Rest a while

Lent is here again.

Retreat for a moment to your childhood memories. Sweets gathering in an Agee jar in the cupboard. Fasting and abstinence to the fore. Self-restraint in all things the order of the day.

No meat on Fridays. The strong determination to do something more worthwhile.

My strongest memory is that I have always celebrated my birthday during Lent! Why did my parents choose early March as my birth date?

The image I have for the season of Lent is living with the blinds pulled down. The word subdued comes to mind. Sackcloth would be the Old Testament equivalent.

There are, however, some anomalies in our season of Lent.

The first is in the “liturgical sackcloth” we use. Our Lenten liturgical colour is purple, the same colour used most frequently during our ritual for the dead.

In antiquity, purple was one of the most challenging colours to produce, making it highly prized and often reserved for the elite. The most famous purple dye, Tyrian purple, was derived from the mucous secretion of sea snails, particularly the Murex brandaris.

This painstaking process required thousands of snails to produce just a small amount of dye, contributing to its high value and association with nobility and power. The Roman emperors famously donned purple togas, symbolising their supreme status.

The rare and expensive Tyrian dye of antiquity is now widely available through synthetic pigments developed in the 19th century. To this day, purple remains associated with royalty, wealth and power.

If in doubt, search images of King Charles III and Queen Camilla waving to the gathered crowd immediately following his coronation. After the ceremony at Westminster Abbey, Charles retired to a side room and changed into a specially made purple satin coronation tunic.

The second anomaly is the very word itself — Lent. It originates from the Old English word “lencten,” meaning spring.

Spring is the season of new budding and new growth. It is the season of fresh colour, of awakening, of new lambs and calves, of daffodils and tulips.

The world is anything but subdued. The world is noisy with new life.

The third anomaly is our use of ashes. If you participated in the Ash Wednesday liturgy, you may have noticed that the usual Penitential Rite was omitted and replaced by the blessing and giving of ashes.

This gives the ashes a penitential feel. However, ashes are, in fact, anything but penitential.

Wood ash provides potassium and lime — essential elements for healthy growth. This is most evident in the new growth that follows a forest fire, where new shoots push up through the ash, which becomes the seedbed for renewal.

May the ashes of Ash Wednesday be the seedbed of new growth in you.

The township of Pukekohe lies some 45km south of Auckland city in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

In the township, there is a store called Pik n Mix. It’s an online lolly store with over 400 different types of loose lollies.

Yes, you read right – 400!

When purchasing, you need to make a choice. Is it the size, the colour, or the taste that influences your choice of lolly?

What you choose and pay for then becomes your responsibility.

This simple act of choosing mirrors a deeper spiritual truth.

In our First Reading today (Ecclesiasticus 15:16–21), the author invites us to make a choice.

“God has set fire and water before you; put out your hand to whichever you prefer. People have life and death before them; whichever a person likes better will be given to them.”

God summons us to a radical way of living. We are called to be more than just moral: God invites us to be virtuous.

We become virtuous by habitually choosing to do good.

Naturally, we are not perfect. However, God calls us to reflect on how we live and to understand what has gone right and what has gone wrong for us.

Such reflection can lead us to insight that will help us to live better and be virtuous in the future.

Therefore, by reflecting on our experiences in the light of our faith, we grow in wisdom.

The author of today’s first reading, Sirach, affirms that God knows every human action. St. Paul reminds us that God has many riches for those who love him.

Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, says that he has come not to abolish but to fulfil the Law and the Prophets.

What we see clearly in the readings today is that there are repercussions – good or bad – for all our actions.

Our challenge is to avoid opportunities that do harm and to choose those that lead us to God.

Sirach, the Psalmist, Paul and Jesus embraced this way of life. They are examples of how we can become virtuous and wise.

If we take to heart their messages from the readings this Sunday, we too, like them, will be true beacons of virtue – people of faith, hope and love.

Before the publication of Dan Brown’s novel “The Da Vinci Code,” few knew the intricate details of the artwork on which the book is based. The novel centres on a painting by the Italian Renaissance artist Leonardo da Vinci known as “The Last Supper.”

The painting is massive, measuring about 15 feet high by 28 feet wide. It remains in its original location on the wall of the dining room of the former Dominican convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie—exactly the place for which it was commissioned.

While the novel remains an engaging read, many have questioned its historical accuracy. Church leaders have criticized claims in the book regarding a Jesus-Mary Magdalene bloodline as blasphemous.

However, Leonardo’s intent was not to portray the institution of the Eucharist, nor to provide a charming tableau of fellowship. Instead, he chose to illustrate the dramatic moment described in John 13:21-30, when the Lord prophesies the betrayal of Judas.

Leonardo captures the shock and bewilderment among the Apostles in the moments after Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.”

As Matthew writes: “And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, ‘Surely not I, Lord?’” (26:17-30). Mark records the same question, while Luke writes that they began to ask which of them would do such a thing.

Yet it was John’s report that fired Leonardo’s imagination. This provides the context for a detail frequently missed by viewers.

To the left, a figure sits in front of the disciple who is pointing. This is almost certainly Judas. He holds a money bag, signifying his role as treasurer for the 12.

Subtly placed near his arm is a salt container that Judas has knocked over, spilling its contents. In the Book of Leviticus, salt is seen as a symbol of the covenant.

Judas spilling the salt symbolizes that his covenant relationship with Jesus has ended. Because the salt is lost, a haunting question remains: Has the gift been wasted?

As Matthew 5:13 warns: “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is good for nothing.”