Crisis of Faith

3^rd Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

Isaiah 35: 1-6a, 10; James 5: 7-10; 

Matthew 11: 2-11

I'm a fairly intelligent person. I consider myself well-read. I can understand difficult concepts. I've scored above average on my aptitude tests over the years. But I have one flaw that drives me nuts – sometimes the answer to a puzzle is so blatantly obvious, so straight-forward, that I can't see it. Today's Gospel passage presented just such a dilemma for me.

Matthew describes the scene where John the Baptist has sent his followers to Jesus to ask if he is the “one who is to come.” WHY? Isn't this the same John the Baptist that lept in his mother's womb when the expectant Mary came to visit? Isn't this the same John the Baptist who, on seeing Jesus walk by, proclaimed to his disciples “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world?” Isn't this the same John the Baptist who witnessed at Jesus' baptism, the heavens open up and the spirit of God descending like a dove upon the Christ? So why is John so uncertain now? It didn't make sense to me.

It took a conversation with a parishioner the other evening to make me finally realize what was going on in John's head. Are you ready for this? John was having a crisis of faith! The very idea – even now – boggles the mind, but it's right there for all to see. John the Baptist was having a crisis of faith.

Of all the people who knew Jesus, walked with Jesus, witnessed his marvelous deeds, you would think that John the Baptist would understand. After all, he was the voice crying out from the desert – he was announcing the coming of the Lord. Jesus even said that there had been none greater than John the Baptist. If John could have a crisis of faith, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Remember that John had been imprisoned for speaking out against Herod and his unlawful marriage to his brother's wife. One moment John was the talk of town – everyone was going out to him to be baptized in the Jordan. The next moment, he was locked up – his ministry was over and eventually he would be executed. Any person in his situation might begin to question the truth.

It can be the same with each of us. We sometimes find ourselves in little prisons that are as real and confining as the one that held John the Baptist. The young – you may find yourselves at times confined by the prison of peer pressure, pressure to conform, to be someone other than yourself. Adults – we sometimes find ourselves trapped in a job that offers few challenges and little satisfaction. Mothers and Fathers – do we not at times find ourselves imprisoned by fears and worries about our children? Will they succeed, will they have faith, will they even survive in this hostile world? And as we all inevitably approach old age, our own bodies can become our prisons. Bodies that were once quick and agile become slow and frail. Minds that were once sharp begin to struggle to remember things. As things progress we will be faced with declining health, growing dependence on others, perhaps even confinement in a nursing home or a hospital bed. These are real prisons – we should not pretend that they do not exist.

So it is easy to become depressed – easy to question our faith in God when we find ourselves imprisoned by circumstances. In this part of the world, Advent comes at the beginning of winter. The nights are longer now than at any other time of the year. Cold and darkness envelop us. All of this, combined with our prisons can make life's burdens almost unbearable.

So how do we muddle through? How do we regain our faith – our hope – our perspective?

Jesus said, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”

The church does not promise us that Advent will tear down our prison walls. It teaches us that the light of Christ will penetrate any darkness. The light of Christ will come to us in any prison where we may find ourselves. No walls, bars or locked doors can keep out the light of Christ. The prisons that held John the Baptist, St. Peter, St. Paul, St. John of the Cross, Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day, Nelson Mandela – not one of them could keep out the light of Christ. And if Christ can be found in such prisons, surely he will be found in our lives this Advent season, if we let him.

Jesus sent disciples to John in prison to proclaim the good news. Today, each of us are disciples of Christ. Each of us must testify to the light that is Jesus Christ. Each of us must carry that good news to others.

So rejoice this third Sunday of Advent. Light that rose candle and await the dawn. The darkness has forever lost its power. Jesus is with us.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
Third Sunday In Advent
December 15, 2013

Painting:

Giovanni de Paolo (c. 1399-1482)

St. John The Baptist In Prison Visited By Two Disciples (1455/60)

Grace And Mosquitoes

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year C

2 Kings 5: 14-17; 2 Timothy 2: 8-13; 

Luke 17: 11-19

The author, W. H. Auden once wrote that when grace enters our lives, we as humans have no choice, we must dance. It is a wonderful sentiment and I wish it were true but, sadly, it is not. More often than not we allow life's little irritations to distract us from acknowledging grace.

Today's gospel depicts ten lepers cured by Jesus, but only one returns to praise God and give thanks. Were the other nine ungrateful or could it have been something else? Perhaps they didn't even notice they had been cured.

