The first Saturday after the imposition of ashes gathers into itself both severity and consolation. The Church, still clothed in violet and sobriety, places before us the prophet Isaias (58:9–14) and the Gospel of the storm-tossed disciples (Mark 6:47–56). The one speaks of the fast pleasing to God; the other reveals the Lord who comes in the fourth watch of the night. Together they teach us what Lent truly is: not mere abstinence, but divine visitation.
I. The Fast That Looses Bonds
Through Isaias, the Lord rebukes a hollow fasting. It is not enough to bow the head like a bulrush if the heart remains hard. The fast acceptable to God is this: “to loose the bands of wickedness… to deal thy bread to the hungry… when thou shalt pour out thy soul to the hungry, then shall thy light rise up in darkness.”
St. John Chrysostom, preaching on fasting, insists that abstinence from food must be joined to abstinence from sin: “What good is it if we abstain from flesh but devour our brother?” The prophet’s words echo this golden-mouthed admonition. True fasting is mercy enacted; it is charity that costs something.
St. Augustine deepens the theme: fasting restrains the flesh so that charity may be inflamed. The outward discipline is medicinal; it makes room for grace. Thus the prophet promises, “Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall hear.” When the heart is uncluttered by selfishness, prayer ascends like clear incense.
The Sabbath promise at the passage’s end is especially striking: “If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath… then shalt thou delight in the Lord.” The Fathers often saw in the Sabbath not merely a day, but the rest of the soul in God. St. Gregory the Great interprets the Sabbath spiritually: when the soul ceases from its own works—its pride, its restless self-assertion—it begins to delight in the Lord’s work within it.
Thus the Lenten fast prepares us not only for Easter joy but for interior Sabbath: the quiet where God speaks.
II. The Fourth Watch of the Night
The Gospel places us in darkness. The disciples are alone on the sea; the wind is contrary. Our Lord is absent to their sight, though not to His knowledge. St. Mark notes with deliberate tenderness: “Seeing them labouring in rowing.”
St. Bede the Venerable comments that the boat signifies the Church, tossed on the waves of persecution and temptation, while Christ appears absent. Yet He watches from the mountain of His divinity. He comes, not at once, but in the “fourth watch”—that is, in the fullness of time, when human strength is exhausted.
St. Augustine sees in the contrary wind the resistance of this present world, and in the sea the instability of human affairs. We row; we struggle; we grow weary. But the Lord comes walking upon that which terrifies us. What overwhelms man is beneath the feet of God.
When He says, “It is I, be not afraid,” the Greek Ego eimi resounds with divine authority. The Fathers frequently connect this with the revelation of the divine Name. The One who spoke to Moses from the bush now speaks from the midst of the storm.
And immediately, St. Mark tells us, they were utterly astonished, “for they understood not concerning the loaves; for their heart was hardened.” Here is a Lenten warning. We may witness miracles and yet fail to perceive their meaning if the heart is dull. Fasting, rightly undertaken, softens the heart so that we may understand.
III. From Fast to Faith
The prophet promises: “The Lord will give thee rest continually… and thou shalt be like a watered garden.” In the Gospel, when Christ enters the boat, the wind ceases. The exterior storm reflects the interior one. The fast that purifies the heart disposes it for the Lord’s entrance; and when He enters, there is great calm.
St. Leo the Great teaches that Lenten discipline is ordered toward Paschal transformation. It is not self-improvement, but participation in Christ. As the crowds in Gennesaret touch even the hem of His garment and are healed, so we, in these penitential days, stretch out the hand of faith through prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. Even the hem suffices, if touched with humility.
Conclusion
On this Sabbato post Cineres, the Church gently instructs us:
Fast—but fast with mercy.
Row—but do not despair.
Wait—but with faith.
If we loose the bonds of injustice and pour out our soul for others, our light shall rise in darkness. And when the night is deepest, the Lord will come—treading upon the waves, speaking peace into the storm, and bringing us into the blessed rest that is Himself.
“Then shalt thou delight in the Lord.” May this be our Lenten grace.