Dominica I in Quadragesima – I Classis
The First Sunday of Lent, ranked I classis in the traditional Roman rite, sets before us the great drama that frames the entire sacred season: the combat of Christ in the desert and the urgency of our cooperation with grace. The Epistle (2 Cor. 6:1–10) and Gospel (Matt. 4:1–11) together summon the faithful into a holy seriousness—an acceptabile tempus, a time of testing, purification, and victory.
“We Exhort You That You Receive Not the Grace of God in Vain”
St. Paul pleads: “Adjuvantes autem exhortamur ne in vacuum gratiam Dei recipiatis.” Grace has been given; the question is whether it will bear fruit. The Apostle’s words echo through the centuries as the Church begins her Lenten discipline. Lent is not an aesthetic observance nor a seasonal sentiment—it is cooperation with grace in the arena of spiritual combat.
St. John Chrysostom comments that Paul “shows both God’s part and ours; God calls and gives grace, but we must bring diligence and endurance.” Grace is not inert. It demands response. In listing tribulations, fastings, watchings, and labors, the Apostle outlines the pattern of apostolic life—one marked not by comfort but by conformity to the Crucified.
Notice how paradox saturates the passage: “As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet enriching many; as having nothing, yet possessing all things.” St. Augustine explains this mystery: “The joy of the just is not taken from without but rises from within, where God dwells.” The world sees deprivation; heaven sees abundance. The desert strips away illusions so that eternal riches may shine.
Thus Lent reveals the true valuation of things. If we cling to passing consolations, we risk receiving grace in vain. If we embrace the cross, we discover hidden glory.
“Then Jesus Was Led by the Spirit into the Desert”
The Gospel recounts that Our Lord was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. This is no accident of circumstance; it is divine design. St. Gregory the Great observes that Christ willed to be tempted so that “He might overcome our temptations by His.” The Head enters battle before the members. The Captain fights before the soldiers.
Forty days of fasting—forty years of Israel’s wandering—forty days of Moses and Elias on the holy mountain. The desert is the place of testing, revelation, and covenant renewal. But where Israel murmured, Christ obeys. Where Adam fell in a garden of delight, Christ conquers in a wilderness of deprivation.
St. Leo the Great teaches that the Lord’s temptation “was undertaken for our instruction; that we might know how to overcome the tempter.” Each of the three temptations corresponds to perennial human weakness:
- Stones into bread — the temptation of bodily appetite, of reducing life to material satisfaction.
- Cast Thyself down — the temptation of presumption, spiritual pride disguised as trust.
- All the kingdoms of the world — the temptation of power and glory apart from the Cross.
Our Lord answers each with the Word of God. He does not reason with Satan; He rebukes him with Scripture. St. Augustine notes, “The Lord was tempted by the devil, yet in Christ thou wast tempted; for Christ took from thee His flesh, and gave thee His salvation.” In Him, we learn not merely resistance but victory.
The Pattern of Lenten Combat
The Church places these readings together to teach us that Lent is not passive endurance but active striving. St. Paul describes the apostolic life as marked by “fastings” and “watchings.” The Gospel shows Christ fasting before He confronts the tempter. The Fathers consistently interpret fasting as both weapon and shield.
St. Basil writes, “Fasting gives birth to prophets; it strengthens the mighty; it makes lawgivers wise.” Fasting weakens the tyranny of the flesh so that the soul may stand firm. It is not an end in itself but preparation for fidelity.
Yet this combat is never solitary. The Spirit leads; grace precedes; Christ has already triumphed. When the devil departs, angels minister to the Lord. So too, after trial comes consolation—though often unseen.
“Behold, Now Is the Acceptable Time”
The liturgy presses urgency upon us. Lent is not indefinite. The Apostle’s cry—“Ecce nunc tempus acceptabile”—rings like a bell in the desert silence. Now. Not tomorrow. Not when life is less complicated.
St. Gregory reminds us that earthly life itself is a kind of desert pilgrimage. We are travelers between Egypt and the Promised Land. The manna is Christ; the pillar of fire is grace; the adversary seeks to draw us back to slavery.
Therefore, this First Sunday of Lent asks:
- Where have I turned stones into bread—seeking comfort instead of obedience?
- Where have I presumed upon God rather than humbly trusted Him?
- Where have I sought kingdoms without the Cross?
The Church, wise Mother, does not ask these questions to discourage but to liberate. For the One who conquered in the desert now dwells within His faithful. His victory becomes ours through grace not received in vain.
Let us then enter these forty days with sobriety and hope. If we share His fasting, we shall share His triumph. If we walk with Him into the desert, we shall also follow Him to the Resurrection.
“As dying, and behold we live.”
Such is the paradox of Lent. Such is the promise of Christ.