Sunday, February 22, 2026

The First Sunday in Lent, February 22, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josep Martinez-Cubero
The First Sunday in Lent, February 22, 2026

Saint Anthony of Egypt, the first well known dessert monk, said: “Whoever has not experienced temptation cannot enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. Without temptations no-one can be saved.”

Our Gospel reading this morning begins with “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” I’ll read it again. “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” This happens right after Jesus’ baptism. Let’s remember what took place then. I’ll read it: “And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” And, so, “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” Why, thank you so much Spirit, for this lovely Baptism present! I think I will have a great time!

The role of the Holy Spirit in this Gospel story can be quite perplexing. But I think the point is that we are beloved children of God and, with us God is well pleased. But watch out with all that “belovedness”! It is the same Spirit of God who loves us that will take us to the wilderness to face our own demons. And why? Well, because if you are anything like me, you don’t choose to enter the wilderness on your own.

That is what the Desert Monastics (the Desert Fathers and Mothers in Egypt, Syria and Palestine of the 3rd to 5th centuries) did, following the example of Jesus. They literally went to the wilderness to live in caves and deal with pain, loss and danger, and face temptation head on. They viewed temptation not as a sign of failure, but as an essential, inescapable part of the spiritual journey necessary for ongoing conversion, development of humility, strengthening of one's reliance on God. They believed that to live a life for God was to face temptations until one's last breath.

Most of us don’t normally volunteer for pain, loss, or danger. But the wilderness is still there for us, in the form of addictions, toxic relationships, corrupt governments or faulty leadership, anxious and reactive systems, debilitating illnesses, or sudden inexplicable deaths. You name it! The wilderness will always appear for all of us uninvited and unwelcomed. And it is filled with the temptations to become our own gods, and to want to control things and people to be exactly how we want them. In doing so we distance ourselves from God, and risk our relationships with creation, with each other, and with ourselves.

Jesus has come to the full realization of the mission he is to fulfill- to embody a new way of being in the world, to be a living demonstration of the power of love in action. To prepare for this mission, the Spirit leads him into the wilderness to encounter his own demons. He is "famished" after forty days of fasting. He is at the end of his physical strength, and he is alone. Spiritually, he must have been struggling to hang on to his identity as the glow of his baptism event recedes into the past. And it’s in this state of vulnerability (isn’t that always the case?) that the tempter comes ready to pull Jesus away from his vocation.

He is tempted in the same ways we are tempted- to misuse his power to satisfy his hunger and not trust the true power that comes by being in relationship with the one he calls Abba; to test God's love for him; to become his own god, like Adam and Eve had done. And temptations didn’t end for Jesus after those forty days in the wilderness. They continued throughout his ministry: the temptation not to take the Jerusalem Road, the temptation in the Garden of Gethsemane to not have to face the Cross, the temptation to come down from the cross. By refusing to succumb to the temptation to bypass the human experience, Jesus the Christ showed us that wholeness happens through the integration of the "God-image" within our humanity.

Temptations seem to all boil down to some basic categories. None of us has the power to make bread from stones, but we all share the temptation to expect and demand that the rest of the world answer to our immediate needs and wants. This temptation has to do with the illusion that we should never ever be uncomfortable and if we are, it is someone or something else's fault. In the devil’s economy, unmet desire is an aberration, not an integral part of what it means to be human. So, Jesus refused to turn stones into bread, but he will feed the hungry.

Most of us will not find ourselves at the pinnacle of the temple tempted to test God’s love by jumping and having the angels play catch. But we may be tempted to test the love of those around us by thinking that our superiority and specialness exempt us from rules and regulations and procedures. Or perhaps we think that if we are good enough, God will keep us protected from all harm. It’s a temptation that triggers our deepest fears about what it means to be human in a broken and dangerous world. But if the cross teaches us anything, it is that God’s beloved children bleed, ache, and die. We are loved in our humanity, not out of it. So, Jesus refused to jump off the pinnacle of the temple to test God’s protection, but he will, from the pinnacle of the cross, take the leap, surrendering himself completely to God’s embrace, and in so doing transforms death into eternal life.

