Daily Reflections for Lent
Used with permission of the Liturgical Press.
March 6: Saturday of the Second Week of Lent
The Morning after the Party
Readings: Mic 7:14-15, 18-20; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Scripture:
“The servant said to [the older brother], ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him.”
(Luke 15:27-28)
Reflection: So what about after the party?
What happened the next morning when the prodigal and his father and his still-seething brother faced one another during their first breakfast together in a long time?
Despite the joyous welcome home the day before, it must have been awkward, embarrassing, and tense. But forgiveness had been sought and given. It was a new beginning for this broken family.
That's important to understand. Forgiveness is not an end in itself; “I'm sorry” is not a quick fix; offering and accepting an apology doesn't automatically make everything all right.
Sadly, forgiveness doesn't “forget.” Forgiveness is that difficult first step on the long journey to reconciliation; forgiveness is the first balm in what can be a long, painful process of healing.
Reconciliation cannot begin until the prodigal humbles himself to admit the hurt he has caused and takes responsibility for what he has done.
Reconciliation is only possible because the father's loving, generous spirit enables him to let go of his hurt to welcome the prodigal home.
Reconciliation can only take place when the older brother makes room in his own heart for his brother to come home.
Then begins the hard work of restoring trust, of rebuilding the broken relationship, of repairing the damage that has been done.
The day before, the angry brother said to his father, “So your son is home. And that's it?”
Not by a long shot.
Meditation: What do you find is the most difficult part of forgiving another person or asking another for forgiveness?
Prayer: Father, help us to take on the hard work of forgiveness. May we imitate your own unconditional and limitless love by seeking to restore trust and mend the hurts that we have caused others and that others have inflicted on us. Help us to let go of our needs to justify our self-centeredness and demands for restitution and vengeance so that we may begin the work of restoring your gift of peace and unity among us.
March 7: Third Sunday of Lent
I Love You. You're Under Arrest.
Readings: Exod 3:1-8a, 13-15; 1 Cor 10:1-6, 10-12; Luke 13:1-9.
The readings for Year A may be read in place of these.
Scripture:
“ ‘For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. 'Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down.'“ (Luke 13:7, 8-9)
Reflection: We all love our children and would do anything for them. But do you love your 50n or daughter enough to have him or her arrested?
Actor Martin Sheen does.
Sheen's son Charlie's hard-driving life was out of control. Interventions and rehab had not worked. In May 1998, Charlie was hospitalized from a drug overdose. That's when his dad took the radical and, in the end, successful step of turning him in.
Martin Sheen recalls:
“The only way I got Charlie, frankly, was because he'd skipped out of the hospital. I had to pay the bill. In paying the bill, I got to see why he was there. . It was the only way I got him.
“The critical part of the equation is: Are you willing to risk your child's wrath? They are not going to like you. Don't even think about them loving you. They're going to call you the most vicious, obscene names. You have to be prepared for that… [but] when a life is at stake and it's your child, you become fearless in a lot of ways.”
Charlie Sheen got help. In a later interview he thanked his father “for saving my life.”
Martin Sheen challenged his son to see the “root” of the issue: that we must be willing to accept the consequences of the choices we make. We may get away with it for a while, but eventually we have to confront who we are and what we really believe. Unless that kind of conversion takes place, we become like the barren fig tree: rootless, lifeless, giving nothing to others. The good news of the gospel fig tree is that, in taking responsibility for our actions and seeking to heal the hurt we have inflicted, we can again realize a harvest from our life's struggling fig trees.
Meditation: What is the most difficult reality you struggle to accept in your own life-and how can you readjust your thinking to better deal with it?
Prayer: God of new beginnings, you are the ever-patient gardener who nurtures our cracking and dried branches in the water of your love and the food of your compassion. Bind up our broken spirits in your grace and hope; nourish us by your grace and sustain us in your love that we may realize the harvest of your justice and peace in our lives.
March 8: Monday of the Third Week of Lent
The “Commitment” Move
Readings: 2 Kgs 5:1-15b; Luke 4:24-30
Scripture:
“[N]o prophet is accepted in his own native place.”
(Luke 4:24)
Reflection: In rock climbing, it's called the “commitment move.” It's the moment when you step off the secure rock ledge or crag you are standing on in order to move a little higher. Even though you’re secured by ropes, it's a scary step. You must place your trust in what you're tied to rather than what you're standing on; you must “commit” to the unknown and unfamiliar if you are to continue your ascent.
Today's gospel offers the same kind of challenge: The God that we are connected to - by the Spirit of God, by sacrament, by prayer - is so much greater than the earth and the things of earth we stand on. The authentic prophet, the faithful disciple, realizes that trusting in God over the things of the world is the necessary and surer step. Jesus' gospel of justice and compassion demands our risking ridicule and cynicism if we are to realize the reign of God in our own time and place. The God who is our lifeline can help us conquer whatever mountains stand in our way and scale whatever chasms threaten our safety. All we have to do is trust enough to make the “commitment move.”
Meditation: Is there a “next step” you should take in bridging an estranged relationship or correcting a difficult situation that you are hesitant to “commit” to?
Prayer: God our Redeemer, through baptism we have tied ourselves to you. By your grace, may we have the wisdom and courage to climb your holy mountain. Trusting in your word, may we dare to walk the difficult trail of justice and forgiveness so that we may one day make our way to the place where you dwell forever.
March 9: Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent
For the Love of God, Let Go!
Readings: Dan 3:25, 34-43; Matt 18:21-35
Scripture:
“So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.”