We all know how mosquitoes can ruin a picnic. Not too long ago, I attended a party at my sister's house. It was beautiful evening and there were a lot of guests. Some were playing cornhole. Others were just sitting in lawn chairs and talking. There was a pot of chili on the stove and aroma of hamburgers and hot dogs from the grill filled the air. For a time everything was perfect. This is “Sabbath” in the biblical sense. You are celebrating life. You are surrounded by family and friends, enjoying leisure time away from work, all with good food and drink. Grace has entered and everything is glorious except for one thing – mosquitoes. As the sun began to set, the insects invited themselves to the party. A bite here and a bite there, and soon everyone was distracted. Before long, the good cheer had evaporated – replaced by irritation. The grace – still present – was forgotten and the inclination to dance had disappeared.

We have all experienced moments such as this. Given the complexities of life, irritations of some sort will always be present. Every parade has a little rain, every silver lining has a cloud, every green pasture has a little fertilizer. Life rarely comes to us unencumbered, free from distraction. We hardly ever get to experience moments of pure, clear-cut joy. Everything comes with a shadow – like a mosquito at a picnic.

And so it is not always easy to dance – even in the presence of grace. The mosquito bites can cause us to lose perspective. Grace is trumped by life. Even a minor irritation can make us lose sight of the huge graces present in our lives.

We try to live in the moment but even that is difficult. Elements from our past haunt our memories and distract us – the remembrance of a song, a forgotten face, a humiliation on the playground – and a thousand other past incidents force themselves into our heads. Likewise, future events cause anxiety – the test tomorrow that we are not prepared for, what the doctor will tell us on our next visit – all these things pile up and make living in the moment almost impossible. The grace within the present moment never comes to us pure.

And yet the challenge remains – a healthy and important challenge. We cannot allow the mosquito bites of life to blind us to the graces within our midst. We must find a way to turn away from distraction and annoyance, and celebrate with God. David Steidl-Rast, a spiritual writer, articulates this point very clearly. “You think this is just another day in your life. It's not just another day; it's the one day that is given to you today. It's given to you; it's a gift. It is the only gift that you have right now, and the only appropriate response is gratefulness. If you do nothing else but to cultivate that response to the great gift that this unique day is, if you learn to respond as if it were the first day of your life and the very last day, then you will have spent this day very well.”

My friends, we cannot allow the mosquitoes of the world to intrude on the graces within our lives. The grace that is this moment comes but once. Embrace it. Celebrate it. Dance with it.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
28th Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 13, 2013

Painting:
James Tissot
Healing Of The Lepers At Capernaum (1886-94)

Humility Before God

22^nd Sunday In Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Sirach 3: 17-18, 20, 28-29; 

Hebrews 12: 18-19, 22-24a; 

Luke 14: 1, 7-14

There was a good reason why the guests observed Jesus closely when he went to dinner. Jesus had a bit of a reputation for unorthodox behavior at dinner parties. On two previous occasions, he had shocked the guests. There was that meal when he had allowed a woman to perfume his feet. At another feast, he had begun eating without the ritual washing of hands. And now there was this meal at a leading Pharisee's house – not just any meal – but a Sabbath dinner. What new act of “bad manners” would this rabbi from Nazareth commit at this sacred celebration?

That is why they observed him closely.

The irony of today's Gospel is that Jesus was observing them closely. He noticed how the sophisticated religious leaders were acting like children, grabbing the best seats around the table so that they would appear important. As usual, Jesus turns the tables. He always reverses the order we think should be in place. He tells them to sit at the lowest places so that they will be invited by the host to come up higher. Jesus is trying to show the dinner guests how to be humble. What he is truly teaching the Pharisees and us is this: Remember where you stand and in whose presence.

Even though the dinner guests observed him closely, they failed to recognize that they were standing in the presence of, not just the host of a dinner party, but the host of the heavenly banquet, Jesus himself.

Remember where you stand and in whose presence.

There is a danger here, a pitfall that we all must navigate. I will call this danger the “mask of humility.” There is a big difference between acting humble to impress others and genuine humility.

