Skip to main content
So it's Friday and it's Lent and that means no meat today. But what does that mean? What are we really giving up by eating delicious seafood dishes instead of meat? I choose to focus on the act itself. What we are supposed to be trying to do is emulate Jesus and the suffering that he endured for us. We are reminded of his suffering by participating in another Friday Lenten tradition, the Way of the Cross. Jesus suffered at the hands of his captors repeatedly during his passion and he still suffers because of the things we continue to do on earth. The different now is that we have his saving grace, which he gives freely and without cost. So the act of refraining from eating meat (or anything else we decided to give up for Lent) is to help us remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us. What a loving gift. It reminds us that God is love and everything Jesus did for us was for love. It reminds us that Jesus asks us to love God above all and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Very simply stated but sometimes hard to accomplish. So maybe not eating meat on Friday is so that you can focus on praying for those you consider your enemy. Maybe the abstinence is for someone who continues to bully you. Maybe it is to remind us that God is sharpening us with these trials. Whatever you are thinking about during your Lenten journey, remember to ask God for guidance. Ask God to keep your focus on the promise of eternal life. The abstinence you practice on Fridays during Lent may lead you to change your lifestyle or give up a bad habit. Now isn't that worth eating seafood on Fridays during Lent?

Popular posts from this blog

The Gentle Art of Holy Surrender

In the quiet, dusty corners of our hearts, we often harbor blueprint drafts of how we think our lives should unfold. We carefully map out our timelines, hoping for a smooth path, and it is only natural to feel a bit lost or weary when a sudden storm alters our course or a door we prayed would open remains closed. Yet, our Lord does not stand at a distance during these moments of uncertainty; He is a tender Shepherd who walks beside us, gently whispering, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope" ( Jeremiah 29:11). When our own plans crumble, it is not a sign that He has abandoned us, but rather an invitation to fold our hands, release our grip on the pen, and offer our own quiet fiat—letting Him guide us into green pastures we could never have found on our own. Placing our trust in His loving providence allows us to breathe deeply and find rest, even when the road ahead is shrouded in mist. E...

Woman, Behold Your Son

The spiritual climax of the Gospel of John, as Father John Waiss points out, occurs at the foot of the Cross, where Jesus utters his parting words: “Woman, behold, your son!” and “Behold your mother!” (John 19:26-27). While these words were addressed to the Apostle John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, the Church has long understood this moment as a universal adoption. To truly image Christ, we must share in His parentage; if we embrace God as our spiritual Father but reject Mary as our mother, we treat Christ as a half-brother rather than our "firstborn among many brethren" (Rom. 8:29). As Origen noted as early as the third century, the profound depths of the Gospel are only accessible to those who, like John, rest their heads on Jesus’ breast and receive Mary into their own homes. This maternal role is deeply rooted in biblical typology, positioning Mary as the fulfillment of the great mothers of the Old Covenant. She is the New Eve , the mother of all the living according ...

Praying With The Five Wounds Of Jesus

I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...