While Christians of all different perspectives and types may find our times particularly troublesome and challenging for a variety of reasons, it is important to note that the Church in its wisdom never assesses a given era and says, “We’re in such good shape right now, there’s no need for a season of repentance this year.”
In fact, a week never passes where we do not profess our shortcomings and plead for mercy and forgiveness in the penitential rite before we approach the Eucharistic table. But why does the season of Lent, which we enter into Feb. 14, look precisely like it does? Is there a particular significance to its structure?
In English, we use the word “Lent” to describe this pre-paschal time of preparation, as it connects to the Anglo-Saxon roots of the springtime season where the days are “lengthening.” In other languages, it can refer to the practice of fasting (German: Fastenzeit, Polish: wielki post, Arabic: al-ṣawm al-kabīr), or in the Romance languages and their derivatives, make reference to the word for 40 (Italian: quaresima, Spanish: cuaresma, Filipino: kuwaresma). This formulation may look familiar to some, as our word “quarantine” comes from the same root – traced to the number of days ships were required to lay in wait outside the city of Venice before being admitted, to make sure no one aboard was contagious with the plague.
The number 40 is a crucial one in Scripture, appearing more than 150 times. Some examples include the days of rains during the flood of Noah; the time Moses both prayed and then was on the mountain with God; the years that the Israelites wandered in the desert; the period during which Goliath and the philistines taunted the chosen people; the warnings of Jonah to Nineveh, and the reigns of Saul, David and Solomon.
Deuteronomy had laid out a maximum penalty of 40 lashes as a punishment for a crime; thus Saint Paul records being penalized five times with 39 lashes, likely when accused of blasphemy in the ancient synagogues. However, the Romans were not bound by such Jewish restrictions when they flogged Jesus, “by whose stripes we are healed.” (cf. Is 53:5) Crucially, in the New Testament, Jesus was led to the desert to fast for 40 days before his public ministry, and then appeared to the disciples for that many days after the Resurrection before ascending to sit at the right hand of the Father.
Luminary figures in the patristic era (from the first to eighth century of Christianity) like Athanasius, Augustine, Leo the Great, and in particular Ambrose, extolled the importance of mortification during this period to advance our holiness, conduct and ability to resist temptations. Many early Christians undertook a “Black Fast,” meaning a refusal to take any food or water during the day, and then eating a meal devoid of meat, eggs, alcohol or dairy products after dark. This style of fasting, while still prevalent among contemporary Christians in places like India and Pakistan, is more akin to the Muslim rites of Ramadan, where the post-sunset breaking of the strict fast every day for a month is called “iftar.”
It is worth noting that the typical gestation period for a pregnancy is also roughly 40 weeks, the reason that it is the traditional time between the celebration of the Immaculate Conception (Dec. 8) and the birth of the Virgin (Sept. 8), as well as between the Feast of the Annunciation (March 25) and Christmas Day (Dec. 25). In his autobiography, Saint Ignatius of Loyola spends the same amount of time in convalescence, before determining to dedicate his life to God.
There is spiritual significance to all this, as the number 40 can help remind us to commit ourselves to the constant “re-birthing” process that is connected to our lifelong and unfolding conversion. At its best, Lent can be a microcosmic experience of this “renaissance,” preparing us through frugality, asceticism and solemnity to celebrate more intentionally the new life made present in the Easter season.
In the 40 days immediately after the Resurrection, Jesus encountered the disciples directly, encouraged them, taught them, fed them, prepared them for coming transitions, and eventually commissioned them to live out his commandment to love others in ever more public ways. May he do the same for us now once again over the next 40.
An alumnus of Camden Catholic High School, Cherry Hill, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.