In 2004, my wife and I entered into formation for the diaconate. At our first class, we took turns introducing ourselves and telling our life stories. There were seventeen new aspirants plus spouses in the room, and as we listened to these stories, one of the men became more and more convinced that he was in the wrong place. He heard about years in seminary that ended before completion. He heard of years of parish service and parishioners telling them that they would make good deacons. He heard people talking about their callings – how they were absolutely certain that they had a vocation to the diaconate. Two of the people present had even experienced miraculous healings. The man to whom I am referring had experienced none of those things. He was the last to speak that day, and when he spoke, it was without a “mask of humility.” He admitted he didn't know if he had a calling and said that, after hearing the other stories, he was feeling inadequate to the task. When he had finished, one of the others said something that has stuck with me. He said that none of us is worthy to serve the Lord, but our desire to humbly serve, coupled with the grace of God and the movement of the Spirit, may just be enough.

Let me say that again – our desire to humbly serve, coupled with the grace of God and the movement of the Spirit, may just be enough.

In a few moments, we will all be sharing the greatest gift of all, the Eucharist. The Eucharist is the great equalizer. At this meal of the Lord we are all the same in God's eyes. God recognizes and rejoices in both our accomplishments and our shortcomings. It doesn't matter if we are the first in line or the last. It doesn't matter if we are rich or poor, famous or unknown, religious or not, no one is greater than the others. The gift of the Eucharist is the same for each of us. That's why it is foolish to wear a mask of humility before God. In the presence of the Host of this Eucharistic meal, the Lord instructs each of us to remember where we stand and in whose presence.

And because the Eucharist is supposed to spill out into the rest of our lives, during all the meals that we share this week – at home, at work, at McDonald's, or if you are lucky, at a nice restaurant, remember where you stand and in whose presence. If we can do this, we can all remove our masks and know what God means by humility.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 1, 2013

Painting:
Georges de La Tour
Christ In The Carpenter's Shop, 1645

Love As God Loves

15th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Deuteronomy 30: 10-14; Colossians 1: 15-20; 

Luke 10: 25-37

In today's gospel, a scholar of the law begins to question Jesus. The lawyer asks, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Rather than answering, Jesus asks him “What is written in the law?” The lawyer answers correctly, just as most of us could.

God's law is not mysterious or remote. We don't have to search for it up in the sky or across the sea – it is already spoken with our lips – it is already written in our hearts: You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself. (Luke 10: 27) The law is straightforward and easy to understand in theory. It is in trying to live by these rules, however, that we encounter our difficulties.

We all want to obey the law. We want to love God. We want to help each other – to care for each other – to do the right thing. Often though, we find it is much easier to mind our own business and not get involved in the affairs of others. And so we make excuses for ourselves. Do any of these sound familiar?

• If I help this one, they will all expect help
• I'm too busy
• Nobody ever helps me
• I might get sued

And so we look for a loophole in the law that will justify our inaction – this one is not my neighbor. We find reasons to exclude others from our neighborhood:

• They are a different race or a different nationality
• They worship differently or maybe they do not worship at all
• They voted for the wrong person
• They are poor, unemployed, or living off of the government
• They lead a lifestyle that some would consider an abomination

These others do not conform to our ideal of a good neighbor, and so we exclude them. The real problem that we face is this – it is easier to hate or ignore than it is to love. Loving takes work and effort. We have to really want it. We have to choose to love in order to make it happen.

We are human beings – imperfect – and incapable of loving except in a flawed and imperfect way. This includes both friends and family. Even those closest to us are unable to grasp this perfect love. That is why we have so many divorces and estrangements in the world. We need to find a way to love each other more fully – more perfectly. We need to learn to love as God loves.

God loves without condition. God loves indiscriminately, wildly, with abandon, abundantly, without consideration of merit. For God, everyone is neighbor – every race, every color, every persuasion, Samaritans and Jews, Democrats and Republicans, heterosexual and homosexual, blue collar, white collar, no collar; God's love cannot be limited by precise legal or religious definitions.

This is what we should all be seeking – to love as God loves. But we are human. How can we learn to love this way?

It is only possible with the help of Jesus Christ.

We cannot love as God does by our own power. It simply will not work. We need the assistance of Jesus. If we want to love as God does, we must seek out Christ every day of our lives. We must ask for his help in the morning. He must be our pillow at night. We must reflect on his life. We must be nourished by him. We need his strength and his wisdom and his compassion if we are to succeed.

Loving God and neighbor is our highest law – Jesus said so. The only way to accomplish that is to seek Christ daily in the faces of those we encounter. With Jesus' help, we can all learn to love as God loves.

