Lent: ‘remember you are dust, and unto dust, you shall return’

Inside the The Chiesa di Santa Maria Immacolata. Skeletons adorn the walls and ceilings of the crypt, like 3D paintings.

On Rome’s elegant via Veneto is la Chiesa di Santa Maria Immacolata, the church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception.

At first, it seems like any other in the Eternal City, yet this 17th-century church harbours one distinct feature, and that is her crypt, not decorated with frescos or gold but… the bones of almost 4,000 Franciscan Capuchin Friars.

Now, to some, it seems strange, macabre at best. And perhaps, at first glance, they’re right. Yet soon, a comforting, even peaceful realisation sets in, and there slowly emerges an acknowledgement of one’s finitude, oddly casting out anxiety and fear as one is compelled to contemplate a joyful truth: ‘I am made for more’.

On Ash Wednesday, we begin our Lenten journey with the words: ‘remember you are dust, and unto dust, you shall return’ (Gen 3:19) and ‘repent and believe in the Gospel’ (Mk 1:14). And almost like a warning, akin to the ‘bone church’ on via Veneto, these sacramentals recall the unavoidable truth of our mortality – calling us to be transformed… and how desperately freeing that is!

The truth of one’s mortality, of course, should never frighten us, for fear reveals we have not yet fully encountered the face and merciful heart of Jesus made flesh.

The 40 days of Lent, towards the Light and Hope of Easter, echo the forty years in the desert where God’s people prepared to enter the Promised Land. As well as the forty days Jesus spent in the desert before his public ministry.

Lent is given then as a season of preparation and reminder. We are made for more and Christ gives us what we need to enter into that transformation.

It is a season of training and ‘metanoia’, a word literally meaning a ‘turning around’ of one’s mind and heart, the invitation which opens Mark’s Gospel (1:15).

But why prepare? We prepare for so much in our lives; dinners, work presentations, sporting engagements. Yet seldom do we prepare our hearts for the eternal.

The Chiesa di Santa Maria Immacolata, or the Church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, sits at 27 Via Veneto in Rome

Preparation takes time, focus, and intentionality. Preparation takes discipline. So with the graced practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, the Church accompanies us on the journey, giving us the necessary tools to plough the soil of the heart and receive the Seed of God’s transforming Word.

Through Lenten disciplines, we grow in a greater love of God (prayer), a more generous love of neighbour (almsgiving), and a truer love of ourselves (fasting).

Daily, Jesus calls us to leave comfort, which quickly becomes a place of indifference and spiritual languor. He bids us leave old ways behind, and embark on the journey which promises the garden of Easter.

Lent is a period then to tune our hearts and minds back to our purpose. That the human being does have a goal and an end. That we have a Home. And that Home is Christ.

Deeper in the crypt is an image of Mary and the Child Jesus saving souls from purgatory. Further on, surrounded by skulls, is an image of Lazarus raised from death. The message is clear… we are made for life. Eternal life. These bones are temporary.

Friends, we recommit ourselves this Lent to building our lives on the three loves of God, neighbour and self so that, setting out on the journey, we may one day embrace its completion and the fullness of Life.

I wish you a blessed, forming and so challenging Lent. And may we never forget: “the Lord will raise those bones (Ez 37:3). For that dust is not discarded, but restored to life in the One who is Life Himself.