Genesis 2:7-9; 3:1-7
Deacon Richard Kulleck teaches new deacons homiletics here in the diocese of Boise. He learned homiletics at Catholic Theologian Union from Dianne Bergant with Richard Fragomeni. They wrote a book called, Preaching the New Lectionary. At the beginning of the Lenten readings, they have a section on the overall themes we’ll be hearing for the next six weeks. This is what they say, “Although Lent has traditionally been understood as a time of repentance and penance, the liturgical readings of the season focus our attention on the goodness of God and the blessings that flow from this into our lives rather than on human sinfulness and any attempts to make amends for it through lenten practices.”
Is that news to you, because it’s kind of news to me. Not growing up Catholic, I knew about giving things up for Lent, but I never fully understood why, so I asked people. Why do you give up coffee? And they would say it was a sacrifice for God. But I would ask, and how does that bring you closer to God? The answers I got didn’t make a lot of sense. In fairness, many people were just doing what they had always done since childhood and never really asked why themselves. Sometimes their answers did make sense for their lives, but I couldn’t translate it into my own life. I think the truth is that most people think that giving things up, exercising their will power, somehow impresses God. I knew instinctively that God isn’t all that impressed by will power. I knew that Lenten disciplines were about growing closer to God.... not even closer to God. Scripture tells us over and over that God couldn’t be any closer. Jesus died on the cross and rose and is now as present to each of us fully, completely, powerfully, all the time, everywhere. It’s not closeness that we need, it’s awareness.
So I was still trying to figure out what to do for Lent. Then I heard things about doing something extra and that made more sense to me. Some people go to Mass more often. They donate more money. One year we decided to pray every day together as a family. One year I journaled every day. One year we didn’t go out to eat for all of Lent and donated the money we saved to a charity that we decided on together as a family.
Those practices made more sense to me. But I realized that I was still focusing on myself. In today’s first reading with the serpent and the temptation and sin entering the world, I felt the burden of that guilt. I felt the burden of sin. My Lenten practices, while growing in my awareness of God, I had to admit were tinged a taste of doing something for God. As if I could somehow make it up to God by sacrifice. And then Easter always had a tinge of relief at being freed from the sacrifice. If I’m growing in my awareness of God, of God’s powerful and life-enveloping love for me, than I don’t think I should feel relief. I still wasn’t getting it.
In our 2nd reading, St. Paul says, “but the gift is not like the transgression.” The transgression of Adam is not like the gift of Christ. The gift, the grace is so much bigger, so much more important, than the sin.
We look at our sinfulness only to get to the therefore. I have sinned, therefore I need God and I am filled gratitude for God’s love and compassion. It’s all about God’s love and compassion.
Penance isn’t about making it up to God. Jesus did penance, and he had nothing to make up for. It says he went into the desert and fasted for 40 days. This passage is rich with imagery that the early church would have easily heard. Jesus fasted in the desert for 40 days, just as Israel wondered in the desert for 40 years. They were hungry, God gave them manna from heaven, and they still grumbled. Jesus was hungry but didn’t grumble, instead heeding the word of God. Israel put God’s protection to the test, but Jesus won’t. Israel had been sent as a light to the nations, but it is Jesus who dismisses Satan with unwavering fidelity to God. The early Christians would have heard all of these contrasts and seen that Jesus is the new Israel, except that Jesus proves faithful when put to the test. Sooner or later, we will all be tested. Jesus shows us how it is done.
We notice our sinfulness only to get to the therefore. I have sinned, therefore I need God and I am filled gratitude for God’s love and compassion. Like Jesus, I will strive for faithfulness above all things.
The professors go on to say, “Only after we have been seared by the fire of divine love will any kind of penance be seen in its proper light.” First we are seared by divine love. We don’t do penance to find God, first we experience God’s overpowering love, and then we do penance, not to suffer, but to clean things up. It’s like having a beautiful piano in the front room, but over time, things get stacked on it, and in front of it, and pretty soon it’s hard to see the piano. Penance is cleaning things up so we can get back to that wonderful music.
Jesus was seared by that divine love. Have you been seared? Have you been amazed and shocked at the power of God’s love? Think for a time when God’s love for you was right in front of you, strong enough to leave burn marks on you. Maybe it was an ah-ha moment at a retreat, or a miracle God worked in your life, or a time that God truly saved you. Think of that moment when you truly knew. That’s where we start.
This Lent we walk with our candidates and catechumens toward baptism and full membership in our Catholic Church at Easter, remembering our own baptism, our own undeserved adoption into the family of Christ. These readings remind us again that God chose us, that God chose us because of God’s great compassion, and mercy, and love for each one of us.
Penance is all about getting to the therefore. I have sinned, therefore I need God and I am filled gratitude for God’s love and compassion. Like Jesus, I will strive for faithfulness above all things.
We begin with remembering how desperately God loves us, and then we get busy cleaning up that mess in front of the piano so that at Easter the music lifts our souls and we rejoice together.
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