It's not uncommon to hear unfortunate stories of generous people who later turned sour because they were not given due recognition for their goodness. In parish life for instance, I've heard time and again of what has become a familiar drama of a parishioner who becomes active in community affairs and ministries and who donates generously for the needs of the Church. But when the person's name is not mentioned in the acknowledgment out of sheer oversight, the person is heard making a vow not to become part of any parish activities anymore.
It has become a daunting and sensitive task to do the acknowledgment even in religious functions!
I think the most subtle temptation we wrestle each day is the temptation to do what is good and noble for egoistic reasons. We do things, laudable things, to prove our greatness and to invite praise and admiration. We serve, for instance, in order to impress--- even if unwittingly.
Today's gospel reading (Lk. 4:1-13) allows us to reflect on Jesus' temptations in the desert. His way of handling his own temptations is, needless to say, instructive of how his followers are to face their own. Jesus in the gospel is facing that kind of temptation which compels him to do what seems to be good in order to prove his greatness. The catch in the tempter's proposal is the phrase "If you are the Son of God..." All the three tempting proposals are premised upon this. "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread... make all these kingdoms yours and worship me... throw yourself down from the parapet of the temple and show how the angels will guard you..."
The phrase, "If you are the Son of God," attractively appeals to pride and ego. Jesus' temptations then are but the lure of proving his greatness by showing off that he has in his possession what the world expects of him: "Show us that you're the man! Impress us! Wield your power, display your wealth, and flaunt your fame!”
To these, Jesus' response is self-effacement. Exactly the opposite of what the world demands. Always, he points to the Father in heaven as reference of whatever greatness he has. For Jesus, his greatness and even the meaning of his life are not about what he can show off. His business is all about doing the will of the Father in the Father's terms. These are the terms: not by display of power but by the redemptive capacity of suffering, not by allurement of wealth but by the lasting beauty of simplicity, not by egoistic exhibition of fame but by the self-effacing acceptance of humiliation. Only in these terms that Jesus brings glory, not to himself, but to the Father.
As it were, Jesus is pronouncing, "Yes, I am the Son of God... because I give glory to my Father!" Even in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus again pronounces, "Not my will but yours be done." So that on the cross, when the last vestige of this temptation comes again in this similar proposal, "If you are the Messiah, save yourself and us," Jesus consistently holds on to the terms of the Father: He embraces his ultimate act of self-effacement and the greatest possible humiliation of the Messiah--death.
Even in this season of Lent, we can quite easily fall into the pharisaic pit of hypocrisy by doing good, pious, charitable practices such as fasting, almsgiving, and prayer for the wrong reasons—selfish reasons—to show off our "holiness." Jesus again reminds us that our business is not to give glory to our names but to the Father's name. This Lent, let us examine the subtle ways in which our egos might influence our actions, even in the guise of doing good.
But this season, this moment in the Church's journey, is not just about awareness and self-examination. It is a call to transformation. The temptation to serve for our own glory, to act for recognition, is not just something to acknowledge—it is something to overcome. Lent invites us into a deeper relationship with Christ, a relationship that calls us to take up the cross, not for display, but as a means of drawing closer to the heart of God.
As we walk through this season, and as we enter into this Jubilee Year 2025, we are reminded that we are pilgrims of hope. We are not journeying to prove our worth to the world or to seek the applause of others. We are pilgrims walking towards the Father, with the hope that He will transform us into His likeness. This Lent, let us be renewed in our commitment to follow Christ—not for our own glory but for the glory of the Father.
In this season of Lent and in this Jubilee Year, let us examine our motives, purify our hearts, and strive to live not for the praise of others but for the honor of God alone. Let us give generously, serve humbly, and pray earnestly—not to impress, but to be drawn closer to the love of God. May we all be pilgrims of hope, setting out not with pride, but with the humility of Christ, so that through our journey, we may bring glory not to ourselves, but to the Father who calls us to new life in Him.
Give me the grace to live each day for the greater glory of Your Name. Amen.
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