Before Easter breaks, build an interior pyramid

By Fr Robert Christo

Vicar for Communications

Lent is not a diet. Lent is not a farce. It is not simply ‘no Calypso, no meat, no sweets, no alcohol.’ It is not a seasonal mood swing. Lent is serious structure.

The word ‘Lent’ comes from the Old English ‘lencten’, meaning ‘springtime’—the lengthening of days. Spiritually, it is the season when light begins to stretch again inside the soul to welcome Easter. A simple way to remember:

L – Let go

E – Enter the desert, no excesses

N – Notice the needy

T – Turn back and be transformed

Lent lengthens the light within us.

Now imagine a pyramid: strong base, three firm sides. If one side is missing, the whole structure collapses. So, too, with the three classic Lenten disciplines—prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. You cannot choose one or two. The pyramid stands stable only when all three are engaged.

These are not Catholic inventions. They come directly from Jewish tradition. Jesus Himself inherited them as a faithful Jew. In ancient Israel, prayer shaped covenant with God; fasting disciplined desire; almsgiving expressed justice toward the poor. They defined right relationships—with God, with neighbour, and with self.

The Church did not invent this path. She received and fulfilled it and gradually structured the 40-day Lenten season in the early centuries of Christianity, especially by the fourth century. It endured because it works.

But here is the crucial shift: Lent is about intention, not attention. Interior, not exterior.

Jesus warns us not to pray to be seen, not to fast with gloomy faces, not to give alms for applause.

The danger is subtle—performing holiness rather than becoming holy—set apart, salty and distinctive not blended in or ‘normal’. In a culture that rewards visibility, Lent quietly calls us back to authenticity. It is a desert season (away from diversions) meant to expose the hidden pains, idols and demons within.

St Augustine reminds us, “We are and become what we love.” And our hearts will not rest until they rest in God. Lent asks: ‘What truly holds my affection?’

Prayer—the centre of gravity

Prayer re-centres the soul. In the early monasteries and the Byzantine tradition, prayer was described as the raising of heart and mind to God. It shifts the centre of gravity from self to Christ. Jesus says, “Abide in me and I in you.” Prayer is that abiding.

A simple, ancient practice remains powerful: the Jesus Prayer. Daily practise this: Breathe in slowly: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God.” Breathe out: “Have mercy on me, a sinner.” It engages mind, will, and heart. It is inhaling grace and exhaling ego. Inhale Christ. Exhale toxicity.

This Lent, do not only give up—pick up. Daily Scripture. A weekend Mass and, not or, an extra weekday Mass. Eucharistic Adoration. A rosary bead in your pocket, not for display, but for centring.

Fasting – reordering inner hunger

Fasting is not punishment. It is reordering hunger. Abstinence means avoiding a particular food, such as meat on Fridays. Fasting focuses on quantity—smaller or no portions, perhaps skipping a meal, simplifying comforts. What is saved should be given to the common good, especially the poor and vulnerable.

If we are honest, hunger for attention, pleasure, and instant gratification often dominates the soul. Fasting interrupts that pattern. It teaches that not every desire deserves obedience.

Caribbean humour makes the point: some of us can fast from meat but not from our blue screens and addictions to dopamine. Low battery or no Wi-Fi feel like crisis. Lowering ego—that is the greater fast. Fasting creates interior space so deeper spiritual hunger can emerge. When the inner little gods fade away, the real God arises.

Almsgiving—love made visible

Almsgiving widens the heart. Place a small ‘poor box’ in your home or office. Leave an empty full plate set on the table as a reminder of those without. Each sacrifice—a skipped coffee, a simpler purchase (lower brand or high end)—becomes relief for someone else.

Visit the sick. Connect with annoying other(s). Call someone who is lonely. Choose the less expensive brand and give the difference away.

St John Chrysostom taught that if you have two cloaks, one belongs to the person who has none. Clean the closet both spiritually and physically. Once necessity is met, the surplus is entrusted to us for the sake of others.

In a society marked by accumulation, hoarding, and competition, almsgiving reminds us that the Body of Christ is interconnected. When one member suffers, all suffer. Calypsonian Shadow crooned: “feel d’ feeling”.

One pyramid, one heart, best Lent

If we only pray, spirituality can become detached from daily life. Become heavenly good, earthly rotten.

If we only fast, we risk becoming rigid or self-focused.

If we only give, we may burn out or quietly feel superior.

But together, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving form a balanced pyramid of right relationships. They ground us in love of God, humility about self, and compassion toward neighbour.

Lent cuts through self-absorption and restores structure to the soul. Ashes publicly remind us that we are mortal—never that Carnival sins are absolved. The disciplines remind us that we are made for holiness.

Let intention replace attention. Let love replace performance. And when Easter dawns—the very reason for Lent—may what rises within us not be religious display, but hearts rightly ordered toward God and neighbour.

And yes, we shall rise with Him.