Deacon Darryl Diemer

15th Sunday In Ordinary Time

July 14, 2013

Painting: van Gogh, The Good Samaritan, 1890

Healing At The Gate Of Society

10th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

1 Kings 17: 17-24; Galatians 1: 11-19; 

Luke 7: 11-17

The Gospel today depicts the story of Jesus entering the city of Nain. The first time that I read this story, I was captivated by the miracle – Jesus raised someone from the dead – and the crowd rejoiced. As I reread the story, however, a different picture began to emerge.

There are a couple of things happening within the story that are revealed when we take a closer look. This account isn't just about a healing. The story's focus isn't on the young man – it is on the mother. Luke's use of the word “her” so many times demonstrates that fact. Jesus see's her, is moved with pity for her, speaks to her, and after restoring the life of the son, gives him to her. Clearly the writer wants us to understand this woman's predicament.

The woman in the story is a widow and now she has lost her only son as well. In other words, she has lost her only means for support. She is now at the mercy of others. In today's world that might be hard to fathom, but in the time and place where she lived, that was the reality of her situation. Jesus sees her pain and is filled with compassion and pity for her. It is worth noting here that Jesus was never asked to intervene. In most of Jesus' miracle stores, he is asked for help. But not this one.

This gospel story is also noteworthy because its location – at the gate of the city. The city is the center, the hub of society. It is a place of life. It is where people find meaning through their day-to-day struggle in relationships and communal interaction. Outside the city is the cemetery – a place of death.

As the story opens, there are two crowds moving in opposite directions: Jesus and his crowd of followers are heading for the city – the place of life. The funeral crowd is moving toward the cemetery – the place of death. The two crowds converge at the city gate – an in-between place that is neither within the city nor the cemetery.

When I think about the crowd moving away from the city, away from life, I have to wonder who might be in that group today. Perhaps those who are stuck in a dead-end job, with no hope of something better on the horizon. Maybe people who are going through the motions, trapped in a situation from which they see no escape. I see single parents, struggling to raise their children alone. I see teenagers – old enough to “know better” yet too young and inexperienced in the ways of life to make informed and proper choices. I see older people with failing health who must now rely on others to provide for them. All of these people might be present in the crowd moving away from life.

Here at St. Francis, we are very mindful and aware of those less fortunate. We have organizations like CLOUT which seeks solutions to help the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized. He have angel trees and the collection for Whitley City to help those who have very little. But what of these others? They may have homes and jobs and 401K's and so their needs may not be quite as noticeable. They may be doing OK on the surface but suffering emotionally or spiritually. How do we reach out to them? How do we even know that they are hurting?

The widow of Nain was a part of this crowd of disillusion. Life as she had known it had come to an end. She had lost her hope. Then she has an encounter with Christ. Jesus discerned her needs and acted. No one asked him to – his response came from the compassion and the pity he was feeling. And what a response it was! The dead man awakens and the people began to celebrate and proclaim, “God has visited his people.”

We all want to belong to the crowd that is heading into the city – the place of life. Sometimes, however, we find ourselves in the midst of the other crowd. Jesus calls each of us to action on this day. If you are amongst those heading toward life, be thankful for all that God had blessed you with, and share the joy of the risen Christ with all those you encounter. If you are among those heading away from life, cling to hope and know that Christ is present within your suffering. As we come to the Eucharist, let us all seek ways of sharing that gift of Christ's love.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

10th Sunday in Ordinary Time

June 9, 2013

Painting: Jesus Resurrecting The Son Of The Widow Of Nain

by Pierre Bouillon c. 1749-1806

Seeking The Sunglasses

Ascension of the Lord – Cycle C

Acts 1: 1-11; Ephesians 1: 17-23; 

Luke 24: 46-53

In today's Gospel, Luke says of Jesus, “As he blessed them he parted from them and was taken up to heaven” (Luke 24:51). The account from Acts paints of picture of Jesus rising into the clouds as the apostles stare at the bottoms of his feet.

For years I believed that this feast day was all about the risen Jesus leaving his earthly home for the last time to forever sit at the right hand of the Father. But maturity has brought me a deeper understanding of the Ascension. Since today is Mother's Day, I'll illustrate my point with a Mom story.

One day my mother was getting ready to go to the grocery. She was searching all over the house for something, and getting angrier by the minute. My brother finally asked, “What are you looking for?”

She was looking for her sunglasses. At that point we busted out laughing. The sunglasses weren't lost - they were perched on the top of her head the whole time!

