Homily for 1st Sunday of Lent

Homily for 1st Sunday of Lent  Feb 26 2012

          Well, here we are again. Seems like the New Year has just begun, and we look at the calendar & it is the first Sunday of Lent. We came for ashes on Wednesday, but are we fully involved in the season?

What are our thoughts as we approach this Holy season? Are they somber, yet reflective thoughts, of how we might, with God’s help, change ourselves into a better person?

We have always thought of it as a rather solemn season, preparing us for the joys of Easter, but is that only way we can experience it?

 We all know that Lent is regarded as a typically somber and subdued time, a time for introspection, a time for reflection on where our life is going, on how our relationship with Jesus can be improved. It’s a time when we see violet color at Mass, when we don’t sing “Alleluia” or the Gloria. But in spite of these outward signs, there is still time during Lent to be joyous and happy. The preface before the Eucharistic prater addresses the Father and says, “Each year you give this joyful season when we prepare to celebrate the paschal mystery with heart and mind renewed. The preface for Lent II says, “The great season of grace is your gift to your family to renew us in spirit.”

          Do you think of Lent as a joyous season, or as a Gift? I mean, how can fasting and penance be joyful?

          Our fasting with its accompanying hunger should remind us of our hunger for God. It’s a way that we pray with our bodies as well as our minds. It shouldn’t make us irritable and grumpy.

          Our spiritual director in diaconate formation tells the story of how he and his fellow Jesuits encountered Lent one year. They had all made great sacrifices during the season. At the conclusion of the Easter Vigil, they gathered in their own upper room for a welcome glass of brandy, and reflected on the just concluded Lenten season. One Jesuit remarked, “You know I’m really proud that I gave up smoking for all 40 days of Lent.” To which all the others responded in unison, “We know so well because we had to live with you!”

          I’m reminded of an article a few years ago in Newsweek, which told of a man who put all his time and energy into running a homeless shelter in the nation’s capital. The reporter asked him what that experience meant to him. His answer was, “Well, I don’t like it, but darn it, somebody’s got to do it!”  I mean, if your heart isn’t in it, why bother?

If our Lenten sacrifice will make us irritable and grumpy, we should find some other way to get spiritually focused. Spiritual events that don’t lead us to greater charity are useless. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, without love we are nothing.  If we cannot become a more charitable person, our faith, knowledge, and even our martyrdom, should we be so called, is nothing.

          True fasting and prayer should make us more aware that nothing on earth can ultimately satisfy us. We are made for union with God and while things of the earth make take away the hunger pains for a while, they ultimately don’t truly satisfy. Our physical hunger should remind us of our spiritual hunger We are, as St Augustine wrote, made for God, so our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.

Today’s gospel is short and to the point, as are many of Mark’s gospels. “Repent and believe in the good news.” Mark tells us of Jesus’ own encounter with evil and the fact that he did not struggle alone. When Jesus was tempted by the devil, he had the Holy Spirit to guide and inspire him, as well as the angels to support and strengthen him. From that encounter, Jesus emerges to announce the reign of God, which is to be welcomed in repentance and faith. Today we are recruited once again in the struggle against evil. To that end, we acknowledge our responsibility for it and our willingness to work toward our own transformation.

         Upon leaving Mass today, a lot of people will be asking each other: “What are you giving up for Lent?” Good question. But I like to remind myself that the first word of “giving up” is giving. It is not truly a sacrifice unless it is also, somehow, a gift. An offering of self, with no expectation of getting anything in return.
On Ash Wednesday, the prophet Joel told us: “Rend your hearts.” Open them up for the world. That is how we should spend the next 40 days. That is where penance begins.

      Penance means more than just prayer and fasting, devotions and dieting. It is also a hardship.  What are some of the modern hardships we find difficult to bear?

      Well, try this: spend a few moments respectfully listening to someone you’re not fond of– or somebody that no one else likes, either. Everyone has heard of an adolescent who doesn’t fit in. At meals, no one would sit with him-- except for one other student, who went out of his way to spend just a few minutes quietly eating with him, and letting him know that he still mattered.

     That student was being Christ to another. Each of us, I think, can learn from that example.

    Or if that seems like too much, try this: Pray for a stranger – or an enemy. Skip an expensive dinner and send the money to a Catholic charity. Take time to write a letter to a soldier overseas. Visit the sick, the aging, the shut-in. Light a candle for all those who are lost, frightened, uncertain or alone. Buy lunch for the homeless person you see walking the streets every morning. Say a rosary for peace.

    In short, begin this season of giving up…by giving.  Plant these small seeds of sacrifice. Tend them. Nurture them. And then let the roots take hold.

    And, in time, grace will grow. You may be astounded at the minor miracles that have blossomed by Easter morning. If we truly live the Lenten season as it is meant to be, we should see a difference in ourselves.

     And if we do, remember that it is all grace, amazing grace.  And it grows out of sacrifice, and prayer.