And finally, most of us won’t be offered “all the kingdoms of the world” if we worship the devil. But if social media and the celebrity phenomena is any indication, we might just be worshiping what ought not be worshiped. It is a temptation that targets our egos. It has to do with compromising our spiritual life for power, visibility, recognition of our specialness and a moment in the spotlight and doing so by creating new deities and unfortunate sets of priorities. But Jesus’ version of significance requires humility and surrender. So, he refused political power, but he will proclaim God’s Reign of justice and peace.

Many of us have given up something for Lent: chocolate, alcohol, coffee, meat, social media, selfies! The goal is to sit with our hungers, our wants, our dependencies, and learn what they have to teach us. Can I not get what I want and still live? Can I lack and still live generously without abusing my privilege or exploiting resources all around me? Who is God when I am hungry for meaning, or intimacy, or purpose? As we follow Jesus into the wilderness, we can hear the voice of evil and recognize that we find it alluring. Temptation is part of the human condition, and Lent is not a time to do penance for being human. 

Perhaps the invitation for this season of Lent can be to lay low where we can discover that we can be human, loved and hungry at the same time. To lay low where we can discover that we can be human and hope and hurt at the same time. To lay low where we can discover that we can be human and vulnerable and beloved at the same time. I want to share with you a new melody by Daniel Schwandt of a Shaker text.

Lay me low, where the Lord can find me

Lay me low, where the Lord can hold me

Lay me low, where the Lord can bless me

Lay me low, oh, lay me low.

And we can trust that when God finds us, holds us, and blesses us, it won’t be manipulative. When God nourishes us, it may not necessarily be the food we’d choose for ourselves, but it will feed us.  And through us, if we will learn to share, it will feed the world. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Ash Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Holy Cross MonasteryWest Park, NY

Br. Scott Wesley Borden

Ash Wednesday, February 18, 2026


 
Ash Wednesday is the official start of the Season of Lent. So, if you haven’t finished all the chocolate, it's too late. 

Lent and Advent have a similar function in the calendar – they both provide a season of contemplation and reflection leading up to the defining events of Christian life; the birth of Jesus and the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

By tradition, there are two primary intentions for Lent. In the first half, we are called to reflect and repent. In the second, our focus is directed to Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem – to crucifixion... and resurrection.  

It is a somber, penitential season. It goes against our modern culture. Of course, standing apart from culture is just where we should want to be as followers of Jesus. 

I want to start by considering what Saint Benedict says about Lent: 

The life of a monk (and for the purposes of this sermon we are all monks...) ought to be a continuous Lent. Since few, however, have the strength for this, we urge the entire community during these days of Lent to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away in this holy season the negligence's of other times. This we can do in a fitting manner by refusing to indulge evil habits and by devoting ourselves to prayer with tears, to reading, to compunction of heart and self-denial.  

During these days ... let each one deny himself some food, drink, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting, and look forward to Holy Easter with joy and spiritual longing – Everyone should, however, make known to the abbot what he intends to do, since it ought to be done with the abbot’s prayer and approval. Whatever is undertaken without permission of the spiritual father will be reckoned as presumption and vainglory, not deserving a reward. Therefore, everything must be done with the abbot's approval. 

So, walk with me a bit down memory lane... When I was in 5th grade, nearly 60 years ago, a Roman Catholic classmate of mine announced at about this time of the year that she was giving up coffee for Lent. It was rather ingenious. She was required to report something she was giving up to her priest. And since she did not, in fact, drink coffee, she could meet the requirement with no inconvenience. When you are ten years old, this seems like a pretty good answer... 

She even met the spirit of Benedict's caution. She did not have an Abbot to tell, but she was telling the appropriate spiritual authority – her priest. What I have never known is the outcome – I will forever wonder what the priest may have said to her in response. 

St Benedict and my 5th grade classmate have something to tell us about what we do for Lent – in some way they are telling us the same thing... We have developed, in our tradition, the belief that to be really effective, a spiritual practice must be heroic, perhaps even draconian. 

What my intelligent 5th grade friend was engaging in was a practice of non-heroic, minimal rather than maximal displacement discipline. OK – her particular plan may have been sub-minimal... it asked absolutely nothing of her... but erring on the side of minimal may be of more spiritual benefit than we think. 