And so it was with Jesus and the early church. The early Christians spent a lot of time looking up at the clouds for Christ. The first followers believed that Jesus would return soon – perhaps even before those who knew him firsthand had died. There is a legend that at early Eucharistic celebrations, someone was appointed – probably the deacon – to go outside during the celebration and see if Christ had returned. Gradually, the church learned to focus on building up the Kingdom of God here on earth rather than looking expectantly toward the heavens.

We can learn something from the missing sunglasses as well. One of the non-canonical sayings of Jesus states, “A person who sees his brother (or sister) sees God.” In other words, we should be searching for Christ in each other rather than looking for him somewhere else. When we turn to each other in the sign of peace, we are turning to Christ.

And what of the poor and the suffering in our community? Do we see them as the sunglasses we are seeking? I am not talking about an abstract group of people, but of the people who are close to us in our everyday lives: those enduring the poverty of loneliness, of boredom, of emptiness, of seeming abandonment in our nursing homes. Do we seek them out, or do we continue our fruitless search?

Sometimes we look for Christ in the heavens when all this time he has been lying lost and forgotten in the darkness of the poor and the suffering.

How then do we gain the spirit of wisdom and revelation so that we may come to know God? All of the readings today speak of power. In Acts, Jesus says, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you” (1:8). Paul's letter to the Ephesians refers to “the surpassing greatness of [God's] power for us who believe, ... which he worked in Christ, raising him from the dead and seating him at the right hand in the heavens” (1:19). Finally in Luke, Jesus tells his disciples to “stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (24:49).

What an awesome thought – that same power that raised Jesus from the dead and took him into heaven is operating among us. This power is the power of God's love. Without it, we cannot care for those who need our care. We cannot love fully or completely on our own. It is only by tapping into the great reservoir of God's love that we can do this.

The author Annie Dillard, who became Catholic several years ago, put forth the notion that we Christians are like children playing on the floor with our chemistry sets, making TNT. We have access to a power more awesome than dynamite. If we were to fully unleash the power of God's love, the world would be forever changed.

Yesterday our second graders received their first taste of that power in the Eucharist. Let us come now to the table of the Lord and be nourished again by that great power of God's love so that we may see Christ not only in the heavens, but in our midst.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Ascension of the Lord

May 12, 2013

Painting: Ascension by Rembrandt, 1636

Seeing The Glory Of God

4^th Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

1 Samuel 6: 1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5: 8-14; 

John 9: 1-41

There is a guided method of prayer that I was taught called Lectio Divina. It basically works like this: You choose a passage from scripture and read it. At the end, you look back and pick out one word, or one phrase that grabbed your attention and you meditate on that word. Sit in thought with it for awhile. Then go back and re-read the entire passage again. As you continue the process, you begin to perceive and understand the scripture on a much deeper level. It can be an eye-opening experience.

I frequently use this method of prayer when I am writing a homily. It usually works quite well. Usually. This week – not so much. Today's gospel story was very long and it was difficult to choose a phrase but I eventually settled on one.

You will recall that at the beginning of the story, the disciples ask Jesus, who had sinned, the blind man or his parents. Jesus answered “neither”, and then he said the phrase that caught my attention: “it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him” WOW. Let me repeat it - “it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

 

Just imagine – every person since the beginning of time has been created for this purpose. From the unborn child in his mother's womb to the most aged – from the rich and powerful to the poor and sick – every life gives glory to God. Everyone reflects God's love to others. Yes, we are all sinners, but God's glory remains. Nothing can take that glory away.

 

“It is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

 

The blind man was not a respected man of the community. If anyone noticed him at all, it was to step around him on the way to wherever they were going. But Jesus noticed him. He sent him to wash in the waters of Siloam, reminding us of our own baptism. Jesus not only cured the man's physical affliction, but also awakened in him a faith in Christ. Notice that when he is first asked who healed him, the man replies: “The man called Jesus” did it; later, he says of Jesus, “He is a prophet.” Still later he acknowledges Jesus as the Son of Man. And finally he says simply, “I do believe Lord.” And he worshiped him. This is a synopsis our our growth in faith, growth that takes us a lifetime.

