Statue of Our Lady draped in violet

The publication of this issue of The Current in the week just prior to the beginning of Lent leads us to consider how the “Lenten Journey” manifests itself in our liturgical life. A season of penance, Lent calls for preparation. It is fruitful to consciously and intentionally give some forethought to the meaning of this liturgical season, and to prepare for its arrival. Monastic communities discover a kind of enthusiasm for Lent, the season whose character, Benedict says, colors the entire monastic life. We reconsider and rediscover the value of ascetic practice, self-denial, examination of conscience. We share collectively the project of repentance. While such interests engage the church universal in its Lenten practice, they push the faithful during this season towards a religious life that, if we hear Benedict properly, makes the entire church community more monastic. 

We are all familiar with the outward changes of Lent. It begins with the stark reminder of the ashes. The liturgical color is purple; the alleluias are silenced; the music more subdued. The hymns we sing begin to remind us of Christ’s forty days in the desert, of resisting temptations, and of preparing for our own death. We are encouraged to consider the sacrament of penance.  All this produces the familiar Lenten milieu. Outside the liturgy, our Fridays smell of fish and our menu calls for fasting. All this creates an environment embraced by the Rule of Saint Benedict, which contains a well-known chapter dedicated to Lent and Lenten practice, encapsulating the character of the monastic inspiration: 

Introit of Ash Wednesday

We discern several elements in this chapter that shape Lenten practice in this monastery. Monks take on some special Lenten reading: perhaps a spiritual classic, a text of personal significance, or perhaps a challenging new work. They will typically take on some sort of individual ascetical practice, which might involve such areas as “food, drink, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting.” Benedict mentions “devoting ourselves to prayer.” While this may seem redundant in a life already devoted to prayer, it elicits a re-dedication, an examination of self, a desire to pray the divine office more fervently, more sincerely. This desire extends to being more fully present and attentively at Mass. And Benedict explicitly situates Lenten practice in the context of obedience: all Lenten plans are to be made known to the abbot, and undertaken only with his approval - it is “presumption and vainglory” to do otherwise. It is standard practice for monks to provide an inventory of their possessions to the abbot at this time, and to discuss with him their Lenten intentions. 

The spirit and aim of these practices, as of all our faith, is distributed throughout the liturgies of Lent. It is an inspiration informing the selection of readings for the church universal, beginning from the Ash Wednesday Gospel, which calls to inward and authentic prayer and conversion, not merely the outward show. Such an examination of our motivations reflects the renewal Benedict calls for during Lent, reflected in liturgical modifications. Brother Sixtus oversees the production of ashes, remnants of last year’s palms from Palm Sunday. Brother Joseph attends to the production and distribution of the seasonal binders containing the Divine Office. The header subtly printed on each page reminds us of the suppression of the alleluia, replaced in doxologies by, “Praise be to you, O Lord, King of Everlasting Glory.” The community kneels more frequently, as during Vespers at the prayer for mercy and during the Lord’s Prayer and petitions after the Magnificat. Father Edward guides the schola through the Graduale, with the season’s eucharistic celebrations provided each day with a distinct set of antiphons. Compline closes the day with the Ave Regina Caelorum, the hymn to Our Lady ushered in at the Feast of the Presentation and sung until Holy Thursday. 

It also bears mention that the First Sunday of Lent, whose Gospel reminds us of the forty days that Christ struggles in the desert, served as the first day of Lent in the time of our patron, Gregory the Great. This produced a six-week duration for Lent, 36 days, not including the Sundays. Gregory noted that, mathematically, this produced a kind of tithe on the days of the year, with 36 approximating one-tenth of the number of days of the year. It is with gratitude that we may consider the opportunity that soon awaits us, to begin to offer once again to Our Lord such a tithe.