Together on the Journey: A Weekly Word from Archbishop Hebda
People returning from pilgrimages to Rome often ask me if I miss my time in the Eternal City. While I loved all 18 of the years that I lived there, I consider it a blessing that there’s actually very little that I miss. I have been thinking these days, however, about the Italian version of Mardi Gras—Carnevale. It’s a whole season that leads up to Lent. In Rome, the focus is very much on kids, who dress up in costumes in the the weeks before Fat Tuesday (think about an extended Halloween) and throw confetti on unsuspecting pedestrians (especially when they are dressed like priests). It’s particularly spectacular in Venice, where the focus is more on adults. The masks and costumes are magnificent, the fireworks and music are splendid, and the food, of course, is memorable.
The best part about Carnevale was that it got me thinking about Lent early. Even without Carnevale, I hope that you have been taking some time before Lent to speak with the Lord about how he might be inviting you to a closer relationship with him over the next 40 days. Perhaps he’s leading us to embrace a particular work of charity or almsgiving that would serve some of our most vulnerable sisters and brothers these days, or a penance that might help us rely a little less on creature comforts and more on our Lord’s providence, or a devotion that would get us to spend more time in prayer or before the Blessed Sacrament.
I get a letter most years from a wonderful chocolatier in St. Paul who asks me not to suggest that we give up chocolate, noting that she takes a big hit every Lent…so let’s get more creative and go even bolder this year. But rather than white-knuckling it with a gesture that highlights our strength, how about turning the tables by recognizing our “littleness” and making a bold request of the Lord this Lent. Sacred Scripture tells us that we have a loving Father who always welcomes such humble requests.
Throughout the Bible, there are countless stories of women and men crying out to the Lord and asking him for miracles big and small. You’ll remember Hannah, Samuel’s mother, who was so demonstrative in her prayer for a son that Eli thought that she was inebriated. You’ll surely remember the paralytic, moreover, who allowed himself to be lowered from the roof by his friends to be healed by Jesus. (I shared another example of this in my February video.) These actions were humble and bold at the same time, and our Lord rewarded them.
While these outward miracles probably get the most attention, we cannot discard the boldness of asking the Lord for real interior growth and healing—it’s not as obvious but immensely important. Think about the psalmist who prays, “A clean heart create for me, God” (Psalm 51:12) or the father in Mark’s Gospel who, as he asks for his son to be healed, prays, “I do believe, help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:20-27). They are bold prayers.
Many of you know that I have been fervently praying for unity and renewal in our Archdiocese, asking the Lord to mold the homes of our families to be like that of Jesus, Mary and Joseph in Nazareth, where God has primacy of place. I’ve been asking the Lord to bless our priests and lay leaders as they strive to make our parishes more welcoming to all, with small groups that draw us closer to our Lord, equip us to be missionary disciples and strengthen our community. I have been pleading that the Lord will fill our pews with Catholics young and not-so-young, whose hearts are on fire for Jesus and who see him in the least of his brothers and sisters and who respond generously to their needs. These are bold asks, but I trust that we have a God who truly wants our good.
Would you join me this Lent in yet another bold prayer: “Lord, make us saints.” That might sound a little over the top, but I’m convinced that holiness is both what our God desires for us and what is the deepest longing of our heart. From the moment that we receive our ashes, Lent is meant to point us beyond the present reality to the conversion—the turning away from sin and the belief in the Gospel—that will lead us to the life that God wants to share with us forever in heaven.
Know of my prayers for you this Lent. May this be a season of conversion and renewal for me, for you, and for the Church that we love.
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