Friday after Ash Wednesday
20 February 2026
Fasting that leads to relationship
Today’s readings place us right at the heart of what Lent is meant to be—and just as importantly,
what it is not.
The first reading from Isaiah is sharp,
almost uncomfortable.
The people are fasting.
They are performing religious acts.
They are doing what looks, on the surface, like devotion.
And yet they are frustrated with God.
They ask, in effect,
“Why are we fasting if you do not see it?”
God’s response is blunt.
Through the prophet Isaiah,
the Lord exposes the gap between outward religious practice
and inward conversion.
The people fast,
but they continue to exploit workers, ignore injustice, and fight among themselves.
Their fasting has become disconnected from their lives.
It is ritual without transformation.
And so God redefines fasting.
True fasting, the Lord says,
is not simply about abstaining from food.
It is about loosening the bonds of injustice,
setting the oppressed free,
sharing bread with the hungry,
sheltering the homeless,
clothing the naked,
and refusing to turn away from those who belong to us.
In other words,
fasting that pleases God changes how we live with others
and for others.
Isaiah is not dismissing fasting. He is rescuing it.
He is reminding the people that religious discipline is meant to open the heart,
not harden it.
When fasting does not lead to mercy,
it has missed its purpose.
Pope Francis said in a Lenten message once,
“Fasting that does not lead to sharing with the poor
is a false fast,
one that God does not want.”
The promise that follows is striking.
If the people live this way
—if their worship shapes their compassion—
then light will break forth like the dawn,
wounds will be quickly healed,
and the Lord will answer when they cry out.
We see that God is not distant.
He is waiting for a heart that is aligned with His own.
The Gospel helps us understand why this matters.
In Matthew,
the disciples of John the Baptist approach Jesus with a sincere question:
Why do we fast,
and the Pharisees fast,
but your disciples do not?
It is a question rooted in religious expectation.
Fasting was a normal, even essential, spiritual practice.
Notice, Jesus does not reject fasting.
Instead, He places it in the context of relationship.
He uses the image of a wedding.
When the bridegroom is present, He says,
it is not a time for mourning.
There will be a time for fasting,
but that time comes when the bridegroom is taken away.
In Jewish wedding custom,
the bridegroom would come to claim his bride,
but then he would be taken away for a time to prepare a place for her,
often returning to his father’s house.
During that period of separation,
the bride waited, watched, and longed for his return,
never knowing the exact day or hour.
That waiting was marked not by celebration,
but by seriousness and preparation.
When Jesus says the bridegroom will be “taken away,”
He is speaking in those terms.
His death, resurrection, and ascension will begin that period of longing for the Church.
Fasting, then, becomes the posture of the bride
—not a legal requirement,
but an expression of desire.
With that image,
Jesus reveals something crucial:
fasting is not an end in itself.
It is a response to the presence
—or the absence—of God.
It flows from love, longing, and desire for communion.
The Pharisees fasted because the law required it.
John’s disciples fasted as a sign of preparation and repentance. But Jesus’ disciples are with Him.
They are living in the presence of the One they have been waiting for.
Their fasting will come later,
shaped by love rather than obligation.
Taken together,
Isaiah and the Gospel teach us the same lesson:
authentic fasting always flows from relationship
and leads to transformation.
Lent, then, is not about proving something to God.
It is not about earning favor
or checking spiritual boxes.
God sees far beyond appearances.
Lent is about clearing space
—space for God to act,
space for our hearts to soften,
space for mercy to take root.
Isaiah warns us that it is possible to perform religious acts
and still remain unchanged.
Jesus reminds us that spiritual discipline only makes sense
when it grows out of love for Him.
That is why the Church places these readings before us at the very beginning of Lent.
They ask us to examine not only what we are doing,
but why we are doing it.
Are our sacrifices making us more patient,
more generous,
more attentive to the suffering around us?
Are they drawing us closer to Christ
—or simply making us feel religious?
Are they loosening the grip of sin and self-centeredness,
or just rearranging habits?
True fasting opens our eyes.
True fasting frees others.
True fasting creates room for God.
If our Lent leads us there,
then Isaiah’s promise becomes real:
light breaks forth,
healing comes,
and when we cry out,
the Lord answers, “Here I am.”
That is the Lent God desires
—not performance, but conversion; not appearance, but love.