The First Sunday of Lent – C: Feb. 25, 2007

Deuteronomy 26:4-10
Romans 10:8-13
Luke 4:1-13

Dear Jesus,

How many times have I been doing this, making this journey called Lent? Many is the operative word, I guess, and with the passing of time, the season comes around with increasing frequency. Can it possibly be Lent again? I find myself musing as the ashes are traced on my forehead: Will this be the one, the Lent that makes the difference? It is as if I expect that one of these times I will come out the other side perfected, the task accomplished, and I will have arrived.

Lent has a negative connotation with many people. For some reason, there is an eagerness to get in line for the ashes. But enthusiasm wanes at the thought of the fasting, prayer, and almsgiving that are the expected practices to be observed for the next forty days. It’s all so negative. I have to confess that I have thought that way. But this year, my thoughts are different and are so because I noticed something in this week’s gospel. You were filled with the Holy Spirit when you came back from the Jordan and your baptism. You were led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil. Some say that the word led is euphemistic for the reality described. Better put, you were driven, almost forced into the desert, as if you were reluctant to go. And the word tempted can also mean tested. Something harrowing and heroic will be happening in this encounter between you and the devil. This sojourn is like Israel’s 40 years of wandering during which a people is formed and a relationship with God set.

Your mettle will be tried and proven. This testing will steel you for the rigors of your ministry. You will avow before the evil one that your desire is always to do the will of the One who sent you. It is not your own glory that you seek, but God’s. And you are God’s own beloved. Why have I always concluded that there was no match here, that you were in charge all the way, that there was no struggle? This year, I see it differently.

I write to you from the desert forty years after a journey of ministry began. It is over now. I pause and remember and give thanks. But over does not mean ended. A new leg of the journey begins as this Lent dawns. This time of fasting, praying, and almsgiving, is preparation, testing for what is coming. Life has chapters. Chapters conclude, but that does not mean the book ends.

I will make this sojourn with you to be tested. It is not likely that there will be a dramatic encounter with the devil. You have destroyed the devil’s power. I will be tested to prepare for what lies ahead. As I have tried to do from the day I first met you, I must watch you and learn. I must challenge myself to conform more closely to the example you give. I must walk the walk and talk the talk, as they say, and dare to ask how much of self has been emptied for you to fill. I must become less and less that you might become all in all.

I see Lent differently this year because I no longer see it culminating in a conclusion. Does that make sense? Easter is not an end, but a beginning. Something new always opens up in the celebration of that great Vigil. The Candle scatters the darkness as life’s triumph over death is proclaimed. People are baptized. Sinners are reconciled in the renewal of the baptismal promises. Then they renew the Eucharist even as they are sent to bring the Light to the world. Lent tested them. Easter continues the walk with you on the Way.

And so I must live in the now, here in the desert and be open to the trial, the testing, the temptations. And I must watch and wait and listen. I will fast and experience my hunger for you. I will pray but mostly in silent listening as I long for your voice to tell me of your love even as you remind me that you are my strength. And I will pour out my self in service. What else can I do if I journey with you?

Forty years prepared me. I wonder where we will go from here?

Sincerely,

Didymus