First Sunday of Lent

  How many of you are dog lovers? What about cats? Birds? OK, what about snakes or lizards? Me, I am a dog lover. My dog’s name is Dymphna. One of the most difficult thing about having to go on disability and living at the priest retirement home is that I was not allowed to bring her there to live with me. I had gotten her as a puppy, and she will be 12 years-old next month. While I am sad that she cannot live with me, Dymphna has a good home — she is living with my Mom, so I get to see her often.

    This week I came across a story that really moved me, and I think has an important lesson as we start our Lenten journey. 

A little boy went into a pet shop to buy a puppy. He saw five puppies for sale, and asked the shop owner how much they cost. The man replied, "Some are fifty dollars, some are more."

The little boy pulled out his change, counted it, and announced that he had $1.47. The man said, "I'm sorry, but you'll just have to save your money and come back again."

Just then, the man's wife brought out another puppy from the back of the store. It was smaller, had a crippled leg, and limped badly when it tried to walk. They explained that this one had been born without a hip socket and would always be lame.

"I wish I had the money to buy that one!" exclaimed the little boy with excitement. "It's not for sale," said the man, "but I'll gladly give him to you for free.” But the little boy refused, saying: "No, sir. That little dog is worth just as much as the others. I'll give you a dollar and forty-seven cents now, and fifty cents a month until I have paid in full."

Confused, the man asked, "Why do you want a dog that will never run and play like the other puppies?” The boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg, supported by a metal brace. He said, "Mister, I don't run and play too well myself. I think this little puppy will need someone like me who understands."

That's the Catholic faith in a nutshell: Jesus became just like us, paid the full price of our sins, and offers us salvation, just because he loves us.

Two images from nature dominate this First Sunday of Lent. In these images we find the key for living the next six weeks deeply and fruitfully, as God is hoping we will live them.

The first image is that of the desert. After Jesus was baptized, but before he began his years of public ministry, St Mark tells us in today's Gospel that the Spirit "drove Jesus out into the desert," where he experienced temptation.

Throughout the Bible, the desert is often referred to a place of testing, where we experience our weakness and dependence on God. Water and food are hard to come by there, and the temperatures and emptiness are oppressive to both the body and the mind. The desert is a place where our illusions of self-sufficiency and comfort fade away.

When we are in the desert, either literally or figuratively, we quickly realize that we need God. In other words, the desert is the opposite of the Garden of Eden. It is the place of suffering and hardship that sin has led us to. Both original sin and also our own personal sins have interfered with God's plan for our lives and for our world; they have put us in need of salvation.

The second image in today's Readings is the flood, the abundance of water that cleansed the world of sin at the time of Noah. That ancient flood of water foreshadowed Christian baptism, the flood of grace that purifies our souls from sin, bringing new spiritual life into the desert of our sin-damaged hearts. 

Sin and salvation: our sins, and Christ's loving sacrifice that leads to salvation. These are the most fundamental aspects of our Catholic faith, and these are the themes that should fill our hearts and minds throughout the season of Lent.

Besides the desert and the flood, there is another, third, image from nature in today's Readings: the rainbow. Noah probably didn't know the scientific explanation behind rainbows, but he did understand their spiritual meaning.

All of creation has a physical nature that science explores and explains. But creation also has a spiritual meaning - it is a gift from our God, a gift full of messages, lessons, and inspiration. Science can explain the prismatic refraction of light in a rainbow, but it cannot explain the thrill of wonder that fills our hearts we behold that same rainbow.

A rainbow appears when sunlight and storm clouds come together. And God chose this as a symbol of his covenant, of his promise that salvation would conquer sin. That covenant and that promise still stand; we have to put our hope in them.

Jesus, as today's Second Reading reminds us so beautifully, has suffered, died, risen from the dead, and ascended into heaven, conquering sin and evil once and for all. The crucifix is our rainbow; the cross of Christ is our Ark. No storm can cancel out Christ's victory over evil; no clouds can reverse it; no flood can extinguish it. And so, while we suffer in the storms of hardship and sin that make our lives and world so painful and difficult, we still continue to follow Christ, because the light of his love shines brightly even in the midst of the storm.

Today we have the privilege to renew our hope once again through this Mass and Holy Communion, to be freshly inspired by a glimpse of our rainbow. When we see a rainbow in the sky, the first thing we do is tell those around us, so they will see it too. This Lent, let's do the same with the rainbow that shines in our Christian hearts.