Open my lips, and my mouth shall shew forth your praise. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

These readings hand us one single question, asked three different ways. What does repentance look like when it becomes flesh and bone, when it becomes choices, money, time, attention, speech, restraint, repair.

Isaiah begins with a command that sounds like a trumpet blast: “Cry aloud, do not hold back” (Hebrew: qera), “lift up your voice like a ram’s horn” (Hebrew: shofar). The prophet is ordered to speak loudly because God’s people have learned how to sound religious while staying unchanged. They “seek” God daily (Hebrew: darash), they “delight” (Hebrew: chafets) to know His ways, they fast (Hebrew: tsom), they bow their heads, they look like penitents. Yet God says the fast is empty because it never reaches the neighbor.

Isaiah 58 is famous for one reason: it defines a true fast in plain terms. “Is not this the fast that I choose?” To “loose the bonds of wickedness” (Hebrew: rish‘ah), to “undo the straps of the yoke” (Hebrew: motah), to “let the oppressed go free” (Hebrew: shalleach chofshi), to “break every yoke.” Then it gets even more concrete: “share your bread with the hungry” (Hebrew: paros lachmecha), “bring the homeless poor into your house,” “cover the naked.” This is not poetry meant to stay in the clouds. It is a checklist meant to land in the kitchen, the budget, the calendar, the spare room of the heart.

The promise attached to that kind of repentance is equally concrete. “Then shall your light break forth like the dawn.” Light in Isaiah is never mere mood. Light is public, it changes what can be seen, it makes a path. Then comes a phrase worth holding onto in Lent: “your righteousness shall go before you” (Hebrew: tsidqatecha), “the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard” (Hebrew: kevode YHWH). When you live a life of mercy, your past stops chasing you as an accuser. God Himself guards your back. The wounds that haunt you do not get the last word.

Psalm 51 is the interior side of the same truth. Isaiah says, “repair what you do to others.” The psalm says, “let God repair what sin has done to you.” “Have mercy on me” (Hebrew: chaneni), “according to your steadfast love” (Hebrew: chesed), “according to your abundant compassion” (Hebrew: rachamim). Those two words matter. Chesed is covenant love, love that stays. Rachamim is mercy tied to the womb, mercy that carries, protects, refuses to discard.

Then David names sin with two main terms: “my transgressions” (Hebrew: pesha‘), “my iniquity” (Hebrew: ‘avon), “my sin” (Hebrew: chatta’ah). Scripture stacks words like that because sin is not one simple thing. Sometimes it is rebellion. Sometimes it is a crookedness that has bent us. Sometimes it is missing the mark until we forget the target existed. Lent gives us permission to tell the truth with specificity.

The heart of Psalm 51 is a request God loves to answer: “Create in me a clean heart” (Hebrew: lev tahor), “and renew a right spirit within me” (Hebrew: ruach nachon). Notice the verb: “create” (Hebrew: bara). That verb is used in Genesis for God’s creative act. David is not asking for a small adjustment. He is asking for new creation. Then the psalm ties interior change to outward witness: “Then I will teach transgressors your ways.” Repentance that stays private and never becomes instruction, repair, and testimony, tends to evaporate. Repentance that becomes new creation tends to overflow.

Then Paul enters, and he speaks with urgency: “We are ambassadors for Christ” (Greek: presbeuomen hyper Christou), “God making his appeal through us” (Greek: parakalountos di’ hemon). That means the Christian life is public in a very specific way. People are meant to encounter God’s invitation through your actual conduct, your patience, your gentleness, your honesty, your refusal to repay evil with evil. “Be reconciled to God” (Greek: katallagete to Theo). Katallage is reconciliation, the restoration of relationship, the end of hostility, the bridge rebuilt.

Then comes one of the most important lines in the entire season: “Behold, now is the acceptable time” (Greek: idou nun kairos euprosdektos), “behold, now is the day of salvation” (Greek: idou nun hemera soterias). Lent is never an aesthetic. Lent is a deadline of mercy. It is a window, and windows close.

Paul then describes what this “now” looks like in real life. It looks like endurance (Greek: hypomone). It looks like patience under strain, purity (Greek: hagnotes), knowledge (Greek: gnosis), kindness (Greek: chrestotes), and love “unfeigned” (Greek: agape anypokritos). That last word matters. Any-pokritos is “without hypocrisy,” without a mask. The church cannot be a theater. The saints are formed when the mask comes off and the truth comes out.

Then Jesus in Matthew 6 gives us the practical training plan. He takes three pillars of Jewish piety and assumes his disciples will practice them: almsgiving, prayer, fasting. He does not present them as optional. “When you give alms” (Greek: hotan poies eleemosynen). “When you pray” (Greek: hotan proseuche). “When you fast” (Greek: hotan nesteuete). The question is never whether. The question is how.

Jesus warns against doing holy acts to be seen. He uses a harsh word: “hypocrites” (Greek: hypokritai), literally stage actors. They have “their reward” (Greek: misthon). That reward is the applause itself, and it dies the moment the crowd scrolls away. Jesus is teaching spiritual sanity. He is teaching you how to keep your soul from being ruled by the eyes of others.

So he gives a discipline of secrecy. “Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.” That is not a command to be careless, it is a command to be unpossessed by recognition. “Go into your room” (Greek: eiselthe eis to tameion sou), the inner chamber, the place where you stop performing and start speaking truly. “And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” God sees what is hidden, including the motives we bury, the resentments we nurse, the grief we keep locked up, the love we give when nobody will ever know.

