In a world marked by division, uncertainty and fatigue, Lent can feel like an outdated ritual – a quiet season of reflection in a noisy, fast-moving age. And yet, perhaps it has never been more relevant.
At its heart, Lent is not about deprivation for its own sake. It’s about choosing to pause, to reflect, and to ask deeper questions about how we live, what we value, and how we treat one another.
In a fractured world, that pause matters.
A season that invites us to slow down
Modern life rewards speed, certainty and constant reaction. Lent invites the opposite: stillness, humility and self-examination. It creates space to step back from outrage cycles and ask what kind of people, and society are we becoming.
This slowing down is not passive. It is purposeful. It allows us to notice what has become normalised; inequality, exclusion, burnout, and the quiet erosion of dignity for many.
Lent reminds us that reflection is not retreat, it is preparation.
From sacrifice to solidarity
Traditionally, Lent is associated with sacrifice. But in a contemporary context, sacrifice is less about giving something up and more about choosing something deeper.
It might be sacrificing comfort to listen to voices we don’t usually hear.
Sacrificing certainty to sit with complexity.
Sacrificing indifference in favour of compassion.
In this way, Lent becomes a practice of solidarity. It reconnects us with the idea that our lives are intertwined and that what happens to others matters, even when it is inconvenient or distant from our own experience.
Solidarity, however, is not a slogan. It is a journey. It requires us to move beyond assumptions and into relationship.
When we develop new programs, the process does not begin with solutions. It begins with listening. In partnership with the Ministry of Education in Timor-Leste, the municipalities that are most in need of support, are identified, but before any initiative moves forward, time is taken to sit with communities themselves. Conversations unfold in focus groups, in one-on-one interviews, and in shared reflection. The guiding principle is simple: don’t ask the question if you are not prepared to listen.
Listening, in this sense, is not a formality. It is an act of respect.
As Charlotte Atherton, Quality and Impact Manager, explains, the work depends on “deep listening and appreciating what you hear.” After gathering insights, space is deliberately created to reflect. Programs are shaped not from pre-set plans, but from what communities have voiced. Decisions are then shared back, ensuring they make sense collectively.
Filomeno, Parents Project Coordinator, reflected on the design phase in Timor-Leste,
“Overall, the experience strengthened my confidence in participatory design approaches. It left me feeling more grounded, more connected to the communities involved, and more committed to implementing a project that truly responds to their needs rather than just following an initial plan.”
The image often used to describe this approach is simple but powerful: the program is like a feast. Mary MacKillop Today provides the table, the community brings the chairs, and government partners bring the food. Everyone has a role. Everyone has a place.
This is what solidarity looks like in practice, not acting for communities, but working with them. Not imposing answers but building them together.
And perhaps that is one of the most needed forms of sacrifice today: setting aside our impulse to control outcomes, and choosing instead the humility to listen first.
Justice, dignity and the long view
Lent also asks us to look honestly at injustice – not just as a concept, but as a lived reality for millions of people.
Access to education, opportunity and safety is still shaped too heavily by geography, income and circumstance. These are not short-term problems with quick fixes. They require patience, commitment and long-term partnership.
The Lenten journey reminds us that meaningful change is rarely instant. Like the season itself, it unfolds slowly through listening, learning and consistent action over time.
Why hope still has a place
Perhaps the most powerful gift of Lent is that it does not end in despair. It leads toward Easter, toward renewal and hope.
In a world that often feels stuck between crisis and exhaustion, this matters. Lent affirms that suffering is real and must be acknowledged but it does not have the final word. Hope is not naïve optimism; it is the belief that transformation is possible when people choose to act with courage and compassion.
Walking forward together
Lent still matters because it invites us to become more attentive, more generous and more committed to one another.
In a fractured world, that invitation is not outdated, it is essential.
As we move through this season, the question Lent leaves us with is not simply what will I give up? But rather: how will I walk forward and with whom?
We invite you to walk with Saint Mary MacKillop this Lent by downloading our free Lenten and Holy Week Reflection Guides.
