Deserts, Meteors, Popes and Lenten Decisions

A lot has happened since we were together last Sunday.

We had a dramatic, rare meteor event in Russia—something never before witnessed by so many.

So extraordinary, it led Vladimir Putin to say, Thank God [there was no loss of life].

We had a dramatic, rare papal event in Rome—something no one has seen in 600 years.

Less dramatically, we had Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent.

Our forty days of prayer, fasting and almsgiving in preparation for Easter.

Today's Gospel tells us of Jesus' forty days of preparation, in the desert.

We don’t have much desert around here.

Many of us probably aren’t too familiar with the desert.

A couple years ago I spent a week in Palm Desert, California.

We drove through some pretty barren areas to get there.

But Palm Desert itself was more like a great Oasis.

A modern city with all the trappings.

Traffic, shopping malls, chain restaurants, hotels and gated communities.

But it was in the midst of a desert.

And, along with a lot of sprinkler-fed greenery,

It had some plant and animal life we non-desert folks don’t see every day.

I took a walk around the hotel grounds with my two-year-old grandson.

And introduced him to some of those wonders.

Lizards, roadrunners, desert flowers and cactus.

We saw one brightly colored, particularly eye-catching plant.

And we both touched its flowers.

No problem—until we touched something else; then we were both in pain.

With tiny, short, hair-like, almost invisible needles in our finger tips.

We didn’t even feel them going in.

But once lodged in our fingers, they hurt whenever we touched something.

We had to go back to our room and closely examine our hands under a bright lamp.

And get the light just right before we could even see the needles to pluck them out.

I felt guilty for letting my little grandson touch the plant.

And a bit foolish for knowing so little about the desert.

Jesus went out into a place very different from Palm Desert.

He went to a place of quiet solitude.

A place where he was totally alone, away from all the distractions of daily life.

A place where he could engage with only his own thoughts and with the Spirits.

This is the kind of setting we seek to enter during Lent.

Not physically—but figuratively, mentally and spiritually.

Enter that state of mind where we can shut out all the noise of the day.

Where we can concentrate on taking a long, careful, quiet look inward.

And really engage our own thoughts and examine our lives.

Where we can present our questions to God and hope to hear his answers.

We might examine and discuss how we're doing with those three major activities.

Prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

Almsgiving involves more than money or material goods like the crops in our first reading.

It also includes giving our time and talent.

Prayer includes thanksgiving as in that first reading, and in Putin's short statement.

And praise, as in our second reading.

And petition—seeking help and guidance—as in our psalm.

All of those types of prayer can include quiet conversation and listening.

Fasting includes giving up food.

But it also includes giving up other possessions and activities.

As we reflect on all those things we may see opportunities for action.

We might decide to give something up, or to take something on.

To do something extra.

Or to just try harder at the things we’re already doing and supposed to do.

It’s easy to feel that we’re not doing enough.

And that’s very often true.

Wondering what's enough always reminds me of Jesus’ words regarding our duty as servants.

When you have done all you have been commanded, say,

‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’ (Lk 17:10)

So, can anything we do really be extra?

As we discuss that with God, we might hear–Hey, your plate is full, just keep up the good work.

If that's the answer we get, that may be fine.

But we might want to double check a few times to make sure whose voice is telling us that.

As we heard in our Gospel, the devil can be pretty crafty—he'll even resort to quoting Scripture.

As we examine our lives, and decide on next steps,

We might take some timely guidance in discernment and decision-making from Pope Benedict.

Nearly all popes have left it to the unquestionable certainty of death to end their ministry.

But Benedict relied on what he heard in his conversations with God.

In his resignation address he said:

After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God,

I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age,

are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry.

The decision he labored over may have been orders of magnitude more important than ours.

But the process Benedict used to reach it is the same process we should follow.

Talk to God … Pray … Repeatedly.

Work through the details. Examine our conscience.

Hear God’s direction; find that certainty.

If we examine ourselves in the right light, we may see the things that are hurting us.

Things that are holding us back. 

Hurtful things we can pluck out of our lives.

Or we may see opportunities that we've never seen before.

Benedict’s decision may have been far more important than ours in many ways.

It was certainly more newsworthy; it certainly has a greater immediate impact on more people.

But our own Lenten decision is almost certainly of greater importance to us individually.

It could be the start of a new conversion, a rekindling, a first step on a new course.

First Sunday of Lent

LK 4:1-13                                 Read this Scripture @usccb.org