Beyond the Checklist

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Peace be with you!

Each year the Lord, in His mercy, gives us this holy season of Lent as a season of great grace and renewal. The Church calls us again to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, not because God needs our sacrifices, but because we need to be healed and transformed by Him. Lent is God’s invitation to come home and return to Him with our whole hearts, as we hear each year at Mass on Ash Wednesday. And that is the key to avoiding the trap I am sure many of us know well: turning our Lenten practices into a checklist.

We “check the box” when Lent becomes mostly about what we give up, what we add on, or how well we are doing. But the Lord says through the prophet Joel: “Rend your hearts, not your garments” (Joel 2:13). God is not interested in the appearance of repentance; He desires the reality of it. Jesus explicitly tells his listeners in the Gospel for Ash Wednesday that they should not appear gloomy or perform these acts of prayer or almsgiving in order to be seen (cf. Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). He wants not merely a disciplined exterior, but a surrendered heart.

So how do we make sure our Lenten practices lead to true conversion and surrender of heart?

First, we must remember what true conversion is. Conversion is not self-improvement; it is relationship. That means the purpose of every Lenten discipline is to remove what hardens the heart, numbs the soul, and pulls us away from our relationship with God so that we can better hear Him and trust Him.

Prayer is the first pillar because it re-centers our life on God. But prayer can also become “box-checking” when it is rushed, distracted, or treated like an obligation to be completed. The question we ask ourselves ought not only be, “Did I pray today?” but “Did I encounter the Lord today?” Real prayer makes space for God and trains us to listen. It also teaches us have the courage to be honest with him about our fears, our sins, our gratitude, our wounds, our hopes. Rather than hiding behind pious words, we come to Him with all that we have on our hearts, both good and bad.  Even ten minutes of sincere prayer can convert the heart more than an hour of prayer done as a duty with the heart elsewhere.

This Lent, I encourage you to choose prayer that is simple and steady: daily Scripture, a decade of the Rosary, quiet time before the crucifix, Eucharistic adoration, or a sincere morning offering. Bring your real life to the Lord, without filtering or holding anything back. When prayer becomes relationship, it transforms us. The heart gradually learns to turn toward God, rather than away from Him.

Fasting, the second pillar, is not a spiritual diet plan or a punishment, but rather reveals what is inside us. When we deny ourselves something legitimate—food, entertainment, comfort—we discover how quickly we grasp for substitutes. We notice our irritability, our anxieties, our cravings, our need for control. It shows us where we are not truly free.

Fasting also makes room for more. It creates an interior emptiness meant to be filled by God. “Man does not live on bread alone” (cf. Mt 4:4). When we experience hunger, whether of the body or the heart, we are invited to bring that hunger to Christ. Fasting teaches us to say, “Jesus, I want You more than I want this.” Over time, it trains the soul in freedom and trust. It strengthens the will, yes, but even more, it softens the heart.

Almsgiving is the third pillar, and it protects Lent from becoming self-centered. If prayer turns us toward God and fasting loosens our grip on ourselves, almsgiving turns us outward in love. It is more than writing a check, as important as sacrificial giving is. Almsgiving is the intentional practice of mercy. It asks: Who is near me and in need? Whose burdens can I help carry? Where have I been indifferent?

Almsgiving converts us because it allows us to imitate the heart of Christ. It breaks down the walls of apathy and keeps our penances grounded in love, because love is always concrete. Lent is not only about “me and my spiritual growth.” It is about becoming like Jesus—who pours Himself out.
As we continue in this season of liturgical renewal as a diocese, these practices should also draw us deeper into the mystery of the liturgy.  The liturgy is not something we “fit in” after our personal devotions and practices.  Rather, it is the source and summit of the Church’s life. In the liturgy, and particularly in the celebration of the Mass, we see Jesus Himself showing us the perfection of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. There we learn what true love looks like: self-gift. And there we receive the grace to live what we cannot live by our own strength.

Our liturgical renewal, then, is not about aesthetics or preferences. It is about recovering the truth that worship forms us. What we celebrate shapes what we believe, and what we believe shapes how we live. Lent is the time to let the Church’s prayer teach us to pray; to let the Church’s fasting and disciplines teach us freedom; to let the Church’s charity teach us mercy; and to let the Church’s liturgy teach us adoration, reverence, and gratitude.

This Lent, I ask you to approach the liturgy with renewed intention. Arrive a bit early. Prepare your heart. Listen deeply to the readings. Enter the silence. Sing with the voice that God gave you. Make a sincere act of repentance. Offer your week—your struggles and joys—on the altar with the bread and wine. And above all, receive Jesus in Holy Communion with faith and gratitude. The most powerful Lenten resolution is not simply “I will do more,” but “I will let Christ change me.”

May our faithful God transform us all as we enter into this holy season.