St. Thomas More Chicago

Father Robert Behnke

The First Sunday of Lent, March 13, 2011
During my experience of nearly 38 years of hearing confessions, something that amuses me, saddens me, and puzzles me – all at the same time – is the occasional penitent who begins their confession with words something like …Father, I have nothing to tell you…, or,…Father, I really have nothing to confess…or words to that effect.  Apart from the fact that the sacrament cannot take place without the confession of some sin (even a forgiven sin from the past; in one parish I had an older parishioner who came every Saturday to confess an abortion that had taken place years earlier, but this individual confessed it again and again, Saturday after Saturday, so full of sorrow were they), two questions come to me.  The first, which I never ask, though I would like to do so, is Then why are you here?  The other question, which I often – nearly always – ask is Will you please tell me your secret, because I never have a difficulty in thinking of sins to confess when I go to the sacrament myself?  But, on reflection, I sense those who say they have nothing to confess are perhaps saying I want to be a good Catholic, and I know confession is part of that, so I am here–I just don’t know what I can or should say.  And that, I sense, is a symptom of the much greater problem of so many Catholics–probably the majority – who never go to confession.
We are faced on this 2011 First Sunday of Lent, as we are each year, with the Gospel’s account of Our Lord’s temptation by Satan.  Now it would seem that, if a man could not possibly sin, then he could not be tempted. Indeed, in our fallen condition, we experience temptation as a real choice–when tempted, we really could fall.  Moreover, we know that those who are so conformed to God as to be entirely freed from the possibility of sin-the saints and angels in heaven-these are also freed from all temptations.  Yet, when it comes to the person of Christ, a doubt perhaps arises.  We are inclined to think that Christ could not sin–since, of course, He is fully God.  Yet, on the other hand, we know that Jesus was truly and really tempted by Satan; the Gospel tonight tells us so.  Thus, the question: could Christ have sinned when tempted by Satan?  Moreover, if Our Lord could not sin, how can we say He was truly tempted?
In asking this, we attempt a human understanding of a profound divine mystery: Jesus Christ is an altogether unique Man-a Man Who is God.  Our Lord is a Divine Person with two natures, God and Man.  Thus, the question really is: Could God sin?  The answer, simply and absolutely: no.  It is an absolute impossibility for God to sin.  God did not make sin, nor could He make sin – for He is perfect Goodness and Love.  Plus, to sin is not an ability, but rather an inability.  The possibility of sinning is a defect, a weakness, an inability, an imperfection.  Precisely because God is perfectly free and all powerful, He is impeccable, unable to sin.  And because Our Lord is the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, He could never sin.  Moreover, even Our Lord in his humanity could not sin.  From the first moment of His existence, Jesus Christ enjoyed the beatific vision–He enjoyed the knowledge and love of God which is given the blessed in heaven, none of whom can sin.   Yet sin and temptation are not the same.  Sinning is not somehow a necessary part of human nature and human freedom.  Adam’s fall was devastating to human nature; man was not created to be a sinner.  The sin of Adam did not liberate man but enslaved him. Therefore, Christ’s freedom from sin in no way makes Him less human, but rather makes Him the perfect Man.  But Man He is still, and so as Man He is subject to temptation.  The Gospel shows us this today; these temptations were truly waged against Him by His mortal Enemy, Satan, the Father of Lies.  Moreover, we may add that Christ’s temptation was even more intense than our own–since He persevered through to the end.  He suffered temptation longer and more intensely than has any other man, but He did so without sin (because He had no inclination to sin as do we, as a result of the sin of Adam) and He suffered temptation without even the possibility of sin.
            At his excellent first class on the Holy Eucharist this past Thursday, Father Reese reminded us that Our Lord could have redeemed and saved the world with just a thought and by His shedding but a single drop of His blood.  Why then the temptations, the agony, the scourging, the crown of thorns, the nails, the cross?  Father Reese’s answer was the very same I heard from Sister Adalena when I was in the second grade: our sins were so great, but God’s love was even greater.  Greater even than the sin of Adam, who was, when he introduced the world to sin, the perfect man-Adam was man as God originally created and intended man to be.  God’s love is greater even than all the sins of all the centuries from Adam to now.  Greater even than the sins of all the genocidal holocausts of the 20th century-the Armenian, the Ukrainian, the Jewish, the Rwandan.  Greater even than the genocide going on right now in Libya.  Greater even than the genocidal holocaust going on right now under our very noses in abortion mills all over the United States and all over the world (just in New York City, last year there were 55,391 deaths from all causes other than abortion; there were from abortion 82,475 deaths).  If we but consider for a moment the sheer magnitude of God’s love made incarnate in the life and death and resurrection of Our Lord, a love greater still than all the sins committed since the world’s creation, a love manifested in the drama of His suffering and death because of the greatness of the world’s sins, how could anyone ever say with a straight face…I have nothing to confess?
