Bishop James P. Lyke, OFM, has written this Ash Wednesday letter to the people of the archdiocese.

Dear Sisters and Brothers:

Only a few weeks ago, we were celebrating the wondrous mystery of God becoming human. Attendant on that mystery, we warmed to the glow of Mary’s selfless devotion, first to the incomprehensible will of the Father, and then to the helpless infant who would grow into the Redeemer-Man. Now, at the beginning of Lent, we turn our attention to the state of our souls, as we travel inexorably on towards the mysteries of Our Lord’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection which await us during Holy Week and Eastertime.

It is the tradition of the Church at this time to put special emphasis on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. “There are three things, my brethren, which cause faith to stand firm, devotion to remain constant, and virtue to endure. They are prayer, fasting and mercy. Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy and fasting: these three are one and they give life to each other.” (Peter Chrysologos) But these actions, if sincere, are actually the outward signs of a deeper spiritual ground – a fruitful ground which the Church encourages us to cultivate through the practices of Lent. It is that bare ground of the self, the desert of the unpretentious and childlike heart that we seek to reveal during this tie of penance and restraint.

“Even now,” says the Lord, “return to me with your whole heart.” Return to me with your whole heart. This is the message of Joel to the servants of the first covenant, and it is the same message, transformed by the Incarnation, which we take as our theme for Lent. Return to the Lord with your whole heart!

So that our return to the Lord may be real and visible, the Church seeks, through Lenten customs and observations to draw us away from the accustomed patterns of daily life. There is so much to distract us in our busy and disturbed life-styles, life-styles based on an unprecedented speed of communication and delivery. Ours is an age where contemplation is held in deep respect, not because it is desired, but because it is practiced by so few as to be rare and precious. We strive daily to integrate the hubbub of life with the tending of the soul. We wish to have a life that is spiritually intact and at the same time open to new experience.

This is exactly where the Church leads us during these 40 days. Like Christ, who travailed with His own spirit in the desert, we now are called to return to that bare and simple ground within the heart of each of us, that place where decisions are really debated and settled, that interior space which is the first part of us to recognize love and its irresistible power. Lent is our time to journey within, to take the ultimate counter-cultural plunge, into the meaning of life and the mystery of God.

The mysteries we are approaching during the 40-day season will summarize the meaning of the life and death of every Christian person – for every Christian person will walk the way of the Cross. Every Christian person will face the silence of the tomb, and will rise again in the promise of Christ’s new life. If we look forward to these events with newness of purpose and freshness of soul, our lives can only grow in the precious wisdom God imparts to His faithful. We can easily foster this newness through the sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist, which should be the central acts of our Lenten observance. During Lent, we listen to God’s voice, not with our ears and our every-day awareness, but with a heightened expectation, a fearful longing. If we are bold enough to practice penance during this time, then God will draw us more perfectly into the Body of Christ. We will conquer the exasperating and divisive voice of the crowd as we retire into the private oneness of His voice and the perfection of His love.

As far as our actions go, the wishes of Christ are specific and clear:

“When you give alms ...,” He says. He does not leave the decision up to us. He expects that we will give alms. The recognition of the dignity of the poor in this passage from Matthew is a fundamental part of Christ’s teaching, underlying His command that we are to live a life of love, giving generously of our surfeit to relieve the misery of others. Lent is the time to quietly, but forcefully alleviate the misfortune of our poor sisters and brothers. There are many ways to do this, but each of us is called to do his or her part. The weight of the scale of justice is ours to balance.

“When you pray,” He says, “do it in private.” Go to your room and shut the door. Speak to your Father in secret and your Father who knows all the secrets, will give you help. With these words, Christ does not reject liturgy, or the public witness by which we express to one another and to the world our belief in the True Faith. Rather, He wishes to encourage us to develop that innermost part of our souls, where the Holy Spirit is always waiting to carry us on the wings of charity, to heights of spiritual generosity and selfless increase.

“When you fast,” He continues, “don’t look glum.” Don’t appear miserable and discomfited by the whole thing. Don’t go without to impress other people, but do it for the love of God, as an act of intimate union. Do it to help reestablish the balance of the Divine Economy. Say to yourself, I will go without so that, by the all-seeing power of God, someone else will obtain what they need. This kind of penance goes straight to the heart of the Father, who loves self-sacrifice and who, as Joel tells us, will be “stirred to concern for His land,” and who will “take pity on His people.” Fast in order to hasten justice and to build compassion.

We face a double arena of demands if we undertake a serious Lenten journey. We must courageously explore the arena of the self, inspecting our motivations, weighing our decisions, sizing up the depth of our Gospel commitment. Fortified by this excursion into the inner person, we must emerge into the arena of human love, and encounter the needs of the poor which cry out from all directions, in every part of the globe. In the misery of the world God has given us a fertile field in which to undertake the cultivation of our own charitable dispositions.

We can’t let the chance slip by. This can’t be just one more Lent. One day, each of us will run out of Lents. That is why the cry of Paul, in a sense, is desperate. “We implore you,” he says, “in Christ’s name: be reconciled to God.” Not next Lent, not when it can be fitted into the schedule, not when you can relax, sit back, and quietly consider its meaning at leisure. Now is the moment, Paul warns. “Now is the acceptable time! Now is the day of salvation! As your fellow workers we beg you not to receive the grace of God in vain.”

My sisters and brothers, as we truly long for this grace, let us ask God’s blessing and pray:

Merciful God, you called us forth from the dust of the earth; you claimed us for Christ in the waters of baptism. Look upon us as we enter these 40 days bearing the mark of ashes, and bless our journey through the desert of Lent to the font of rebirth. May our fasting be hunger for justice; our alms, a making of peace; our prayer, the chant of humble and grateful hearts. All that we do and pray is in the name of Jesus, for in His cross you proclaim your love for ever and ever. Amen.

In the peace of Christ

Most Reverend James P. Lyke, O.F.M.

Apostolic Administrator, sede vacante