1st Sunday in Lent 2026

Sermon: 1st Sunday in Lent 2026

Texts: Genesis 2:15-17,3:1-7; Romans 5:12-19, Matthew 4:1-11

Grace, Peace, and Mercy from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

In today’s readings we get a taste of the direction of sacred history, or said in another way, the direction of the story of God and us, the destiny of our relationship. To jump off a close example to many of us to better explain what Paul does in his letter to the Romans, I believe it safe to assume we all have complex family histories. And we are all the recipients of the consequences of decisions not made by ourselves. We exist within a web of past events, we suffer, enjoy or bear the legacies of our ancestors, our grandparents, our wider society and culture, even the decisions of those far removed from our immediate context. As good students of history, we trace the connecting events and link them together to better explain our present moment. For example, to better understand myself as a person, I have to see where my family has been, where do they come from. And often we see in our family lores the misbehaviors and the virtues of our family members, how those faults and virtues have contributed to our wounds or contentment today. It is always a sensitive topic when we peel back the layers of that history. I myself have appreciated the exercise of peeling back these layers, seeing the old pictures, hearing the stories of the past. I could see how the different decisions and dispositions of my ancestors put me on the track that I live today. They determined my circumstances, but do not define me. I can continue to break cycles or continue them. The present moment carries the gift of opening up new chapters for the family lore, hopefully good ones!

So in the same way, Paul weaves together two important events of Israel’s sacred history to make sense of the present moment of the church, which still holds up for us today. He goes all the way back to the Genesis story of Adam and Eve in the garden. He recounts the old story, how Adam and Eve failed to keep God’s commandment, how their actions impacted the generations that would come after them. They were seduced by the empty promises of the enemy, that they would be like God on their own terms, even at the length of trespassing the only thing God told them not to do. Yet this instead brought only death. Distrust and shame entered the scene of human life. In many ways, the Hebrew Bible is the story of the consequences of the actions of our ancestors, and then how to repair and reconcile as we move forward. It was the push and pull of human folly in the face of what is right. Paul points to this dynamic in sacred history, how death came through Adam’s trespass, and therefore how we are then captive to sin and need God to free us from the cycle of sin.

But then Christ arrives into the family picture. And through Jesus, He did not bring forth another trespass, but instead the “free gift”: salvation for all humanity from the bondage to sin and death. We hear it in the Gospel story about Jesus’ temptation in the desert. Adam was tempted, and he fell. Jesus was tempted, yet He triumphed for all time for our sake. On human terms, Jesus is able to withstand the temptations of the enemy. He did not forsake God. He was not seduced by empty promises of power to be a tyrant over the earth in the same way Adam did. Jesus confirmed His loyalty to the liberating Kingdom of God, His life being the sign of its arrival. In the face of what is right in the sight of God, Jesus did the right thing. He did what Adam could not. He repaired the breach that was made by Adam’s action, and thus a new chapter was

opened for all humanity: a grace that abounds and justifies the sinner by no merit of their own. A grace that covers all of humanity and reconciles them forever to God through Christ, pointing us towards the goodness of God rather than our own inclinations towards selfish waywardness.

So in Jesus, Paul notices this world turning event. He peels the layers of the family history, and sees how the human family will be never be the same after Jesus. What had happened so long ago, the consequences suffered, could not hold back the new life of the human family. There was a way to not fall into the pit of despair of the past, new chapters that would not be defined by the determinations of the past, but rather overcome them by being strengthened in Christ’s reality. This was the transformative reality of the Jesus event, this unlocking of new life lived under the cover of grace through Christ. As Paul said, it is the time of the free gift.

So as we begin our Lenten journey this year, let us take into account the reality of Jesus into our histories. Jesus is not only the cornerstone of God’s Kingdom reality that will be fulfilled in the future for all peoples, but it is also the cornerstone of the that Kingdom reality in your own life. In a time dedicated to recommitting ourselves to God, we can then look again at our personal histories, and discover how Jesus has freed us in the past, but also what he will free us from in the future. I remember something my mother always says to me, “you know what God has done in our life”. When we are facing areas of discernment, when we are facing doubts, or perhaps being tempted or dismayed by our weakness in many aspects of our life, we can always look back into our histories, especially the sacred story, and point to Jesus sustaining us by His life, death and resurrection. Our lives, as the text of Scripture

itself, can be a text by which we say “it is written” and affirm God’s action upon our lives. It is written, that Jesus uplifted me from the grasp of hatred in this or that moment in my life. It is written in the text of my memories, how God’s grace allowed me to feel loved again after so many years. It is written, how God softened my angry and hard heart; it is written that God delivered me from despair by fastening to the hope of the cross. It is written, that time when I thought I could not forgive, love, or have mercy on my neighbor, God has allowed me to see things differently now. It is written in the story of my family, that we were bound to such and such toxic behavior, but God has given me the opportunity to change and do what is right.

So our histories, beloved, are important sources of spiritual reflection. We should not fear or shut down the lived experiences that formed us. Sometimes it is looking back that we see the hand of God. What matters is to not live in the past, but to live the present with understanding, with grace, with the dignity of your unique life. The Czech theologian Thomas Halik wrote movingly about how to live with the wounds we afflict upon others, which can also help us reflect on the wounds we carry from our histories, I quote him in full:

“Where I am able to apologize, I ought to apologize, where I can make amends I must make amends, where I ought to be reconciled, I must at least make an attempt. Where I really cannot make up for what I have spoilt or neglected, I must be capable of letting go. In such cases it is important to have the courage to place such things into the flame of God’s mercy, and, trusting in God’s forgiveness, I must forgive myself. If my old faults have passed through the portal of prayer to God, if I have submitted them to God’s mercy, and if in conversation with God they have become experience for me (and prevent

me from repeating them thoughtlessly), then it is an act of faith to release them forever. Then they can and should become for me what is finally past, a past that I must and should no longer concern myself with. And if feelings of guilt should still happen to flare up from that past, from the still too hot ashes of my memories, and no longer lead me to toward healing humility but impede my capacity for joy, freedom, and doing good, then I must deal with them as I would any other temptation: chase it away like an annoying fly, ignore it as if were a dog barking beyond the fence of a stranger’s garden”.

In the same measure in which we are responsible for our personal histories, we are also called to live beyond the constraints of them into the freedom God calls me to live. This does not mean to dismiss our sin, it means to rely completely on God’s mercy. God’s mercy inevitably shapes a life to reflect Jesus, to rejoice in living according to God’s will. Often, because we see ourselves mired in sin, we become paralyzed and do nothing, we begin to wallow in the muck of sin. God calls us out of the mire. We remove our soiled clothing and wash up in the waters of our baptism. We receive new clothing, the we put on Christ. And we walk again, in renewal. This is the beauty of grace, beloved. In this way, we can move past the trespasses of our ancestor Adam, and instead move forward in the liberty of our Lord Jesus. We can shoo away the enemy when he comes to tempt us, we can claim our belonging in God’s Kingdom, not needing any of the empty promises of the enemy. Power, wealth, fame often tempt us away from integrity. But we have been given the integrity of Christ. Through him, we can break the cycle. We can write a new chapter rooted in love and mercy. So let us in this time of Lent, by abstaining from the sins of the past and looking into the future, break cycles of violence, of hatred, of resentment, of suspicion, of joylessness,

of conformity, of despair, and live into the hope, the love, the justice, the compassion, the peace, the belonging, the forgiveness, the grace of God in Jesus Christ. So let us pray in His name: