February 18, 2026
Let me share with you a true story that someone shared with me
a few years ago.
On a college campus in the 1960s, a thousand students packed
into an auditorium to hear recruiters from four branches of the
military.
First up, a guy from the Army gets up and gives his pitch. “Hey,
I’m from the United States Army. Join the Army. You’re going to
get the GI Bill. Your college is going to be free. Uncle Sam is
going to pay for it. It’s going to be awesome. You should join the
Army.”
Then a lady from the Navy gets up. She explains, “You should join
the Navy. When you get in, you’re going to learn job skills. You’ll
have career advancement opportunities. The guy from the Air
Force is going to tell you that you can fly planes. In the Navy, you
can fly even more. It’s going to be awesome. You should join the
Navy.”
Then a guy from the Air Force gets up and says, “Hey, you join
the Air Force, you’ll learn to fly jets. You can work on engines. You
can retire early. You can make a ton of money with the skills you
learn in the Air Force. You should join the Air Force. It’ll be
awesome.”
Then a Marine gets up.
He was scary, scarred up, and not exactly easy on the eyes. As
the story goes, he grabs the lectern, leans forward, and does not
say a word for over sixty seconds. He just makes eye contact with
everyone in the room. Real awkward. Like I’m doing right now.
(Pause)
Then, when he’s done, he says something like this:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I was asked today to come recruit
potential Marines. But from the looks of this audience, I think it is
a waste of my time and yours. I know you expect me to tell you
that if you join the Marines, you’re going to love it. You expect me
to tell you about career advancement opportunities, early
retirement, and job skills you can use in the private sector. But I’m
not going to tell you any of that because it’s probably not going to
be true.
“If you join the Marines, you’re going to hate it. If you join the
Marines, you’ll curse the day you were born. You’ll be mad at
God. You’ll be mad at your mom for giving birth to you. You’ll go to
bed hungry, cold, and thirsty. You will be shot at. Some of you will
be hit by live ammunition. Some of you will be killed in the line of
duty. Because when you join the Marine Corps, you’re the first
ones in and the last ones out.
“But I’m wasting your time and I’m wasting mine. I’ve looked over
this crowd. I’ve made eye contact with every single one of you.
And looking at you, I don’t see a single person who has what it
takes to be in the United States Marine Corps. Forgive me for
wasting your time. Good day.”
Then he closed his little book and walked off.
After a long silence, what the guy who told me this story said
happened was this: there was a handful of people at the tables for
the other branches, but the line to sign up for the Marine Corps
was out the door.
Why?
Because what people want more than an easy button for their life
is a mission worth living for and dying for.
And when Jesus Christ came into the world, He did not lower the
bar.
He did not soften His message.
He did not say, “Follow Me and I will make your life comfortable.”
He said, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself,
take up his cross, and follow Me.”
In other words:
Come die with Me.
Tonight, we begin Lent.
Every year the Church gives us the same three pillars:
Prayer.
Fasting.
Almsgiving.
And most of us have probably already decided what we are giving
up.
Chocolate.
Soda.
Maybe alcohol.
And those are good.
But tonight I want to challenge you.
Not to give up something small.
Not to give up something easy.
I want you to consider giving up the thing you truly do not want to
give up.
For many of us, that is not sugar.
It is our screens.
Phones.
Streaming.
TV shows.
News.
Social media.
Video Games.
Endless scrolling.
What if this Lent we fasted from digital entertainment?
Not from what you need for work.
And not from necessary communication.
But from distraction.
No movies.
No shows.
No scrolling.
No video games.
No news cycle.
No mindless screen time.
Why?
Because Lent is about the desert.
For forty days, Jesus went into the desert. He was hungry. He
was tempted. He was alone with the Heavenly Father.
The desert is quiet.
Our lives are not.
We wake up and check a screen.
We fill every spare moment with a screen.
We fall asleep with a screen.
And then we say prayer is hard.
We say God feels distant.
We say we are distracted.
Maybe it is not that God is silent.
Maybe we are never still.
Imagine what forty days without digital entertainment would do.
You would feel it.
You would reach for your phone, tv remote, and computer mouse,
without thinking.
You would feel bored.
And that boredom would be your desert.
And in that desert, God could speak.
You would have time.
Time for Sacred Scripture.
Time for silence.
Time for the Rosary.
Time to read a real book.
Time to play a board game with your family.
Time to sit at the table and actually talk.
Let’s have a Lent like it was the 1960s.
When evenings were not swallowed by glowing rectangles.
Penance is not about punishing yourself.
It is about making space.
Prayer fills that space.
When we stop looking outward and start looking inward.
When we are less distracted, we become more attentive.
More attentive to God.
More attentive to your spouse.
More attentive to your children.
More attentive to the poor.
In a few moments, you will come forward and hear the prayer:
“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
That is not poetry.
That is reality.
Your life is short.
Your time is limited.
And one day, someone will stand over your grave.
The question is not whether or not you will die.
The question…is what you lived for.
Comfort?
Distraction?
Endless scrolling?
Or Christ?
Tonight, I am not here to offer you a comfortable Lent.
I am not here to offer you a cute little spiritual improvement plan.
I am here to ask you:
Are you brave enough to walk into the desert with Christ?
Do you have what it takes to sit in silence?
Do you have what it takes to give up the thing that actually costs
you something?
Families who want something deeper.
Young people who want something real.
Lent is not for the comfortable.
It is for the serious.
Jesus did not lower the bar.
And neither will we.
So here is the challenge:
For forty days, all of us, let’s give up digital entertainment.
Enter the desert.
Feel the hunger.
Fight the temptation.
Pray.
Open Sacred Scripture.
Talk to your family.
Be present.
And see what God does.
I am doing this with you.
Not because it will be easy.
But because it is worth it.
Because what we want more than comfort…
Is a mission.
And Lent is a mission worth living — and dying — for.