First Sunday of Lent. Today’s readings: Deuteronomy 26,4-10; Romans 10,8-13; Luke 4,1-13
We are all reeling from the shocking news where the Oval Office became a diplomatic battlefield with President Trump and President Zelensky locked in a heated debate. What began as a cordial meeting between two heads of state quickly deteriorated into a deadlock, leaving bruises and wounds that will take time to heal.
Indeed, in an argument, more heat than light is generated. In a complex political situation where the contours of friend and foe are not totally clear and where one’s allegiances are questioned or even doubted, the future holds a degree of uncertainty. Whether reaching a peaceful resolution with Russia is still nowhere in sight, as Zelensky believes, or about to become a reality, as Trump would counter, the war rages on.
As we embark on the beautiful season of Lent, we are reminded that blood and sweat do not belong merely to contexts of military engagement. Much like Jesus in the desert, who fought off the devil’s temptations with astuteness that surpassed that of the ancient serpent, it is imperative that we ward off those cunning lies and subtle enticements that scramble like missiles towards us.
We would do well to remember the baptismal formula that precedes the actual christening, whereby those present are invited by the priest or deacon to take their stand against our archenemy: Do you renounce Satan? And all his works? And all his empty promises? To each of these, the congregation replies: “I do.” The response is in the singular because such a renunciation is a personal matter, as is the faith in the Trinity that is professed soon afterwards.
Christianity is not the passive acceptance of dogma, but a daily commitment to following Jesus through thick and thin
Fuga mundi (Latin for “escape from the world”) was a practice common in the early centuries of the Church, whereby men and women went to live in the desert. They did so not because the city was evil, but because they wanted to face their demons and fight them. This so-called pugna daemonum was a battle waged against their own disordered desires, attachments and worldly distractions in order to focus more intently on God. The process they embarked on was one of self-discovery, which is necessary for anyone to attain true freedom.
Interestingly, the devil’s first tactic employed was to try to make Jesus doubt his real identity: “If you are the Son of God…”. Likewise, because sin draws us into the mire, we can only rise above all forms of temptation if we are fully aware of our own identity in Christ. Pope Leo the Great’s famous admonition is an antidote against the allurement of the Evil One: “O Christian, recognise your dignity.”
The Cost of Discipleship, by Dietrich BonhoefferIn the context of a growing Nazi regime that needed to be resisted, the Protestant pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote his seminal work The Cost of Discipleship. He argued that, in its effort to adapt to the requirements of society, the Church had often devalued the Gospel and had become satisfied with a minimum standard of obedience to the Lord. His distinction between cheap grace and costly grace makes it clear that following Christ is demanding, and that grace cannot be received unconditionally. Christianity is not the passive acceptance of dogma, but a daily commitment to following Jesus through thick and thin.
In a recent confession – where I myself was the penitent – the priest gave me a penance I was never given before. He asked me to make the sign of the cross once. Such a penance seemed deceptively simple, but its meaning is truly profound. The sign of the cross is a basic confession of faith in the Trinity, a renewal of baptism, a mark of discipleship, an acceptance of suffering, and a defence against evil. When facing any kind of struggle, making the sign of the cross thoughtfully and devoutly can be a surprisingly powerful gesture.