Reflections with Fr. James

The first move of the serpent in Genesis 3 is a spiritual one. He plants suspicion about the fatherhood of God. Once Eve starts to imagine God as a rival, disobedience begins to look like freedom. This weekend’s Gospel places Jesus in the desert to meet that same ancient lie with power. In the wilderness, Jesus refuses to test the Father. He stands in the truth, and he stands there as the new Adam, repairing what was broken at the beginning.

Saint Irenaeus explains this well, by putting the fall and redemption in dialogue:

“As through a disobedient virgin man was stricken down and fell into death, so through the Virgin, who was obedient to the word of God, man was revived and received life. For the Lord came to seek back again the lost sheep; and it was man who was lost. And, therefore, he did not become any other being but man, thus taking up the ancient creation, that he might kill sin, deprive death of its power, and vivify mankind” (Against Heresies, Book III).

Lent leads us into this recovery of trust. Jesus in the desert is not only our example; he is also our Savior who fights our battles for us. In Lent, we remember that his victory becomes ours, and the Father’s trustworthiness can then be believable again in the depths of our souls.

“[God] has set before you fire and water
to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand.
Before man are life and death, good and evil,
whichever he chooses shall be given him” (Sir 15:17).

The spiritual life is shaped through decisions. Each day presents moments where we move closer to God or move away from Him.

St. Gregory of Nyssa describes this process:

“Human nature is always in motion and never remains fixed. It is continually being changed into what it chooses. By its inclinations it takes on the form of what it loves. If it inclines toward the good, it grows in goodness and becomes more radiant. If it turns toward what is base, it is darkened and takes on the likeness of what is inferior. Thus, the soul is fashioned according to its choices, and the direction of the will becomes the form of the life” (The Life of Moses, Part II, 2-3).

We do not remain the same from one day to the next. Each decision leaves a mark. God gives us freedom, and he also gives us the grace to choose. This week, pay attention to one situation where a deliberate choice is needed. In that moment, remember the image from Sirach. Will you stretch out your hand towards water or flame? Over time, the life you choose becomes the person you become.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted.” This Beatitude is more than a spiritual metaphor. Across the world today, Christians continue to face imprisonment, violence, and even death for faith in Christ. In many places, simply gathering for the Eucharist carries real risk. For many others, persecution takes the form of ridicule, slander, threats, professional harm, and deliberate attempts to bring another to harm or ruin.

This Sunday’s first reading from Isaiah says: “If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech [...] then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday.” Isaiah recognizes that persecution often begins with words. False accusation and malicious speech are tools used to weaken and isolate. When these are rejected, light can arise. When they are tolerated, darkness spreads.

Saint Oscar Romero, martyred at the altar in 1980, taught that this Beatitude belongs to the Church in every age. He understood persecution as a sign of authenticity, since a Church that lives the Gospel disturbs systems built on injustice and fear. Faithfulness causes resistance to anti-Christian ideologies because it exposes idols and falsehoods. May we ask for the grace to reject malicious speech and thoughts in our own lives, and to remain faithful to Christ.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus opens his teaching with the Beatitudes. They are a unified description of the interior life. The Beatitudes trace the formation of the Christian way of life, beginning with humility and culminating in peace and perseverance.

Saint Augustine describes this ordered structure:
“The order of these Beatitudes is most beautiful. First comes humility: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit,’ for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Then meekness follows: ‘Blessed are the meek.’ Third comes mourning: ‘Blessed are those who mourn.’ Fourth is the desire for righteousness: ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.’ Fifth is mercy: ‘Blessed are the merciful.’ Sixth is purity of heart: ‘Blessed are the clean of heart.’ Seventh is peace: ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’ Eighth comes endurance of persecutions for the sake of righteousness. By these steps the soul is brought to perfection.” (De Sermone Domini in Monte, Book I, Ch. 3)

For Augustine, the Beatitudes describe a progressive formation of the soul. Humility grounds the entire sequence and opens the soul to God. From this interior disposition comes mercy, purity of heart, and peace. Perseverance under trial marks the maturity of Christian life. Read in this way, the Beatitudes present a complete vision of Christian beatitude, that is, happiness.

Time is where our lives take place. It is the space in which God addresses us and draws us forward into his eternity.

Modern life encourages efficiency and constant movement. Days are often measured by output and deadlines. This reality can even enter our churches. The Catholic tradition invites a different posture. Time is first received by the soul as a sacred gift.

Ratzinger returned often to this theme. Because God has entered history in Jesus Christ, time carries weight and direction. Each moment belongs within a story shaped by God’s presence. When we attend to time properly, we learn to remain with the present moment and to recognize how God works patiently.

Ordinary Time provides a steady rhythm for this way of living. The Church slows our pace and trains us to live each day well. In doing so, she teaches us to trust the gradual work of God. When time is received as gift, each moment becomes a place of encounter with God and those around us.

Preaching should begin from dogma. For Pope Benedict XVI, this was never an abstract principle. What the Church confesses should shape how the Church speaks, and how Christians live within time. At the center stands the confession that Jesus Christ is true God and true man. Because of this, time is neither closed in on itself nor without purpose. History has a direction because God has entered it. In Introduction to Christianity, Ratzinger reflects on this consequence of the Incarnation:

“Christian faith does not proclaim a timeless idea, but an event. It does not speak of an eternal cycle, but of a history that has meaning because God has acted within it. The Incarnation anchors time in God himself. From that moment on, time is no longer merely passing away; it is moving toward fulfillment. What has been lived is not lost, and what is awaited is already anticipated, because the eternal has entered the temporal.” (Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, 227-228).

As the year unfolds, the Church invites us to live our time in this light, confident that every moment is drawn into God’s saving work in Christ.

January invites reflection on time. We might linger with this question beyond New Year’s Day. In his preaching and theology, Joseph Ratzinger, and later Pope Benedict XVI, returns often to the theme. In a New Year’s Eve homily, he observed that the passing year is not erased, but entrusted to God’s mercy, where every moment remains present before Him, since he is eternal.

Benedict believed that the liturgy is a way for us to slow down time and enter into God’s eternity. He once wrote, “The liturgy is not concerned with time in the ordinary sense, but with God’s time. It draws us out of what is merely momentary and inserts us into the great ‘today’ of God. In this way, it liberates us from the tyranny of the clock. Time becomes meaningful because it opens toward eternity. In the liturgy, the past is not simply past, and the future not merely future. The Paschal Mystery of Christ transcends time, and yet it is present in time. Thus human time is taken up into God’s time and transformed.” (Joseph Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy, 70-71).

As we enter into the new year, the Church teaches us to receive time as a gift of God. Through prayer, liturgy and contemplation, we are invited to enter God’s eternity.