First Sunset: The Temptation

We pray with Jesus in psalm 61: Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer! From the ends of the earth I call; my heart grows faint. And St Augustine comments: “What is the reason for this cry? A heart that grows faint. Who cries like this shows that is everywhere not with great glory but with serious temptations.” But if Jesus would have fallen into temptation, what would be of me? A poor unredeemed sinner. The greatness of the temptations is that Jesus could say yes to them. Just like the sunset seeks the night, temptation seeks my darkness. We should see Jesus very human, like us, in all of these sunsets. And in Him, we can truly say not to temptation. However, we are alone and very much us as in temptation as in death. The joy is that with my no to temptation, I experience my humanity with that of Jesus and I become much like him that I want to be more of him.

Jesus always retreats himself to pray as the night approaches. This is to say that after the sunset and without light, the only remedy to go through the bitter darkness is only seeking God. The orange color of the sky announces the closeness of darkness. We prepare a defense with bulbs, candles and lamps. They all pretend to supplant the great star. But that orange color in the sky makes me sight with nostalgia of heaven, nostalgia of God. We don’t want to close our eyes before such phenomenon. Contemplation envelopes us and transports us to the night not only armed with lamps, but empty of any trivial security.  

What makes me fear the loss of the day? The certainty of not have finished the begun labor, not have loved the offering, have despised the offended. O great sunset that rubs my guilt on my face and does not allow me to touch the night without repentance. The sun falls, yes! So I do as well tired and afflicted. The day is gone and doesn’t come back. I continue forth with the following. I say then not to my temptation because it takes me to seek my God than wants me like him.