Transformation—The Real Meaning of Lent

This piece was taken from Once Upon a Gospel, by the distinguished homilist Father William Bausch, and is meant for 3 Sunday Lent C: “If you do not repent, you will perish as they all did”:

A thumbnail lesson for today: did you ever wonder how Lent began? It began in the early centuries, when, as more and more people wanted to become Christians, a formal process of preparation was developed for them, a process designed to culminate in the candidates’ baptism on early Easter morn. The arduous process, often lasting for years, ended with a final forty-day marathon of studying, fasting, scrutiny, prayer and charity before Baptism was finally administered at Easter. It was the final forty-day push for the candidates that became our standard Lent for all Christians. And the designated word “Lent” was a good one; It comes from an old word meaning “lengthen”. It refers to the lengthening of daylight, the start of spring and therefore new beginnings, the whole idea of Lent.

In the course of history, Ash Wednesday was attached to Lent as an official introduction, a name given by Pope Urban in 1099. It could start as early as February 4 or as late as March 10, depending on the Easter date, which in turn depends on the moon’s cycle.

End of thumbnail.

But now, we have to add that, unfortunately, during the course of the centuries, Lent’s purpose and meaning hopped the track as its main focus moved to penance to giving up something, to fasting. By defining penance and fasting as Lent’s exclusive purpose, we lost what it was really all about. The real purpose, the real goal of Lent goes back to Jesus’ words often translated as “Repent and believe the good news”. But the word translated as “repent” in the original Greek is metanoia, which really means “a change of mind and heart.”

In other words, Lent’s intent doesn’t have anything to do with penitence and fasting as such, but with changing our way of life. Fasting, penance, and good deeds are only the means, not the end. The end, the goal of Lent is transformation; to be a different person, to lose our self-centeredness and to lose the habit of measuring everything by our needs and feelings in order to become a caring, compassionate person.

Lent, then, is about a radical change of mind and heart, of learning to see the world as God sees it, of becoming—let me use an old word here—noble; of learning to withdraw from the relentless narcotics of consumption and greed, of me-first, and simply becoming a good human being—again, to use an old word—a saint. Once more, Lent is about transformation, when someday kindness and charity will become second nature to us.

Lent’s charter story is Ebenezer scrooge, an Easter rather than a Christmas figure. His terrible penitential visions were but the means for his transformation from a miserly skinflint to a compassionate human being. Scrooge is not the perfect Christmas character; he is the perfect Lenten pilgrim.

So, at the end of Lent we are not to tally up on our spiritual scoreboard how many thing we gave up or how many devotions we took part in, how many good deeds we did. At the end of Lent what matters is if all these things brought a change of heart and mind, a transformation.

And that brings us to our final point. Transformation indeed is the goal of Lent, but the truth is that transformation is a slow quiet affair that usually takes place as a result of repeated small moments, not the one-time big ones, and we’ve got to get over our fantasies that it will be otherwise. By that I meant that, like Christian Walter Mittys, we tend to fantasize that someday we will be part of a mighty drama and all the world will applaud and we will be different as a result. We will discover a cure for cancer. Out of nowhere we will step in front of the president or pope and take the bullet. We will pray over a person and they will be cured. We will find a way to reverse global warming. We will be nominated the American Idol of the year who on TV announces to a stunned world that we are giving up fame and fortune to become a priest or nun to work among the poor in Africa. You name your own fantasy, but there you are, on the cover of Time Magazine, transformed from nobody to somebody.

It’s fun, but a futile fantasy.

Transformation is seldom instant; very few St Pauls are knocked down by a vision. Rather, transformation is a result of many little acts of kindness, unnoticed charities, secret prayers, quiet compassions. We are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around the great moments, But truly great moments often catch us unaware, beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Transformation, friends, is the goal of Lent and it is Lent’s small acts of kindness that get you there.