

ing and almsgiving, and in speaking of each one He re-

peats the warning not to imitate the hypocrites who pray,

fast and give alms in order to be noticed and praised by

other men.

In our parish we publish a list of parishioners with the

financial report, but we do not list individual donations.

Only each parishioner knows what he has given. Nor do

we put the name of the donor on any windows, chalices,

or other donated furnishings. In one new church I visited,

nearly every stick of furniture in the building is labeled

with the name of the donor. Not only does the left hand

know what the right is doing (Matt. 6:3), but the whole

parish does. There are various ways today of sounding

the trumpet before us as we give alms (Matt. 6:2)

.

It All Comes Back to Love

We say that people hate being an object of charity,
yet we also say that all people want love. This seeming

contradiction results from the lack of love in an act of

“charity,” and makes charity a dirty word. Charity be-

comes distasteful to the recipient when it appears that

the favored is giving to the disfavored, when there is any

air of superiority in the giver, when the giver conde-

scends to give.

“The gift without the giver is bare,” so the receiver

must sense the genuine love in the heart of the almsgiver;

the almsgiver must realize that the receiver is doing the

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almsgiver a favor in accepting the gift, for the almsgiver

is needy in that he needs to give. The receiver allows the

giver to do an act of mercy, to do an act of Christ, and

thus assure his salvation.

The giver must give the “alms” that the needy one is

in want of, not give whatever he happens to want to give.

If we are sensitive to the needs of others we will see that

there are many different kinds of alms. The needy one

may merely want my attention, my time, my sympathy,
my help in some form. Sometimes we piously give people
what we think they should have, rather than give them

that which truly satisfies their needs.

In Christian almsgiving both parties benefit. One who

gives out of love receives in that very act more than he

gives. In Christian almsgiving God is “fed” in the one

receiving the alms; the one receiving the alms is bene-

fited; and the giver lives up to his divine destiny. Thus

Christ truly says: “Who gives himself with his alms feeds

three— himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.”

LOVE, BABY, LOVE

Four men die in Holy Week.

One is innocent, three are guilty. One does not need

repentance, but he accepts the guilt of the human race.

Two do repent, one does not repent. Three die by decree,
one takes his own life. One is love, one accepts love, one

finds himself unworthy of love, one has no notion of love.

Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, is innocent, yet He as-
sumes the guilt of all. He could have given us alms of
all the material goods in the world, and we would never
have been convinced of His love. He could only convince
us of His love by giving His very self on the Cross. There

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really was no other way to convince skeptical mankind

of the importance of love, that we are saved by love.

Like Satan He could have taken us to a high mountain

and promised us all the kingdoms of the world— but then
that is all we would have, an earthly kingdom. Christ

tried to teach His Apostles about love, but to the very

time of the crucifixion they did not understand His death

and why it had to be. He spoke of love at the Last Sup-
per, but the Apostles argued about who among them was

the most important. He had to show by the Cross the

meaning of love.

But first He promises them a new kingdom, “Now I

confer a kingdom on you, just as my Father conferred
one on me. You will eat and drink at my table in my
kingdom” (Luke 22:28-30). Beautiful words, but only

later do the Apostles understand them.

Judas and the Thieves

The second of the four men to die in Holy Week is the

unrepentant thief. Even on the cross he taunts Christ.

He knows nothing about love, for even as the three pre-

pare to die he has no words of compassion or sympathy.

His type is still around. He is a sad figure, a primitive

being who has no idea of his dignity as a person made to

the image and likeness of God and destined for love.

Judas is the third man of whom we are speaking. He
had some experience of love in his association with

Christ. But greed was stronger than his own weak love

and faith. When he sees that love is incompatible with
greed, he wants to undo his betrayal of love. He thinks

it is too late, for he does not understand divine love; he

believes himself unworthy of love, he has not understood

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the parable of the prodigal son — he despairs, he hangs
himself.

Number four is the “good thief,” or perhaps we should

say, “the thief now become good.” He is so close to our

condition that we had better pay some attention to him

during Holy Week. He admits his sins, he shows sympa-

thy to Christ, he has faith in Him. “Have you no fear of

God at all?” he asks the other thief, who is abusing

Christ, “You got the same sentence as he did, but in our

case we deserve it; we are paying for what we did. But

this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he turns to

Christ and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come
into your kingdom.” It is a very touching scene, a re-

pentant sinner admits his guilt and calls Jesus by name.

It is a beautiful act of faith and love.

Jesus, showing the love which brought Him to the
Cross, says to the thief, as He says to all of us, “Indeed,

I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise”
(Luke 23:39-43). During Lent we show our repentance

by prayer, fasting and almsgiving. The foretaste of that

banquet in the kingdom is in every Mass, memorial of the

Last Supper. The Last Supper itself was a memorial of

the Passover, of the angel of death passing over the

homes of the Israelites marked with the blood of the

lamb.

Renewal of the Covenant

The Last Supper meal renewed the covenant between

God and men. Each Mass is a covenant meal, a mecil of

love, a meal which saves us from everlasting death. For

not to love is to die, not to love is to despair. Sin is bad

because it is the rejection of love, of God’s love. Sin can

only “hurt” God in the sense that it hurts ourselves —

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it hurts us because it defiles our beauty as images of God,

because it despoils the best of God’s creation, because we

settle for less than God wants to give us.

At the great Easter Vigil we will freely renew the

covenant that God has initiated with us when we renew

our baptismal vows. We will do this consciously, deliber-
ately, fully. It will be a joyful time and we will drink the

new wine with Christ in His kingdom now present. Buried

with Christ in the waters of Baptism, our rising with Him

at Easter is reality, not rhetoric.

We accept the invitation of Christ and the Church:

“Come, let us return to the Lord:

for he has torn, that he may heal us;
he has stricken, and he will bind us up.

After two days he will revive us;

on the third day he will raise us up,

that we may live before him.

Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord;

his going forth is sure as the dawn;

he will come to us as the showers,

as the spring rains that water the earth” (Hos. 6:1-4)

.

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