Lent has a way of tempting us into thinking small. We give up chocolate, or wine, or we give up endlessly scrolling on our phones in the evenings. We feel quietly pleased with ourselves—as if God were keeping a tally of our efforts somewhere in heaven. Perhaps that’s why, right at the start of Lent, the Church hands us the Prophets. Their job is not to congratulate us on our minor sacrifices. Their job is if far more important. They are here to call us back into right relationship—with God, with one another, and with ourselves.
Hosea, whom we hear from during Holy Week, says it plainly: “Come back to me with all your heart.”But before we get to Hosea, we must engage with Isaiah. The prophet who doesn’t so much invite us into Lent as blast a trumpet in our ear announcing the meaning of Lent. “Cry aloud; do not hold back; lift up your voice like a trumpet.” This is not a gentle nudge. It’s a wake‑up call.
Remember Isaiah is speaking to a very religious people. A people who looks very religious. They fast. They pray. They turn up. On the surface, everything seems in order. But God sees deeper and says, “You seek me daily… as if you were a nation that did righteousness.” That little phrase “as if” says everything. Because while they look holy, their relationships are falling apart. They fast, but they argue. They bow their heads in prayer, but they put others under heavy burdens. They wear sackcloth but ignore the hungry and the homeless. Their religious practice is flawless; their compassion is not. And God says, very simply: That is not the fast I want from you.
Lent is not about looking religious it is about becoming reconciled. Isaiah gives us God’s version of fasting, and it is astonishingly concrete: Loosen the bonds of wickedness—let go of the grudges you are holding onto. Undo the straps of the yoke—stop placing expectations on others that you have never been able to fulfil. Let the oppressed go free—release people from the stories you have trapped them in. Share your bread—not your leftovers, but your life. Shelter the homeless, clothe the naked—see the humanity in the people you would rather avoid. Do not hide from your own flesh—repair the relationships closest to home, the ones you have quietly given up on.
And the beauty of Isaiah’s vision is this: God is not waiting at the end of a long, exhausting journey of self‑improvement. He doesn’t expect you to do it all on your own. God is waiting at the very first step. “Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’”
Here I am—in the neighbour you avoided.
Here I am—in the family member you need to forgive.
Here I am—in the person you wronged and the person who wronged you.
Here I am—in the healing you thought was impossible.
This Lent may our fasting be the kind God chooses: the kind that mends what is broken, that frees what is bound, that restores what has been lost, one that lets God’s light break through the cracks of our imperfect, beautiful, human relationships. Amen.
Isaiah 58: 1-9a
Paul Jenkins O.Carm