Benedict's counsel guides us in the same direction. “Let each deny him or her-self some food, drink, etc.” I'm not in 5th grade and I do drink coffee. If I were to implement my classmate's plan in accordance with the rule of Benedict, I might be looking to give up one cup of coffee a day, or to not drink coffee one day of the week... to give up some, not all. 

Benedict is clear in purpose: We will add something by way of private prayer and take away something from food or drink, so that we will have something additional to offer God.  

A heroic form of fasting too easily becomes a spiritual destination rather than a spiritual tool. If I give up chocolate for Lent, then chocolate, or at least that empty space where chocolate used to be, becomes the focus of my Lenten practice. What strange kind of offering is that? 

I love Benedict's particularly moderate approach. He has a list: food, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting. Only talking and jesting get qualifiers, but you don't need to know a great deal about St Benedict to know that he never encourages anybody to go entirely without food or sleep. We are, after all, Benedictines, not Cistercians... Benedict doesn't need to qualify those because we know the rule still calls us to meals and to bed each day. Needless talk and idle jesting imply that there is still room for purposeful talk and perhaps even some jesting – as long as it's not idle... 

The danger lies in presumption and vainglory. They are spiritually deadly. Presumption puts me before God. A particularly severe observance of Lent encourages me to presume that I have or can achieve something important... something especially pleasing to God. That is vainglory – empty boasting. The Kingdom of God is a Kingdom of justice and love... Heroic deprivation does not contribute to either. 

We need to step into Lent, not leap into it, making little adjustments in order to free ourselves from worldly attachments. Massive dislocations and heroic deprivations just change the nature of our enslavement. We substitute a positive attachment – I need another cup of coffee... for a negative attachment – I will not drink coffee at all under any circumstances... no matter how much I’d love a cup of coffee... We’re just as attached, just to the absence rather than the presence.  

On Ash Wednesday we are reminded that we are dust, and to dust we will return. This is a perspective that allows little space for presumption or vainglory. There is no point in attachment, in storing up the treasures of this earth. There is no value in a big and grand show of piety. We are still dust. 

But let me share another perspective on dust... from Dr Liz Watz, one of the instructors for the Jungian Christian Dialogue that Br Randy and I I are part of: We are what happens when love meets dust. Liz does not specify God’s love, and I don’t think she has to. All love is ultimately God’s love. All things are God’s creation. All things are just dust held together by God’s love. 

As Jesus will remind us on Maundy Thursday, we are to love one another as God loves us. The less preoccupied I am with indulging and comforting myself, the more able I am to love others and to love God. And just to be clear, loving God is loving others.  

Repentance isn’t about feeling bad. It's about giving our selves over to the uninhibited and seemingly reckless love that is God. The more I allow myself to live into God’s love, the more able I am to love God’s children and all of God’s wonderful creation. That is the work of repentance... the work of Lent... the giving up of my carefully guarded and metered love for the unbound generosity of God’s love. 

Do I get there all at once? Do I even get there in the span of my life? Probably not. And that’s OK. Jesus calls us to follow, not to arrive. 

As I do the work of reflection that Lent calls for, it will surely be distressing. I fall short – a lot... I’d love to say that I am a pure and holy monk with never an impure or evil thought, let alone deed. But I’m sure my brothers will disabuse me of any notion that this is true... and when needed, I'll return the favor...

If it starts to feel hopeless – then I will try to remember to remind myself that I’m in a process. I’m following Jesus as best I can. And I can take great comfort in the lives of those early followers – Thomas who was filled with doubt... Peter who denied any knowledge of Jesus at all –three times... Judas who betrayed Jesus... The whole drowsy bunch who couldn’t stay awake with Jesus in Gethsemane. I fit right in. Thankfully Jesus calls us as we are. 

Repentance, the turning of my life to follow Jesus, is work that I can do at each step of the journey. And if I get a step wrong, that’s OK. It's not a failure; it's an opportunity to repent – to turn and change direction. 

