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The Roman Catholic Monastery of the Holy Cross was founded in 1989 and became a Benedictine house of the Subiaco Congregation in 2000. We follow a traditional contemplative life, chanting Psalms seven times a day and singing Gregorian chant at the Eucharist. We do this in a distinctive way by living our monastic life on the South Side of Chicago. Prior Peter, the author of this blog, was appointed Prior in August of 2004.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

First Sunday of Lent: Dom Peter

First Sunday of Lent, 2006
Repent and believe the Good News: Lent is here!

A friend of mine once shared with me his experience of fasting. He took it on faith that the practice had value, but in practice he found that it made him angry and difficult to live with, so he gave it up, at least for now. I have had a similar response when I have tried to give up, or even just reduce caffeine for Lent. Actually, let me admit, that I have a similar feeling every morning when we sing the office of Vigils, and as cantor I begin Psalm 94 (95): “Come, ring our joy to the Lord!” Now, I’m a morning person, but even I come up short most days having to sing at 5:00 a.m., when I’d rather be sipping a cappuccino and reading Dante. Much more to my liking is Psalm 3, which precedes Psalm 94, “How, many are my foes, O Lord…break the teeth of the wicked!” And perhaps here we have a reason why Saint Benedict put them together.

Saint Benedict wanted his monks to chant Psalm 94 each day because his own spiritual theology is closely mirrored in it. Saint Benedict wants his monks to be aware of God’s presence at all times and listening for Him: “O that today you would listen to His voice!” Conversely, at six different places in the Rule, Saint Benedict bans murmuring or complaining. And so the Psalm continues, “Harden not your hearts as…on that day at Massah in the desert when your fathers put Me to the test.”

“When you gain a friend, gain him through testing, and do not trust him hastily,” says Ben Sirach (6:7). This morning, Jesus goes out to the desert in imitation of His fathers in the flesh. Just as God had ordered Pharaoh to let Israel go into the desert and in doing so called Israel, my Son, so too, after Jesus’ baptism, where the voice from heaven identifies Him as the Son of God, He also goes into the desert. There He is tested. We follow this same pattern: claimed by God as His sons and daughters by our baptism, our lives should be something like a continual Lent, at least as viewed by those outside the Church. But, as Saint Benedict says, since few have this strength, at least in the days leading up to the celebration of Christ’s triumph at Easter, we should be true sons and daughters of God. Jesus will refer to us as friends at the Last Supper: and here is our chance to be tested by our abstinence, generosity and assiduous prayer throughout these forty days.

Like our fathers in the desert however, when we come up against obstacles, our first impulse is usually to put God to the test rather than acknowledging that this is forbidden to us, as Jesus reminds Satan in Matthew and Luke’s version of the temptation. When we are hungry or have that caffeine headache or try to be silent and find our minds buzzing away with 24/7 commentary on our busy lives, our usual first response is to blame someone else for our weakness. This is what Freud identified as the defense mechanism of projection. So we get angry at the unfortunate brother who passes by, we shake the baby or kick the cat. In some cases, perhaps by those of us slightly more sensitive, we may instead turn in on ourselves and despair. But this is not allowed either: believe the Good News! Why the long face? Why so slow of heart to believe? But what are we to believe, and why should it make us eager to repent, eager even to be tested?

“Never again will I destroy all bodily creatures,” God promises Noah in the first reading today. God promises never to send such a flood again. But the flood serves as a warning and a teaching, or as a ‘type’ as Saint Peter tells us, in this case, a foreshadowing of baptism. But this baptism does not primarily affect the body: rather it affects the soul. It offers us the chance of a clear conscience. This gift will be prized by all who recognize their consciences as muddied in some way. And this includes us all, if we have the humility and fortitude to face up to it. “No one knows himself except by be tested, or receives a crown except after victory,” says Saint Augustine. Through our testing during Lent, we will come closer to knowing the truth about ourselves. And knowing the truth about ourselves will dispose us to greet with genuine joy the announcement of the Good News. There is no Good News without repentance, as there is no crown without a victory. And the Good News the victory is this: Jesus Christ has been tested and has triumphed over all of the forces that we find too strong for ourselves: our anger, our concupiscence, our sadness, whatever demons hold us bound, their days are numbered because Christ has battled Satan and defeated once and for all. It is for us to trust in this victory, to undergo the test with Christ so that we may triumph with Him. Let us hold firm to the knowledge of His victory, after which He assumes the crown: “The Kingdom of God is at hand, and I am King!” He proclaims.

We will be tempted this Lent to give up on our good resolutions, tempted to give in to anger or sadness or boredom. We are being tested so as to know the Truth that will set us free. Will we give up, or will we repent and believe the Good News?

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