Then Jesus addresses fasting specifically: “Do not look gloomy” (Greek: me ginesthe skythropoi). Fasting is not spiritual self-harm. It is not a religious way to punish yourself. It is a training of desire. Then Jesus says, “anoint your head” (Greek: aleipsai sou ten kephalen), “wash your face” (Greek: nipsai sou to prosopon). In other words, keep your dignity. Keep your humanity. Keep your ordinary life intact. Let the fast be real, and let it be quiet.

Now, these readings lock together into a single, workable rule for Lent.

First, repentance must be truthful. Psalm 51 refuses denial. If you want a “clean heart” (lev tahor), you tell the truth about the dirt. A useful practice this season is to name the sins of the tongue alone. Rash speech. Cruel humor. The urge to “win” every conversation. The half-truth used to protect pride. Scripture treats the tongue as a rudder that steers the whole ship (James 3). A Lenten fast from careless speech is a real fast.

Second, repentance must become mercy. Isaiah 58 refuses a private religion. A useful practice this season is to choose one form of almsgiving (eleemosyne) that costs you something measurable. Not symbolic. Measurable. Money. Time. A task you dislike. A conversation you have avoided. A repair you owe. “Learn to do good, seek justice, correct oppression” (Isaiah 1:17). “Religion that is pure” includes care for the vulnerable (James 1:27). “I was hungry and you gave me food” (Matthew 25). These are not side quests. These are the center.

Third, repentance must be reconciled to God’s timing. Paul says “now” (nun). The devil loves tomorrow. Tomorrow is his favorite sacrament. Scripture says, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Psalm 95, Hebrews 3). Lent is training for obedience that happens before your mood agrees.

Fourth, repentance must be free of display. Jesus insists on secrecy because your heart is easily bribed. It is possible to do the right deed for the wrong reason. It is possible to pray for the purpose of being thought holy. It is possible to fast for the purpose of being admired. Jesus is not scolding spiritual disciplines. He is rescuing them from corruption.

Lent is always one of those confusing times in the Church’s seasons. What do I give up? Do I eat fish every Friday? And so much more. My Grandfather for Lent used to give up drinking, but then Saint Patrick’s day would come and he would fall off the wagon; he being fiercely Irish. I don’t expect you to give up meat on Fridays. I don’t expect that you will decide to quit an addiction either. I’m your Bishop, not your physician. Still, if you choose to give up an addiction for Lent, I pray eagerly for your success over these 40 days; it is a noble endeavor to attempt to be healthier.

Some will choose to give up a food they love. Some will only give up meat on Fridays. Some will get creative in what they sacrifice. For me, I plan to give up the most valuable thing I can; my time. If anybody wants to join the bandwagon, I have room for everyone. My time will be spent reading more of Scripture, more prayer, and taking care of those around me.

Whatever you choose, give up one thing that lowers self-indulgence. It might be food, it can be entertainment, it can be constant noise, it can be unnecessary spending. Choose one prayer that creates silence. “Into the inner room” (tameion), even if that inner room is a chair in the corner of your bedroom, ten minutes with your phone facedown. Choose one act of mercy that directly helps someone in need, in a way that can be felt. Then add one act of repair, one apology, one confession, one debt you address, one conversation where you tell the truth with gentleness. Remember what James, the brother of our Lord, once said “faith without works is dead.”

We are commanded to protect the vulnerable and love those whom Christ identified with. This season of Lent is a time to remember Christ’s words, that this is a year of the Lord’s favor. A jubilee year, where debts are forgiven and slaves set free. This is a season where we are reminded that we are to love justice, be kind to others, and walk humbly with our God.

That is Lent. A clean heart (lev tahor), a right spirit (ruach nachon), reconciliation (katallage), almsgiving (eleemosyne), secret prayer (tameion), a fast that breaks yokes (motah), and bread shared (paros lachmecha).

And the promise is not small. “Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer” (Isaiah 58). The psalm promises joy restored. Paul promises grace that holds under affliction. Jesus promises the Father who sees in secret.

During this season of Lent, I wish to offer my own prayers to my Home State of Minnesota. We are still being occupied by Federal Agents. This Lenten season will be especially difficult to some, they may have given up something far more precious; a loved one’s presence due to immigration enforcement. I also offer my prayers to those who are experiencing burnout, depression, and/or anxiety with what is happening. It may come as a surprise, but Clerics experience these things too. It is a blessing because we can empathize with our parishioners, but a curse too. A curse, not because we don’t wish to understand, but rather because we want to be strong for our parishes.

It’s okay to not be okay, but do not neglect yourself or attempt to pray away mental health crises. If your mental health isn’t doing great, especially with what has been happening this year, I totally understand. I would urge you not to participate in Lent, not because you can’t, but because you have already given up something far more costly. Lent is when we remember that Jesus spent 40 days in the desert, fasting despite temptation. If you feel inclined to participate in Lent, might I suggest giving up what is causing your stress; the news, social media stories, or TikTok stories perhaps? I wish you all safety this Lenten season and know that I am praying for all of you. I ask at this time that we observe a moment of silence for our two newest saints, Renee Good and Alex Pretti and that we continue to pray for their families; especially during this season of sacrifice

(Moment of Silence)

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May this season make us honest. May it make us merciful. May it make us quiet before God. May it make us brave enough to do the next right thing today.