Sunday, February 8, 2026

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, February 8, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Randy Greve
The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, February 8, 2026



We are salt.  We are light.  Our human gift is to enhance flavor, to burn brightly.  Jesus does not say, “you have salt and light”.  He does not say, “you are salt ‘if’”.  He does not say, “you are light ‘if’”.  He lists no condition, no cost, no possible revocation.  This is a proclamation from the one who created us.  Dare we believe the announcement Jesus makes that inherent in every human is the divine zest that awakens taste, the holy fire that warms and reveals?  The implications are staggering.  

What follows this announcement are warnings. You are salt - but don’t lose your saltiness.  You are light - but don’t hide the light you are. The immediate truth to be spoken after proclaiming who we are is the danger of polluting or hiding who we are.

God creates us out of love to reflect divine life.  Christ warns us out of love so that we would preserve and live what we are.  Notice the nature of the relationship.  The Christian life is a dance between delight and danger, gift and warning, grace and responsibility.  Only God can create, and God has.  And in that very creation God risks giving us to use as we decide a glory and honor, we have neither earned nor deserved in ourselves.  In return, we are invited to reflect back the dignity of being human, to make every moment the sacrifice of gratitude and self-offering.

We are salt and light purely by God’s grace. Acting like it is on us.  Christ can give us our essence, make us salt and light.  He cannot force our will.  He cannot make us live who we are.  He can invite, admonish, even warn us about our choice, but he cannot make it for us.  He points to the dangers of choosing pollution and hiding so that we might be alert to what is at stake and take our responsibility as seriously as he does.  

What if we say yes to who we really are?  We actualize salt and light by prophetic words and deeds.  God has made us live in a generous, respectful community with one another as brothers and sisters.  And as a new humanity the barriers and dividing walls have come down and we are one.  Yet enmity and violence persist.  We encounter within us and around us systems and patterns that normalize harm, prejudice, and bigotry.  Salt and light make us aware of the harm we do and the harm done in our names.  Salt and light in us enlighten us to recognize evil and injustice and the temptation to compliantly conform to their ways.  And by being salt and light, we can say, “no, I will not comply”.   Being salt is waking up, looking around, paying attention to reality - not the party line, not propaganda, but what is actually true.  Light is exposing, illuminating, and revealing what is hidden and unnamed.

Now we see the importance of the warnings.  This proclamation of Jesus about who we are sets us in this cosmic wrestling against evil.  This identity will cost us something.  No wonder we rationalize a little sand in our salt, just a small basket over our light.  But our salt is made salty, our lights meant to shine bright, exposed.   Bland darkness is lifeless.  Zesty light is laying down my life.  Those are the choices - I offer myself to Christ as I decide to wake up and tell the truth or I play it safe, exist but not really live.  

The warnings are for us because the pressure of our internal fear and external danger are powerful enough to get us to reject our identity.  Around us what scripture calls principalities and powers, spiritual evil, systemic injustice, violence and prejudice, are the manifestations of the rejection of salt and light.  After a group, an ideology, a movement has polluted its salt and hidden its light, the very notion of what it means to be human gets gnarled into an ugly thing.  Evil fills the vacuum where the salt and light were meant to be.  And this vacuum recoils from the thing it once was and rejected.  The evil powers of this world cannot stand the presence of salt and light.  These powers make friends with blandness and worship darkness and call it holy.  It rules with the fear that lives in it.  It says, “conform, and we’ll let you live.”

Abbot Anthony, who lived from 251-356 said, ‘A time is coming when people will go mad, and when they meet someone who is not mad, they will turn to him and say, “You are out of your mind,” just because he is not like them.’

Jesus calls those who follow him to receive the identity and capacity to resist and subvert the powers of evil so that the life of the kingdom of heaven will be lived in us and known in all the world.  Salt and light are dangerous.  They are noncompliant, unyielding, and unbowed in the face of the flat darkness that would deaden our souls.  So do not comply.  Do not complacently adjust to anything inhuman.  Be intolerable to injustice.  Be unavailable for lies.  Be uninterested in the call to conform to the ways of this world at the expense of your soul.  Some around you may choose to be bland.  You are seasoning.  Be seasoning instead.  Some around you may choose to stay in the darkness.  You are light.  Shine your light.   This is scary.  Fear means we are alive; we want to keep living, but fear does not get to decide what makes us human.  We are salt.  We are light.  Go and season life.  Go and shine fire. Amen.