 

I read a story a few years ago written by a christian minister. It seems that his son and daughter-in-law were going to have their third child. But something went terribly wrong. One of the prenatal tests showed that the child had a severe defect and it was inoperable. The baby would not survive. The minister advised the couple that an abortion would be OK given the circumstances. The daughter-in-law was Catholic and told him that she was having that baby no matter what. Her husband understood his father's argument but chose instead to support his wife. Baby Evan was born and lived his entire lifetime, 43 minutes, in the arms of his family. His brother and sister, both children themselves held baby Evan's hands and sang to him. Aunts and uncles took turns holding him and fussing over him. Many photographs were taken. The minister baptized his grandson. It was a glorious lifetime. Afterward, when the minister wrote about the experience, he told of the love that was present in that hospital room. He compared himself to the shepherds in the nativity story who were given such a wonderful gift. He felt as if he'd seen the face of God firsthand.

 

“It is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

 

There are so many opportunities in our daily lives where the glory of God might be made known to us through others: in line at the checkout counter, in a restaurant, at work – so many chances. I confess that it is hard for me to see. I tell myself that the glory of God is easier to spot in some than in others. The simple truth is that I forget to look for it most of the time. It's one of my faults, but I recognize my shortcomings and I'm trying to change them. Maybe Lectio Divina can help.

 

So how do we insure that God's glory is made visible through us? By drawing closer to Christ in faith. It begins with baptism but it is a lifelong process of giving our hearts to Christ. An intellectual knowledge of the historical Jesus is not enough. An acknowledgment of Jesus as a prophet, as a teacher, as a role model is not enough. It is only when we are able to say “Jesus is Lord,” and mean it, that we can make that breakthrough. Then the glory of God can shine through for all to see.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Fourth Sunday of Lent

March 10, 2013

Pray and Reflect

First Sunday Of Lent – Cycle C

Deuteronomy 26: 4-10; Romans 10: 8-13; 

Luke 4: 1-13

In Luke's account of the Gospel, Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan. Immediately following this, Jesus is led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days of prayer, fasting and reflection. But why does he do this?

At his baptism, Jesus heard God say, “You are my beloved son: with you I am well pleased.” Was Jesus surprised to hear this? Maybe he was. Jesus already knew in his deepest soul how close he was to the Father. Yet Jesus was also fully and completely human. So perhaps in his human awareness he was surprised. Jesus had studied the scriptures ever since he was a boy, at the knees of his parents. He knew that a savior was promised. And now this glorious announcement from heaven proclaims “you are my beloved son.” Only now were things starting to click into place. He was the chosen one.

Jesus needed time to ponder and interpret this revelation. He had to listen again, over and over, in silence and solitude. He went to the desert. There he prayed and fasted for forty days. It was there, during this time of reflection, that Jesus discerned his vocation. It was there that Jesus decided what form his ministry would take. It was there that Jesus chose to devote himself freely and totally to building up the Kingdom of God.

After the forty days was completed, the devil approaches Jesus in his weakened condition and tempts him. The first temptation is for Jesus to satisfy himself physically. Change this stone to bread and be hungry no longer. We face similar temptations. We live in a society of instant gratification. We have our smart phones, our i-pods, our kindles and our flat screen TV's. We need our fix – whether it's entertainment, information, communication or the accumulation of more stuff. We want it now, and there are ways to get it now. But Jesus rejects this sort of behavior.

The second task is for Jesus to satisfy himself socially and politically. The whole world is his to command if only he renounces God. We face similar temptations. As individuals we dominate, discriminate and oppress as we scale the corporate ladder to personal success. As nations we seek to control others through war, ethnic cleansing or economic means. We turn a blind eye as our brothers and sisters suffer pain through poverty, hunger, disease, homelessness and death. But Jesus rejects this sort of behavior.

The final challenge is for Jesus to satisfy his ego by controlling God himself. The devil takes Jesus to the parapet of the temple and, using scripture, dares him to throw himself down. God will keep him safe. We face similar temptations. We use the scriptures to justify our beliefs and actions and to condemn others whose beliefs and actions may be contrary to our own. We hide behind ancient texts and outdated traditions that empower some while excluding others. We all want to think that God is on our side and so we twist and contort the sacred words to fit our reality. But Jesus rejects this sort of behavior.

These forty days of lent is an opportunity for each of us to pray and reflect on our own lives. Let this be a time to seek forgiveness with God and to discern our own vocations. Let this be a time to reflect on our situations and to reject the temptations that we encounter, both as individuals and as a community. Let this be a time to commit ourselves freely and totally to building up the Kingdom of God.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
First Sunday of Lent
February 17, 2013