Author: WebDept ParishAdmin

Day Two of Lent and we are well on our way along the well-worn paths of Lenten themes. Jesus comes out strong today with some classic Lenten phrases: “Deny yourself, take up your cross, follow me,” and “Whoever loses his life will save it.” You might be thinking, “Woah there, Lent just got started. Isn’t that a little strong for the opener?”

Both yes and no, from my perspective at least. Yes, this is a strong way to begin Lent. Just look at the last line of today’s Gospel, “What profit is there for one to gain the whole world, yet lose or forfeit himself?” These are revolutionary words since they go against pretty much all of human nature. Consider the first sin of Adam and Eve. They grasped for what they thought would make them happy, would broaden their horizons. But at what cost? 

Up and down the centuries, this sin of pride and greed, this grasping for what is out of our reach, has thwarted the best and worst of us alike. We all struggle with a deep fear that what we have will be taken away and we will be left without. So we work, we grasp, to gain whatever we can that we think will protect us from this fear. Jesus is pressing on that fear, deftly identifying with surgical precision the root of the human condition. Lent is here, get it into gear says Jesus.

At the start of Lent, a time when we are supposed to take the time to look inward and discover where we need to grow, Jesus is pointing out to each one of us a good place to start. What are we fearful to lose? What are we doing or acquiring that we think will alleviate that fear? How much time or space does it consume?

Perhaps you are thinking to yourself, “I don’t want to gain the whole world. I’m not some mad scientist trying to take over the world after all. I just want to be comfortable, to have security for the future, food on the table, normal stuff.” I’m glad you’re not a mad scientist or evil genius, but Jesus is asking you to consider stretching yourself this Lent. What does it mean to be “comfortable?” What would Jesus consider “comfortable” if He walked into your home today? 

Are we supposed to care for and provide for the families God has given us? Yes, of course! But we are also supposed to care for our neighbors, strangers, others, with love and support as well. 

Lent is a time where purposefully widen our gaze. The world encourages tunnel vision – I do me and you do you. We are called to something more. We are members of a community, a Body. We lose ourselves when we struggle to gain alone. We find ourselves when we work together for the good of each person in our community. 

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There’s a moment that strikes at every parent’s heart: the moment where your kid does something wrong, thoughtless, selfish. We try and try and try to help our kids become caring, faithful, and positive human beings, and even so, at some point they’re inevitably going to decide to do something different. Turn away from what we’ve taught them. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don’t. But there’s always that lingering question in our minds—how could they have done that? Didn’t I give them everything? Didn’t I teach them better?

I don’t know about you, but that’s what I was thinking when I looked at today’s first reading: “When the Lord saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth (…) he regretted that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was grieved.”

Stop for a moment and re-read that. He regretted that he had made man on earth. Imagine being so hurt by your child’s actions that you regretted them being born! Even in this early stop on humanity’s journey with God, a journey that would reach its most revelatory and truest moment with the coming of Christ, God is first and foremost a father. He is looking at what his children are doing, and it is making him sad. How could they have done that? In commenting on this passage, Pope Francis said, “God the Father who loves us … is capable of getting angry.” However, “our God loves us with the heart; he does not love us with ideas.” Have you ever thought, Pope Francis asks us, that when “he disciplines us, like a good father, he disciplines us with his heart,” suffering from this more than we do? It’s really a special kind of intimacy, this relationship. But one with bitter consequences.

It seems to me that this story from Genesis is a cautionary tale. 

One way or another, the past year has felt pretty disastrous. And it’s been my sense that humans haven’t done a whole lot to make things any better; an impartial alien might look at the planet and wonder what on earth—pun intended—we’re doing to ourselves. Violence has broken out all over the world, not just in isolated pockets here and there. Most countries haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory in dealing with a pandemic that continues to take thousands of lives every day. And despite Pope Francis’ exhortations, we don’t seem to be taking the Gospel very seriously when it comes to dealing with the poor and vulnerable around us. I’ll be honest: I’ve despaired of humanity on many occasions over the past few years.

Yet the essential message of this story is one of hope. Yes, it’s an inspired and powerful message about judgment and grace, about God’s hatred of sin and his love for his creation. But it also points in a primordial way to the New Testament and to the real Hope of the world. This story gives us a promise that would come to pass centuries later: God’s promise never to destroy the earth again is fully realized in the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, where God takes the judgment for sin upon himself rather than humanity. Through the lens of Christ, the biblical flood story proclaims the marvelous news of God’s grace and love for his people.

And that’s what I’m hanging on to. God loves with his heart, as Pope Francis points out, not with ideas. When the ideas of humanity get to be too much to bear, there’s where I take comfort. In hope. In love. In God.

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