Awaiting the Great Victory

February 15, 2024 at 12:08 a.m.

I think we can all agree that one of the best parts of Lent is that the NCAA March Madness Tournament falls within its forty days, and that one of the worst parts of Lent is that we can’t eat wings while watching the Friday games. I say this (mostly) in jest, but I do count down the days to this sporting event months and months before it begins. It gives me an extreme level of joy and excitement while bringing back some of the greatest memories from my childhood. But Lent also contains some of the most thrilling liturgical days of the year, including its culmination in the Triduum – Holy Thursday through Easter Sunday. The Triduum was one of my favorite times of the year as a kid because my dad employed his rule of no electronics, no music, and no loud activities from Thursday evening through Sunday morning. This meant that my brothers and I would read our books, pray, go to the special Masses and services as a family, perform the Stations of the Cross, play every sport imaginable, and invent new games both outdoors and indoors. We loved this time together, and admittedly struggled most with the “no loud activities” part.

One year, the unthinkable happened: March Madness fell exactly on the Triduum. This was the most exhilarating problem. It was my two favorite things coinciding with implications of epic proportions. My brother and I resolved to convince my dad to let us watch some of the games. His initial “no” crushed us. My brother and I went back to the drawing board. We went on his computer and fastidiously created a PowerPoint presentation explaining how God had ordained College Basketball as a gift unsuited for dismissal. My dad – a theology teacher and avid basketball fan – caved, and what ensued was one of the greatest four days of my adolescence, and perhaps my entire life.

You see… anything God creates has beauty and goodness. Who doesn’t love planning the outcomes of contests, keeping track of the results, celebrating wins and grieving losses, all for a shot at the grand prize for correctly guessing the champion, with no real risk involved? But while this may work for filling out a March Madness bracket, it can become a problem when we see our Lenten promises in the same way. Now that we’ve arrived at the first Sunday of Lent, how many of us are already doing this exact thing to ourselves? We make a list of things to give up, things to do, prayers to keep, and habits to form or break… and then we check it feverishly only to celebrate each day where these go perfectly and beat ourselves up for the days where we miss on a few, offering ourselves nowhere near the amount of mercy we would give someone else in our exact position.

All of my father’s “no’s” during the Triduum weren’t so that my siblings and I stopped doing certain things. They were in place so that we started doing more important things. The same goes for this Lent, as it remains in its beginning stage. Each “no” that we practice is an invitation to a massive “yes.” And it’s ok if we’re not four-for-four right now.

That “yes” is still waiting and ultimately rests in Christ’s friendship and love, which is always ready for us.

Disconnect so that you can connect. Retreat so that you can advance. Abstain so that you can partake. And when you falter, remember that one loss means nothing when the greatest victory of all time awaits us at the end of this sacred season.