The Gospel today describes a son who, after squandering his inheritance on selfish pleasures, finds himself in misery and loneliness. Coming to his senses, he returns to his father, expecting rejection or punishment, yet he receives an extravagant welcome instead. The father, filled with joy, proclaims, "We must celebrate and rejoice, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found."
The father's words remind us profoundly of what Lent is ultimately about: dying to sin and rising to new life in Christ. His joy captures the essence of this Laetare Sunday—a moment of joyful anticipation as we draw closer to the celebration of Easter—a reminder that if we die with Christ we will experience the joy of rising with him to new life.
Today’s call to joy reminds me vividly of an experience from my seminary formation.
I’ve shared before how, I was able to study in Rome, Italy for about six months. I attended classes at the wonderful Dominican School, the Angelicum; every day I was walked passed the famous Trevi Fountain and the famous Spanish steps, down the same streets of the Eternal City that saints had walked.
In addition to our academic work, my seminary formation involved some charitable apostolic work. I had the blessing of working alongside the Missionary Sisters of Charity at a homeless shelter, in their care for the homeless men and women of Rome. So, every Friday morning, a few of us seminarians would walk past the Coliseum to the Sister’s homeless shelter: we would serve breakfast to homeless men, clean up after breakfast, then help the sisters do the laundry.
Now Blessed Mother Theresa didn’t believe in modern conveniences, so the clothing and the soiled sheets and towels were washed by hand on old fashioned scrub boards. Mother Theresa wanted the sisters to learn how to do small tasks with great love—which included doing laundry with the love of Christ in your heart.
One sister, likely detecting my need to learn a lesson of humble service, had me scrub the baseboards with a toothbrush, teaching me to serve joyfully, even in the smallest ways.
One Friday, deep in the season of Lent, as we are now, one of the seminarians, enthusiastically asked a sister, “Sister, are you ready for Easter?” With seriousness yet unmistakable joy, she replied, “No, I still have much dying to do.” Her words struck me deeply. Here was a woman who lived every day in total selflessness—no possessions, no comforts, spending her days washing soiled sheets and caring for the homeless. If given a simple chocolate bar, she would joyfully give it away, knowing even small acts of love could bring hope to another. Yet she still said, “I still have much dying to do.” She understood profoundly that dying to self leads to rising with Christ.
Today, I stand vested in liturgical rose, the color of dawn's first light before sunrise. It symbolizes joyful anticipation—Easter’s joy is now on the horizon. This Sunday invites us to pause in the midst of our Lenten disciplines to experience joy—not simply because Lent is almost over, but precisely because we recognize the life-giving purpose behind our Lenten penances and sacrifices.
They help us to die that we might live. Like dear sister, we have much dying yet to do. But that dying is done joyfully. We do our penances joyfully because we know that they lead to life. They lead to a fuller embrace of God.
I don’t know about you, but during Lent, it sure feels like there are more inconveniences than normal. Even those inconveniences though can be embraced joyfully because when we endure them patiently, without complaint, we are dying to self in order to live more fully for God.
In the Eastern Catholic traditions, believers intensify their spiritual efforts as Holy Week approaches, recognizing the urgency of preparing their hearts fully for the Resurrection. Perhaps we too can intensify our commitment, recognizing that the deeper our "dying," the greater our joy will be on Easter morning.
Today’s Gospel assures us that, regardless of how far we have strayed, from our Lenten penances or even from the path of Christ, the Father joyfully awaits our return. He longs to celebrate our resurrection from sin to grace, from death to life. Like the prodigal son, may we humbly arise and return, trusting fully in God’s merciful embrace.
“Sister, are you ready for Easter?” “No, I still have much dying to do.” As we journey onward toward Easter, let us also joyfully embrace this final stretch of Lent, knowing that our dying to self will lead us directly into the joyful light of the Resurrection—for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.
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