"When I see your heavens, the work of your hands, the moon and stars that you put in place — what are we that you are mindful of us?" 

Someone wrote Psalm 8 about 2,500 years ago. Long before that, Moses instructed his people to offer the first fruits of their harvest to the God who had given them everything. Centuries before the Conquista, or Spanish conquest, the Quechua and Aymara people of Peru celebrated a ceremony of burning coca leaves, agricultural products and other symbols of abundance to the Pachamama, the Mother Earth. 

These practices, present in almost every culture, are sacramental; they strengthen people's faith and deepen their relationship with God, the creator of life. The ceremonies express reciprocity among unequal partners. They symbolize the way the world should be: grateful,  fruitful for all, equitable and living in harmony with one another and with God.  

Today's short Gospel speaks of a darker side of human life. Luke begins by twice assuring us that Jesus was obedient to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Sent by the Spirit, his 40-day fasting retreat led him to a naked confrontation with himself which, of course, included a confrontation with Diabolus, the personification of lies and blasphemy, the sower of division among people and between people and God.

In his first test, Diabolus goaded Jesus to prove that he was Son of God by turning stone into bread, thereby making his own well-being his life's goal. Jesus rebuffed him saying that serving oneself first, prioritizing one's individual desires for security or gratification, can never lead to a fully human life. 

Diabolus then offered Jesus all his own power: the power of the lie, of domination, of generating dissention to consolidate his own supremacy. To gain that type of control, all Jesus had to do was worship that power and its master, Diabolus. Jesus replied that real power, divine power, comes from our God who offers everything freely and never coerces. For Jesus, this is the only God worthy of worship.  

Having failed at recruiting Jesus through me-firstism or the power of despotism, Diabolus suggested that Jesus manipulate God, demanding that God fulfill divine promises in precisely the way he wanted. Like the conviction that a particular prayer will ensure success or an amulet guarantee physical safety, this scenario prodded Jesus to rely on magic instead of mutuality with God.  

Finally, at Jesus' command, Diabolus skulked away to revise his tactics. 

Diabolus failed because Jesus had faith in the Father who had given him the mission to incarnate divine love. This faith is what Paul calls his readers to in today's selection from Romans. First, Paul encourages his people to recognize God's presence among them: "The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart." That echoes the intuition of ancient practices of thanks-offerings that recognized the nearness and care of the God of life. 

Paul then explains that professing that Jesus is Lord and believing with all one's heart is all that is needed for "justification." In this sense, justification implies sharing in Christ's loving relationship with God and neighbor — all as a result of knowing the love of God. Believing in the Resurrection means that people bet their lives on the truth that the circle of divine love is unending and universal. Therefore, those who profess and believe will live like Jesus; their behavior will incarnate the faith they profess.  

All of this could simply remain on the level of interesting theology illustrated by a good story, but that's never the intention of our Liturgy of the Word. The word dwells in us to form our thinking and inspire our living.  

In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis described our moment of history as pervaded by a consumerism that brings desolation and encourages covetous hearts, the pursuit of frivolous pleasures, and blunted consciences. In Fratelli Tutti he said we have "fed ourselves on dreams of splendor and grandeur, and ended up consuming distraction, insularity and solitude."

In a world like this, we can dedicate our 40 days of Lent to follow the lead of the Spirit and reassess everything just as Jesus did in the desert. Be forewarned that if we do that, Diabolus will seize the opportunity to try to waylay or distract us, or, just as likely, to prevent us from noticing that we are distracted, keeping us unaware or unbothered by the lies, violence and cruelty that pervade our world.

Lent is our time to allow divine love to touch us so deeply that we begin to see like Jesus did, and thus act in his name. Time is the only sacrifice God asks of us now, and God will reciprocate in wonderful and unexpected ways.

What would Jesus say about artificial intelligence? Because he lived long before the age of the combustion engine and Apollo 11, we might think that such an idea never crossed his mind. Nevertheless, he talked about it in today's Gospel — though not the robotic type. Jesus seemed to agree with Sirach, who described the difference between husks and grain, or we might say, bluster and truth. 

AI offers uncountable tidbits of knowledge — so many distracting facts that wisdom tosses up her hands as she waits to hear anything with genuine meaning. We live in the world Pope Francis describes as caught up in "the feverish pursuit of frivolous pleasures." For instance, Google tells me that the average supermarket offers over 250 varieties of cereal. The people who frequent these stores probably have no idea about how to thresh and winnow grain, they're just happy it comes in easy-open boxes. How are 21st-century urban dwellers to understand today's selection from the Book of Sirach if they've never even watched the natural process?

Sirach used the process of extracting inedible husks from good grain to exemplify what happens when puffed-up people speak. They expose their superficiality, offering words devoid of  nutritive value. They put good shells on exhibit, failing to realize that what is valuable resides hidden deep inside.  

Paul explains something similar, saying that the fragile and passing dimensions of life are only shells of the incorruptible life that flows from relationships with God and neighbor. Concentration on the insubstantial (fame, wealth, power), all that is inherently temporary and ultimately hollow, creates effective protection against the kind of profound encounter that draws out our humanity in ever-richer ways.  

In today's Gospel, Jesus asks, "Can a blind person guide a blind person?" Today he might ask, "Can artificial intelligence produce anything except artificiality?" In truth, a blind person may be the best one to teach another to navigate the world in ways that do not rely on sight. Those who use AI can become well prepared enough to sift through chaff to get to wheat. But much of our communication, entertainment and politics militate against such discernment; instead they overwhelm us with so much trivial information that we end up like a hunter-gatherer seeking millet or manioca in the Aldi's cereal aisle.  

The story of the speck and the beam gives us another example of Jesus' understanding of AI. In ancient Israel, wood was so expensive that people constructed their homes with stones and adobe-like bricks. Most of the wooden beams they could see were in the Temple and they were typically between 15 and 42 feet long, weighing an average of about 300 pounds. That's a lot to hold in front of you while trying to extract some dust from someone's eye!  

Jesus had a sense of humor and loved to make people laugh — and slowly realize they were laughing at themselves.

Jesus made ludicrous comparisons to help people comprehend the ridiculousness of the situations around them. He wanted them to judge well the difference between chaff and wheat, between trees solidly planted near living streams and the capricious leaves that make a spectacular show on their way to becoming mulch. 

It becomes pretty obvious that today's Liturgy of the Word prods us to seek wisdom that sidesteps a myriad of distractions. Media, advertising and attention-seeking public figures are playing "Made you look!" with us, often, to draw our attention away from how they are threatening truth, human thriving and pulling off other actions and attitudes that counter the reign of God. 

There's a poster that features Albert Einstein and the quote, "Two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe." Today's Gospel ends with Jesus' suggestions about where to seek good fruit. Jesus sums it all up, saying, "from the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks."  

Today's question seems to be, what will lead us to wisdom of heart? First, we need enough  humility and self-knowledge to recognize that we are all blind in some ways and that we need one another's discerning guidance. Second, we need to cultivate our awareness that the fault we dislike and criticize in another is very often a reflection of our own failings. Most of all, we need to look to the Master again and again, remembering that accurate understanding of Christ's teaching will make us uncomfortable and goad us to grow.  

As long as we maintain awareness of the homegrown logs that block our sight, we can offer Gospel-based criticism of what is happening around us. Not only that, but we will be compelled to expose the lies and distractions that come from rotten trees and stores of evil.