A Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent (Year A)
February 26, 2023
Text: Matthew 4:1-11
Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I have a confession to make, and since we’re now in the season of Lent, it seems like a good time to make a confession. So, here it is…
I really don’t like Lent all that much. I know that may be surprising for you to hear coming from a priest, but bear with me for a moment.
When I say that I don’t like Lent all that much, what I really mean is that I tolerate it in the same way I tolerate going to the dentist twice a year. I know that it’s good for me and that, in the end, I’ll be glad that I did it.
But, it’s not something I look forward to. Maybe you feel the same way as I do.
Lent is a sacred time in the life of the Church—a period of forty days and forty nights (not including Sundays)—set apart for the purpose of mending our broken relationships with God. It’s a period of time we’re given each year to be intentional about falling back in love with God—to reconnect with the one who formed us from the dust of the earth.
Historically, Lent is also a time when converts to the Christian faith were prepared for the sacrament of Holy Baptism, which would be administered during the Great Vigil of Easter, and to this day, Lent remains a time for deep, spiritual formation for those preparing to be baptized.
The reason why I compare Lent to an appointment with the dentist is because I know that, in order to reconnect with God, as we’re invited to do during this time of the year, I have to be willing to make some changes in my life, which is something I really don’t want to do. I know that, in order to “do Lent” well, I have to be willing to let go of my need for control and my belief that I can do everything on my own.
In the days and weeks leading up to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent, we’re encouraged to think about what our Lenten spiritual disciplines will be. I talked a little bit about this in my sermon on Ash Wednesday.
We ask ourselves, “What am I going to give up during Lent this year? Will it be chocolate? Will it be coffee? Will it be some other indulgence? Or, will it be taking on a new spiritual discipline? Will it be spending more time each day in prayer? Will it be volunteering more of my time at church? Will it be reading a book of daily devotions each day during Lent or some other practice that goes beyond my normal routine?”
Every year, I ask myself those same questions, and most of the time, I wait until the very last minute to decide. I put it off as long as I can because it’s something I really don’t want to do even though I know it’s something I need to do.
More often than not, I try to convince myself that life is already hard enough without having to give something else up or take something else on. Life is already stressful and complicated enough without having to worry about adding something else to my ever-growing list of things to do.
Perhaps you feel the same way as I do about Lent, and if you do, you’re in good company.
We know deep down that it’s good for us, but we struggle to put in the extra time and effort required to do it well. And then, when we don’t do it, we end up feeling guilty about it, as though we disappointed God.
Most of us, I think, would much rather go about the days and weeks of Lent as if nothing has changed. We’d much rather skip over our time in the wilderness with Jesus and go straight to Easter morning.
The problem with this way of thinking, though, is that it can cause us to miss the point of Lent altogether. It’s not about giving something up or taking something on just to say that we’ve done it. It’s not about adding something extra to our daily list of things to do. It’s about taking stock of our lives and paying special attention to those things that have control over us—the things we often use to make ourselves feel better apart from God.
Barbara Brown Taylor preached about this in a sermon she once wrote, referring to those things in our lives that have control over us as “pacifiers,” the things we often use to help fill the empty spaces in our hearts.
She wrote, “I am convinced that ninety-nine percent of us are addicted to something, whether it is eating, shopping, blaming, or taking care of other people. The simplest definition of an addiction is anything we use to fill the empty place inside of us that belongs to God alone. That hollowness we sometimes feel is not a sign of something gone wrong. It is the holy of holies inside of us, the uncluttered throne room of the Lord our God. Nothing on earth can fill it, but that does not stop us from trying.”
Lent is a time for us to be reminded of the fact that nothing on earth, no material thing or possession or habit, can fill the space in our hearts reserved only for God. It’s not just about what we choose to give up or take on. The purpose of Lent is for us to spend some time in the wilderness, to be mindful of those “pacifiers” that tempt us to put our trust in things other than God, and to recommit ourselves to the work that God has called us to do in our lives.
Jesus’s forty-day journey through the wilderness provides us with an example to live by as we make our way through the season of Lent. In the Gospel story, shortly after his baptism, Jesus is driven into the wilderness by the Spirit, where he’s tempted by the devil three times.
Each temptation is particular because the devil knows who Jesus is, and he knows what will tempt Jesus to use his power.
In his first temptation, Jesus is hungry, and the devil says to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” Knowing that the devil is trying to convince him to use his power to satisfy his hunger, Jesus responds with a quote from the book of Deuteronomy.
“It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”
Then, the devil takes Jesus to Jerusalem and places him on the pinnacle of the temple and says to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Knowing that the devil is trying to tempt him to use his power for safety and protection, Jesus once again responds with a quote from Deuteronomy.
“It is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
Finally, the devil takes Jesus to the the top of a high mountain in plain view of all the kingdoms of the world and says to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Knowing that the devil is trying to seduce him with promises of power and dominion, Jesus responds yet again with a quote from Deuteronomy.
“It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”
The devil tempted Jesus to use his power to relieve his hunger, but Jesus denied him.
The devil tempted Jesus to use his power to save himself, but Jesus denied him.
The devil tempted Jesus with power and dominion over the world, but Jesus denied him.
Jesus knows what it feels like to be tempted by the most tempting things imaginable, and yet, despite the best efforts of the devil to deceive him, Jesus refuses to let his temptations control him.
Jesus refuses to put his trust in things other than God.
What kinds of fears and temptations are you struggling with in your life?
How are you being tempted to fill your heart with things other than God?
As we continue our journey through Lent, I invite and encourage all of us to consider these questions and to be honest with ourselves about those places in our lives that need special attention so that we may grow in love with God.
As you consider these questions, I commend to you a poem that I came across several years ago that’s always been meaningful to me. It was written by a Jesuit priest named Pedro Arrupe.
What I love about it so much is that it beautifully captures the true purpose of the season of Lent, which is to fall back in love with the God who created us and to make a place in our hearts for God.
The title of the poem is, “Fall in Love.”
Nothing is more practical than finding God,
than falling in Love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart, and
what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
Amen.
The Rev. Eric Mancil 