Today begins Our Lady's Lent.
I have been trying to find the origin of this practice for the past 3
years to no avail. A Franciscan friend, however, shared with me that St.
Francis of Assisi kept this Lenten Fast from the Feast of the Most
Precious Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the Feast of the Assumption.
He also suggested that St. Peter Damian, an Umbrian, might have brought
this practice about with the reform of clergy and religious during the
11th century in Italy. Another Umbrian kept this fast, as well, one of
my favorites Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows. It was from his life I
first learned of this period of penance. He would abstain from fruits,
his favorite, during these summer months.
How
fitting it is for the Feast to fall on a Wednesday this year. The Lent
begins without the mark of Ashes. Most will not keep this Lent. It will
be a hidden Lent, a humble Lent, in imitation of Our Lady of Humility.
Join me if you are able. We have much to pray for. In these turbulent
times, let us focus primarily on our friendship with Christ! We don't
want to knock and hear, "I know thee not!"
Hymn from Lauds of the Feast of the Most Precious Blood
Hail, holy wounds of Jesus, hail,
Sweet pledges of the saving rood,
Whence flow the streams that never fail,
The purple streams of his dear blood.
Brighter than brightest stars ye show,
Than sweetest rose your scent more rare,
No Indian gem may match your glow,
No honey's taste with yours compare.
Portals ye are to that dear home
Wherein our wearied souls may hide,
Whereto no angry foe can come,
The heart of Jesus crucified.
What countless stripes our Jesus bore,
All naked left in Pilate's hall!
From his torn flesh how red a shower
Did round his sacred person fall!
His beauteous brow, oh, shame and grief,
By the sharp thorny crown is riven;
Through hands and feet, without relief,
The cruel nails are rudely driven.
But when for our poor sakes he died,
A willing priest by love subdued,
The soldier's lance transfixed his side,
Forth flowed the water and the blood.
In full atonement of our guilt,
Careless of self, the Saviour trod—
E'en till his heart's best blood was spilt—
The wine-press of the wrath of God.
Come, bathe you in the healing flood,
All ye who mourn, by sin opprest;
Your only hope is Jesus' blood,
His sacred heart your only rest.
All praise to him, the Eternal Son,
At God's right hand enthroned above,
Whose blood our full redemption won,
Whose Spirit seals the gift of love.
Amen.
V. Being justified by the Blood of Christ.
R. We shall be saved from wrath through Him.
Sweet pledges of the saving rood,
Whence flow the streams that never fail,
The purple streams of his dear blood.
Brighter than brightest stars ye show,
Than sweetest rose your scent more rare,
No Indian gem may match your glow,
No honey's taste with yours compare.
Portals ye are to that dear home
Wherein our wearied souls may hide,
Whereto no angry foe can come,
The heart of Jesus crucified.
What countless stripes our Jesus bore,
All naked left in Pilate's hall!
From his torn flesh how red a shower
Did round his sacred person fall!
His beauteous brow, oh, shame and grief,
By the sharp thorny crown is riven;
Through hands and feet, without relief,
The cruel nails are rudely driven.
But when for our poor sakes he died,
A willing priest by love subdued,
The soldier's lance transfixed his side,
Forth flowed the water and the blood.
In full atonement of our guilt,
Careless of self, the Saviour trod—
E'en till his heart's best blood was spilt—
The wine-press of the wrath of God.
Come, bathe you in the healing flood,
All ye who mourn, by sin opprest;
Your only hope is Jesus' blood,
His sacred heart your only rest.
All praise to him, the Eternal Son,
At God's right hand enthroned above,
Whose blood our full redemption won,
Whose Spirit seals the gift of love.
Amen.
V. Being justified by the Blood of Christ.
R. We shall be saved from wrath through Him.
Poor freezing soul, from the cold breath of the world,
come warm up near the Heart of Jesus
(Image Source: holycardheaven.blogspot.com.br)