(Matt 18:35)
Reflection: When you're overcome with anger or resentment at someone, try this exercise: Write down the resentment on a slip of paper. Then make a fist around it and hold it as tightly as you can. Don't let up the pressure. See how long you can hold on to the slip with that intensity. Now try to carryon your day with the paper tightly held in your grip.
After a while, as you can imagine, your fingers will start to ache, your hand will feel paralyzed. With all of your attention and energy focused on maintaining your grip, you'll be distracted from other things you are trying to accomplish.
You'll be unable to reach out and touch and feel because your hands are struggling to keep its grasp on this wad of paper.
A silly exercise? Sure. But that is exactly what we allow our spirits and hearts to experience when we let resentments fester, when we let our anger get the best of us, when we steadfastly refuse to forgive or seek forgiveness for whatever wrongs, real or imagined, we have endured or inflicted. Forgiveness is neither easy nor cheap; but forgiveness is the very heart of the Gospel of Jesus-the foundation of the bridges we seek to build to one another, the first brick we pull out of the walls that divide us.
Meditation: Is there some anger or resentment in your life that you struggle to let go of?
Prayer: Loving Father, help us to let go of our angers and resentments, our embarrassments and guilt, and take the first step in repairing our brokenness with others and with you. Help us to transform the dark cold of our winters into the light and warmth of Easter by seeking forgiveness and reconciliation with all who hurt us and whom we have hurt. May your spirit of compassion and forgiveness illuminate our days with your love and peace.
March 10: Wednesday of the Third Week of Lent
The Road
Readings: Deut 4:1, 5-9; Mall 5:17-19
Scripture:
“… whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.”
(Mall 5:19)
Reflection: Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Road is the dark, compelling story of a father and son fighting for survival in the midst of nuclear winter. America has been reduced to ashes. Millions have been killed; cities and countrysides have been destroyed. The few people who survived have banded into packs of marauders robbing and killing for food. A man and his son who managed to survive are making their way from the eternal winter in the north to the southern coast where, they hope, they will find warmth and some chance of building a life. The boy, who was born after the war, has no memory of the better, happier times his father has known.
Every day of their trek, the father keeps reminding the son that they are the “good guys” who carry the “fire.” The boy is never quite sure what the fire is-but he believes in the fire because his father has told him to, and that's good enough for him. Throughout their journey, the boy displays compassion for everyone they encounter-even those who try to kill them for their meager provisions. Along the dark, gray Road, father and son confront starvation, cold, sickness, horror, and death. With the end of their trek in sight, when his father finally succumbs to illness and exhaustion, the boy must take to the Road himself, and he begins to understand what the fire is: his father's uncompromising, unconditional love for his son that enabled him to survive.
“Do everything the way we did,” his father tells his son, and remember that the fire “is inside you. It was always there. I can see it.”
The boy continues on the Road with that hope.
Christ calls us, in today's gospel, to pass on the fire-the love of God for all his sons and daughters, the hope of transforming the darkness and bitterness of our world into the kingdom of God, the peace that enables all men and women to live as brothers and sisters in God's Christ. By our commitment to what is right, by our compassion and caring for others, by our ethical and moral convictions, by our sense of awareness and gratitude for all that God has done for us, we do the great work of passing on the fire of the Gospel of compassion and justice.
Meditation: In what ways have you discovered the fire of God's love that enabled you to make your way through a difficulty or challenge you encountered in your own journey along the road?
Prayer: Lord Jesus, inspire us with the fire of your love so that we may, in turn, pass on that fire to others. Bless our efforts to reflect the light and warmth of that fire in our homes and workplaces, our classrooms and playgrounds.
March 11: Thursday of the Third Week of Lent
How Wars Really Start
Readings: Jer 7:23-28; Luke 11:14-23
Scripture:
“Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste and house will fall against house.” (Luke 11:17)
Reflection: A nine-year-old asks his father, “Dad, how do wars start?”
“Well, son,” his father began, “take ·World War I. That war started when Germany invaded Belgium…”
“Just a minute,” his wife interrupted. “It began when Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria was assassinated by a Serbian nationalist.”
“Well, dear, that was the spark that ignited the fighting, but the political and economic factors leading to the war had been in place for some time.”
“Yes, I know, honey, but our son asked how the war began and every history book says that World War I began with the murder of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria.”
Drawing himself up with an air of superiority, the husband snapped, “Are you answering the question, or am I?”
The wife turned her back on him in a huff, stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
When the dishes stopped rattling, an uneasy silence followed.
The nine-year-old then broke the silence: “Dad, you don't have to say any more about how wars start. I understand now.”
Wars begin long before the first shot is fired; households collapse well before the first crack in the foundation; families fall apart days and months and years before the first slammed door. When our own needs come before the common good, when we cannot see or refuse to see things from the perspective of the other person, when the accumulation of wealth and the pursuit of status take the place of the things of God, “war” that destroys the family's unity, the circle of friendship, is inevitable.
Jesus calls us, his disciples of this time and place, to embrace his spirit of reconciliation that compels us to always take the first step in forgiving and being forgiven, his spirit of humility that finds joy in doing good for others, his spirit of compassion that places love before all.
Meditation: How can a change in your attitude or perspective begin to bring peace to a war you are waging in your life?
Prayer: May your love, O Lord, be the foundation of our homes and families; may your forgiveness be the walls that protect our loved ones from the winds and storms that threaten to drive us apart; may your peace be the roof that shields us from the rain and cold; may your compassion be the hearth that warms our hearts all our days.