            The sin of many in our time seems to be the sin of self-satisfaction: I am satisfied with myself, with my life, with the way things are going; I have nothing for which to apologize to anyone, including God, and I neither can nor want to get any better because I am pretty much perfect as I am.  Whoever may have those sentiments needs to know that they have been placed in their hearts by the Father of Lies and the Prince of Darkness.  Father Campbell reminded us at dinner last night of something Pope Benedict has said, more than once: the world acts today as if God makes no difference; He is irrelevant.  This, too, was the sin of Adam, who in effect said to God You are irrelevant to my happiness, to what I want, to what I will do.  I could easily imagine hearing Adam say to God, I have nothing to confess to You, because I have no need of You.  Each time one of God’s human creatures, and especially one of His adopted children, speaks those unfortunate words, the Father of Lies dances with glee.
            In the face of a world that thinks God is irrelevant, those who know that God is God and we are not, must witness to an unbelieving, nearly diabolical world, the practice of the presence of God.  Practicing this awareness of God’s presence is always a work in progress.  How easily are we distracted; how hard it is to be aware of Our Lord’s role in all that we are and do.  Because of our tendency to forget, we may make a firm resolution to remember God at the start of our day, and then become so immersed in the requirements of our day’s responsibilities and activities that we emerge at the end of a hectic and taxing day only to realize we have not turned toward God even once.  So we should set for ourselves personal reminders-a selection of specific triggers-at intervals during our day to lift us out of our mundane absorptions and awaken us to opportunities to turn to God.  For example, that is the purpose of church bells, ringing the Angelus, or the time for Mass, reminding us to pray or to hurry to Mass.  Interestingly, church bells are blessed with the Oil of the Sick, as a way of joining those too sick to come to Mass to join their suffering to the offering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  For some, a reminder might be the ringing of the telephone (always at the worst of times); the ringing could serve as a reminder to say a prayer asking God for patience.  When a baby cries, the cry could serve as a reminder to a mother who might ask Our Lady to help her to respond to her little one in union with Mary’s Immaculate Heart, and to place herself before the Infant Jesus at one with her child, and to gaze on Him with love.  A plumber is called to a home, he can pray that the grace of baptism will reach and cleanse each member of that household.  A loan officer at a local bank may ask God on behalf of each new client for the wisdom to use resources prudently and for God’s glory.  A road worker might offer quick petitions for the safety of the motorists who must navigate the work zone.  An elderly man or woman could choose to invoke Saint Joseph every time he or she feels their age in the pain of muscle or joint.  It really does take practice to make these things work, lest we too frequently fail to observe the signs we have chosen, and so only rarely pause in moments of deeper recognition and simple prayer.  Our world has tried its best to remove or ignore reminders of the reality of temptation, sin, and salvation by divine love.  But habits which acknowledge God’s enduring presence can be formed with such reminders to which we have chosen to give our attention, and more and more we may be always ready to turn toward the One who made us.  And in time the world will notice.
This effort never ends, but it does grow easier as it becomes habitual.  Gradually we learn to focus frequently on the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit, whether directly or through the intercession of Mary or one of the saints.  This is a school of sanctity.  In this school, we become ever more perfectly oriented toward God, and ever more finely tuned to His will.  In the end, we can become almost continuously aware of God’s presence, providence and love.  The distance between earth and heaven grows short.  We become ready, at last, for something more-for heaven itself.  And we will make the Father of Lies weep and grind his teeth-because the world will notice.
The liturgy tonight reminds us that Our Lord allowed Himself to be tempted as we are; He chose to suffer, more than we ever would or could, because sin is so pervasive, but not more pervasive than the pervasiveness of Our Lord’s love.  If much of our world thinks God makes no difference; if the world thinks it owes God no apology; if the world thinks it has nothing to confess; if sin continues rampant in our world; if the world chooses to give in to the Father of Lies, we know better; so we will do otherwise.  We know sins are great, but we know His love is greater.  He chose to overcome the sin of the world by His love.  So He was tempted; so He suffered; so He died.  When you’re right, you can’t be wrong.  When You’re God, You’re always right.  God makes all the difference.  And the world cannot help but notice the difference.
Father Behnke