The Beauty in the Fast

On Lent’s Invitation to Silence and Fasting

The choir hums, but does not burst in glorious refrain. The music is subdued, the organ absent. The priest, alone, chants in his quiet stately voice. There is no resounding Gloria, and the congregation kneels silently for the Sanctus. The purple vestments disappear in the shadowy darks of the stone church. The bell of the Consecration rings out with great clarity, startling the deep tranquility of priest and parishioner. There is quiet reigning in the Mass, the sister and counterpart to the golden glittering, celebratory feeling of other Sundays.

The Church calendar is filled with both feasts and fasts, days of celebration and days of penance. Yet, especially in the modern world, the quiet moments of the calendar are often ignored in favor of elongating the celebratory aspects. Christmas is regarded with great joy and anticipation: Advent is glossed over, forgotten, dismissed as an archaism. Lent is a time of moaning and groaning, and the sacrifices it entails are ignored, in favor of early Easter celebrations and festivities.

The penitential does not come  as easily as the celebratory, of course; especially in the modern world, which is so filled with comforts and conveniences. Every day is a day of “feasting” and so, learning to live the days of “fasting” is a difficult task. They require more intention, effort, and preparation than they did in the Middle Ages. But it is worth the challenge of incorporating Lenten sacrifices into the season, for they turn Easter Day into a more joyful occasion. Preempting the celebration of Easter is not an anticipation: it’s merely celebrating early. Anticipation is a separate activity from the approaching event. By preparing for Easter with quiet reflection and abstinence, one is not “partied out” by the time Eastertide arrives; and one can more fully participate in the wonders of the Resurrection.

Feasting without fasting becomes mundane: it is stripped of its special quality and rendered meaningless. If all days are extravagant, then what is that extravagance worth? Similarly, all fasting with no feasting is simply starvation: it deprives one of the goodness of Creation and the bounty God has bestowed on mankind. During Lent, one does not sacrifice what is bad or unenjoyable; one sacrifices what one holds dear, or enjoys, in order to do penance, to renew an appreciation, and to be freed from the distraction. A balance between feasting and fasting is necessary: there are moments of intense joy and moments of deep reflection. 

This is powerfully reflected in the Mass, which puts aside triumphant music and alleluias, for the quiet of contemplation. The Lenten Mass, in its silence, offers the chance for the congregation to join in deeper union with the prayer of the priest. There is no chance of distraction by music or ornate decorations. The ear and the eye are focused on the deliberate movements and gentle words of the celebrant. Contemplation and unison through prayer are the hallmarks of the Lent Mass. Parishioners are encouraged to follow along with missals, and to read the prayers of the priest, with complete concentration on the sacrifice at hand.

For the Mass is the recapitulation of the entire season of Lent: the Last Supper of Christ. It is only appropriate that the Mass during Lent be of especial quiet and focus. That is not to say that the Mass loses its beauty. On the contrary, its beauty is heightened by its subdued celebration. For there is no competition, in the form of music and art, with the words of the priest, as he ascends Cavalry with Christ. Everyone in attendance walks with him, joining their personal prayers to him.

But the stillness and plainness of the Lent Mass ought not to remain within the confines of the church. It must be invited into one’s personal life. Fasting is a personal affair, just as much as it is a community endeavor. Lenten sacrifices are difficult and often trivialized. Too often, one defaults to “not eating sugar” or “trying to control my temper” without giving much thought to the meaning of the sacrifice; just as often, one begins with good intentions only to slack off after a week. Furthermore, proper fasting (on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday) and abstinence from meat (on Fridays) are already required of Catholics during Lent.  Simply agreeing to follow these rules does not constitute a good personal Lenten practice. Perhaps it is worth considering a different kind of sacrifice, which will recenter one’s life around contemplation of the Scriptures, meditative prayer, and sitting in silence with the Lord. 

If there is a particular vice of the modern world, it might be the constant need for entertainment and diversion. Modern society is terrified of silence. Lent provides the ideal opportunity to confront this vice and fear; to put aside the unending bombardment of vapid media and instead, dwell with the greatest thinkers of the Catholic Tradition. One might consider switching from reading novels to reading a book of the Bible, a Doctor of the Church (Augustine’s Confessions, selections from Aquinas’ Summa), the encyclicals of the Popes, or a particularly enlightening biography of a saint. It is a small sacrifice, in some sense: it does not require that something be removed entirely from one’s life. But it does require discipline to read these dense difficult works and to truly meditate on their content. There is always much focus placed on the physical vices: gluttony, lust, sloth; and so often, the intellectual vices (pride, greed, envy, etc.) are forgotten, though they are equally, if not more, dangerous to the soul. 

To place the quiet slowness of the season at the forefront; to eschew the loud, fast-paced excitements that stir the mind and distract it; to fast from the “current” and to focus on the “eternal”; to turn prayer and contemplation into a daily routine: these are the goals of Lent. The subdued Mass provides an impetus to institute this same quiet into one’s daily life: by replacing the music and gaiety of contemporary media with the solemnity and seriousness of the Bible and the Church Fathers.

The silence of Lent cannot be accomplished in a world full of intrusions: parties, good food, entertainment, even the Alleluia preceding the Gospel. The whole world holds still as they await the Passion and Resurrection, most especially on Good Friday, the only day of the year on which no Mass is celebrated. In accepting Lent’s invitation to silent worship, one becomes more truly united with the sanctifying grace of the Holy Sacrifice, and more prepared to rejoice on the Third Day.