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Homily:
1st Sunday of Lent – Cycle B
Two weeks ago I was off making my canonical retreat (that
is, my retreat that is required by canon law) down at Saint Meinrad, where I
went to seminary. It was good to be back
down there as I was able to connect with a lot of the seminary staff and the
monks whom I knew when I was a seminarian.
It was also good because I was able to spend time doing some hiking
around the area, which was one of my favorite activities during my time there.
Saint Meinrad is located in a very rural setting in
southern Indiana, which is actually much more wooded and hilly than here in the
“northern plains”. Thus, a hike down any
of the back roads around the seminary will provide you with a lot of solitude
along with a challenging hike. Long
Johnnytown Road was one of my favorite roads to take and so I made it a point
to hike that road once again. The day
that I went out the weather was less than favorable. It had turned quite cold and the wind was
blowing hard from the northwest. Thankfully,
the road is surrounded by woods, for the most part, and so, except for a few
stretches of road, I didn’t have to face the wind. It is a tough road to hike under any
conditions, but that day’s conditions made it a degree or two more difficult
(perhaps even more so because I’ve been living here in the flatlands for so
long now). It was so tough, in fact,
that at times I wondered whether or not I was going to make it back. I did of course and, although I was tired, I
felt refreshed for having made it. As I
read and reflected on today’s Gospel reading, Jesus’ experience of being in the
desert reminded me of this.
In the Gospel we heard how Jesus was driven into the desert
and that he remained there for forty days where he was tempted by Satan and dwelt
among the wild beasts while angels, nonetheless, ministered to him. As it is for us today, the desert is a harsh
place: a place of solitude in which you are exposed to extreme conditions. Jesus was driven into the harsh physical
conditions of the desert and had to face harsh spiritual and emotional
conditions as well: the temptations of Satan and the fear of being attacked by
a wild animal. Nonetheless, he went
willingly, driven by the Spirit who had just anointed him after his baptism in
the Jordan River. He emerged from that
time of testing more deeply conscious of the truth about himself and his
mission. We see this because the next
thing that the Gospel tells us is that Jesus began his mission of preaching;
literally taking up where John the Baptist left off by proclaiming “The kingdom
of God is at hand. Repent and believe in
the gospel.”
Lent, for us, is meant to mimic this desert experience of
Jesus. It calls us to leave off what we
are comfortable with and to be “driven into the desert”, so to speak—the
solitude inside of ourselves—in order to confront the demons and wild beasts
within us—which are our sinful inclinations and untamed passions—so as to
emerge more deeply conscious of the truth about ourselves and our mission. And what is this, but a call to prayer: a
call to confront the truth about ourselves before God and to allow him to show
us the deeper truth of who we are in Him.
Because we are bodily creatures, however, this “desert
experience” must also include a physical aspect. Thus, we create a physical “desert” for
ourselves by fasting: by giving up certain comforts and pleasures so as to
create the conditions in which we might confront our sinful inclinations and
untamed passions more readily.
Ironically, all of this introspection is meant to lead us outside of
ourselves: to encounter the real suffering of our brothers and sisters around
us—our neighbors—and to work to relieve their suffering through the means that
have been given to us. Through
almsgiving we enact our mission to proclaim that the kingdom of God is at hand,
the kingdom in which the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. Thus almsgiving, in a way, becomes the fruit
of our Lenten desert experience.
The American poet, Henry David Thoreau once advised “Take
long walks in stormy weather or through deep snow in the fields and woods, if
you would keep your spirits up. Deal
with brute nature. Be cold and hungry
and weary.” I believe that this quote
speaks to something very true: life is difficult and if we try to mask that
fact by filling our lives with comforts and distractions then we’ll never truly
live. After that hike I took while on
retreat I was “cold and hungry and weary”, but refreshed for having done it. I dealt with “brute nature”, which caused me
to confront some of the demons within myself, and I emerged with a spirit more
deeply aware of the truth about myself and of the mission that I have been
given.
My brothers and sisters, Lent invites us to face the
reality of ourselves—with all of its demons and wild beasts—as well as the
truth of who we are—children of God and coheirs with Christ to His Kingdom—so
as to renew us in baptismal faith that we might go forth to proclaim the
greatest of all truths with renewed vigor: that Jesus Christ is risen and that
the kingdom of God is truly at hand!
Therefore, let us not be afraid to go into the deserts within ourselves
to confront the demons of our sinful inclinations and the wild beasts of our
untamed passions; and there to call on the angels to minister to us; and let us
not be afraid to then go out into the deserts in our community to encounter the
marginalized: those who we are afraid to meet because of what they might demand
of us. For there, in these encounters,
the truth about ourselves will become known and our mission will become
clear. Then, having done this, we will
emerge to experience once again (or perhaps for the first time) the true joy
that Easter brings: the joy that even now we are invited to experience here, in
this Eucharist.
Given at All Saints Parish:
Logansport, IN – February 21st & 2nd, 2015
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