Lent begins – as it does each year – with the familiar story of the temptations of Jesus.  Because we have heard it so often, we can easily dismiss it as “same old, same old.”  We hear the words, but miss the meaning; we don’t allow them to really challenge us … and thereby, heal us.   

For the Word of God to mean anything, we have to take it personally.  As a word spoken directly to me – right now, right here, in the present circumstances of my life, whatever they might be.  In our first reading today, the people of Israel are encouraged not just to remember a past event: something that happened to someone else, a long time ago.  It’s all in the first person: “MY ancestor was a wandering Aramean … WE cried out to the Lord in our affliction … he heard US and rescued US from slavery … he brought US into our promised land.”

In other words, we can’t keep the Word at a safe distance.  We have to allow it in: to comfort us and challenge us, to give us peace and to shake us up.  We have to encounter it “Up Close and Personal”, so to speak. What happens when we do this with today’s Gospel? 

Luke speaks to us of the temptations of Jesus.  Now temptation – that’s something we’re all familiar with, isn’t it?  Often we confuse temptation with sin – as if giving into it, sooner or later, is the necessary, eventual outcome.  As the Irish wit Oscar Wilde once quipped, “I can resist everything … except temptation.” 

We all struggle with temptation.  As the Gospel reminds us today, so did Jesus.  We pray not to be “led into” temptation, but it has always been a dimension of human experience. Spiritual wisdom exhorts us to avoid temptation by fleeing “the near occasion of sin”: for the most part, it’s very good advice.  We should not knowingly be placing ourselves in situations where we know ourselves likely to fall into sin – thereby doing damage to ourselves, to others, and to our relationship with God. 

Why then, does a good God allow us to be tempted? It is a question worth asking!  It is only when we are tempted that we discover our boundaries, our strengths and weaknesses, our moral capacities and our moral limits.  Psychologists and theologians who have studied the developmental stages people go through morally and spiritually – that complex process by which a person’s conscience is shaped and formed – have noted that often, it is only in crossing a boundary that we learn what it is, and choose to respect it in the future.  God allows these moments of temptation because they are part of our arduous path to self-knowledge. And how we deal with the “small” temptations will be revelatory of patterns shaping larger, more momentous decisions.    

So what light does today’s Gospel shed on the experience of temptation in our own lives?  As we read the Gospel of Luke, uniquely focused on the work of the Holy Spirit, we can learn from the experience of Jesus.  Filled with the Spirit after his baptism in the Jordan, Jesus is led by that same Spirit “into the wilderness”.  Because the Spirit is there, even though Jesus is alone, he is not abandoned; though hungry, He is not empty; though vulnerable, he is not insecure.  Jesus remembers who he is; Jesus knows to Whom he belongs; thus, Jesus is secure in his mission.

In the desert, Jesus confronts the same temptations we do when we feel lonely, deprived, or vulnerable.  It is tempting to fill our inner void, our spiritual hunger, our deepest desires, with that which fails to satisfy: restless activity, material possessions, food and drink, TV and Internet, mindless distractions!  To live much of the time as if God does not exist – and then to expect a “command performance” the moment we find ourselves in great need. To worship the idols of worldly power and prestige, seeking my identity in these, rather than trust in the living God who says to me: “You are my beloved child: in you I am well pleased.” 

The mystery of divine mercy is contained here: Jesus knows who He is, and remembers whose He is. Though tempted in every way, he remains without sin. Being human, our own struggle with temptation does not always conclude so heroically, and Oscar Wilde’s view of temptation seems closer to our experience than that of Our Lord!  But Jesus opens up the hope for the possibility of hearing another voice even stronger than the one of the Tempter.  For the wilderness is not only the place of temptation, but ALSO the place of God’s revelation: “The wilderness will lead you to your heart, where I will speak,” says Yahweh to the prophet Hosea.  In the Gospel we proclaimed on Ash Wednesday, Jesus invites us to go within: into our room, into our “inner space”, that secret and mysterious place where we are alone with God, whose voice echoes within us, the one in whom we live, and move, and have our being. 

So inspired by the example of Jesus, let us follow the lead of the Spirit into the desert, into our own personal wilderness.  Yes, it will be scary at times; and we may well feel hungry, vulnerable, and alone.  But we will not be alone.  Because we walk this Lenten journey together, we can count on the friendship and prayers of our fellow travelers to sustain us in our weakness. 

Most importantly, we will meet Jesus there.  He does not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to resist.  But even should we fall – as let’s face it, most of us often do – let us never forget that He is there.  Not as judge, but as One who understands us, because He too has known temptation, ready to extend a forgiving and compassionate hand to us, lifting us up as “on eagle’s wings.”  

When we experience the infinite mercy and unconditional love of God offered to us by and in Jesus, we are called to respond by extending these to others: through concrete works of mercy, through deliberate acts of kindness and compassion. As Brian McDonough leads our CAFÉ this Wednesday evening on the “two feet of love in action”, we will be reminded that far from being opposed to each other, “justice and love interact with each other to promote the common good.”  And what better way to extend mercy to others than by putting into practice, as Pope Francis has encouraged us to do, what are traditionally known as “the corporal and spiritual works of mercy”: 

It is my burning desire that, during this Jubilee, the Christian people may reflect on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Let us enter more deeply into the heart of the Gospel where the poor have a special experience of God’s mercy. Jesus introduces us to these works of mercy in his preaching so that we can know whether or not we are living as his disciples. Let us rediscover these corporal works of mercy: to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, heal the sick, visit the imprisoned, and bury the dead. And let us not forget the spiritual works of mercy: to counsel the doubtful, instruct the ignorant, admonish sinners, comfort the afflicted, forgive offences, bear patiently those who do us ill, and pray for the living and the dead.

We cannot escape the Lord’s words to us, and they will serve as the criteria upon which we will be judged. Moreover, we will be asked if we have helped others to escape the doubt that causes them to fall into despair and  loneliness; if we have helped to overcome the ignorance in which millions of people live, especially children deprived of the necessary means to free them from the bonds of poverty; if we have been close to the lonely and afflicted; if we have forgiven those who have offended us and have rejected all forms of anger and hate that lead to violence; if we have had the kind of patience God shows, who is so patient with us; and if we have commended our brothers and sisters to the Lord in prayer. In each of these “little ones,” Christ himself is present.