We begin our journey through Lent with a story of temptation in the desert. Jesus has just come from the River Jordan. Where he as been baptized and declared the Son of God by a voice from heaven. But rather than start off on his ministerial career Jesus retires to the desert for 40 days.
Specifically, Jesus is led by the Spirit in the wilderness for 40 days. If you were one of the first readers of Luke’s gospel, the references would have been unmistakable. The number 40, the wilderness, led by the Spirit… Jesus is identified with the history of the nation of Israel itself. The same nation of Israel that wandered in the wilderness, facing temptation yet let by the Spirit to the Promised Land. Also, like the nation of Israel wandering in the wilderness, Jesus is tempted, in ways that echo the trials of Israel during the Exodus.
After he has spent 40 days fasting and praying in the desert, Satan appears and tempts a very hungry Jesus. “Make these stones into bread.” We remember the Israelites and their fear of starving in the desert, and their longing to return to the fleshpots of Egypt. But Jesus refuses to succumb to the devil’s seductions. He will not resort to extraordinary means, nor will he give in to despair as the Israelites did. He will wait upon the Lord, and wait for God’s grace to provide his needs. He answers the Devil with a verse from the Scripture that details the miracle of the manna from heaven that saved Israel from starvation: ‘We don’t live by bread alone.’
Then the Devil tempts Jesus with dominion over the kingdoms of the earth. Luke makes a subtle point here that is easy to overlook. Notice how worldly power is in the Devil’s gift, and is his to mete out. Luke asserts that God’s power and authority is fundamentally different that the powers control the world.
But the hopes and expectations of many in first century Palestine were tied to a messiah with exactly the kind of earthly power the Devil offers. They wanted a messiah who would banish the Roman occupiers, and all who trod upon the Promised Land and its people, claiming Israel’s milk and honey for themselves, subjugating Israel’s people, and suppressing Israel’s religion.
And again Jesus’s response to Satan seems to encompass Israel’s past. No resorting to Golden Calves or Canaanite hill altars as in the past. Jesus will remain true to the One God who has established the covenant with Israel. Again, quoting from Scripture, Jesus insists that he will not pay homage to Satan, because such homage belongs only to God.
The Devil then takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the Temple at Jerusalem. And he urges Jesus, with quotations from the Psalms -- Satan has picked up a trick or two from Jesus in the coarse of their discussions. He now uses the Hebrew Scripture to formulate his temptations. The Devil urges Jesus to provoke God’s recognition of him as the messiah, the son of God, by making God preserve the only begotten son from dashing even his foot upon the stone.
In so much as Jesus is identified with the history and heritage of Israel, during his 40 days of fasting and prayer, he is able to, in some respects, redeem some of those past actions, and mark a new path forward. Jesus in the desert offers us an example of how we might also reestablish a renewed, redeemed, reconciled relationship with God.
When Jesus refuses to turn stones into bread, he is refusing to take advantage of his power over the natural world. He is refusing to exploit the natural environment to reap its rewards. Though he has the ‘technology’ to do so, he does not turn stones into bread. That begs the question, “What would Jesus frack?” I’m not sure he would frack at all. When given the chance, and in possession of the power to do so, Jesus doesn’t manipulate nature to meet his appetites.
Notice those appetites, too. Those who struggle with addictions know the temptation of succumbing to appetites. And when the Devil is enticing you to do so, that’s a pretty good sign of the bad to come out of it. On other occasions, maybe, we can have that dessert; for other people, perhaps, the cocktails wouldn’t be a problem. But not when appetites are out of control, and when they lead to further dependence and self-destruction.
When Jesus refuses to do homage to the Devil and gain control over the kingdoms of the world, he gives us an example of integrity. He refuses to betray his core values, no matter the expediency. It is a Faustian moment. But most of us know similar, though smaller, moments in our daily lives. When we nervously laugh along at the racist, homophobic or misogynistic joke instead speaking up against such rhetoric. When we vote with our pocketbooks rather than with our sense of what is just and right so to do.
And when Jesus refuses to gain power and control over nations and peoples, we see an example of respect for the autonomy and authority and agency of others. We see an acknowledgment that there should be limits to our power over others. Whether we are a Superpower, or a ‘helicopter parent’, or a controlling, even violent, spouse, or a gun-owner. There is power that it is wrong to make use of, there are rights that belong to others that place limits and bounds on our own rights. And if the Son of God himself can respect those limits, then so should we.
When Jesus refuses to test God from the Temple tower, he shows us what are the right and the wrong expectations and demands to put on God. Jesus understands his own responsibilities. And God’s. It is not God’s job to preserve life and limb when our own behavior puts them at risk. God’s gift is the gift of life and of creation. And because they are gifts, freely given, they become our responsibility -- to steward and develop, to protect and to respect and to correct.
One of our confirmands is facing down what is apparently a recent rash of atheism among her ninth-grade classmates. You’re never smarter than you think you are in the ninth-grade, are you? But the questions she brought to our confirmation class from her classmates are very like questions I often hear -- and I’ll bet you do too.
How could there be a God when there are also things like the Holocaust and September 11th and Superstorm Sandy. How could God allow these things to happen? Good question, but the wrong one, I think. The question is not how could God allow these things to happen, but how could we? These things all occurred on our watch.
Could we have learned something about restraint of power from Jesus on the pinnacle of the Temple that might have tempered the interaction of nations and helped us foster more peace on the earth, rather than retaliation and oppression and resentment? Could we heed the example of Jesus in the desert and establish a more right relation to our environment stop the kind of actions our scientists tell us are causing Sandys and other storms to become Superstorms?
During this Lent, I invite you to be mindful of the history you inhabit, and to look at the ways you interact with the environment, and with power, and with God. Examine your appetites. Look at how much control you seek over others, and how much respect you give to others? Look into your hearts and ask yourselves, are you asking God to do for you what you should do for yourself?
The message of Lent is that we are prone to sins such as these, but we are also capable of repentance, restoration and recovery and reconciliation. We are all of us capable of some amount of amendment of life. And now is the time to seek it.
But if you don’t achieve such amendment of life; if you fail in your first or second or third attempts, that’s OK. Because we’ll have Lent again next year too.
All we can do is our best, with God’s help, and our intentions are just as important as the changes that might one day be wrought out of those intentions.
Hear and heed the Gospel of Christ Jesus. Listen, and live and learn. For the only sin, really, when you come down to it, is to live and not learn.
Take this great gift of life and creation and learn from it, amend it where it is in need of amendment, reform it where it is in need of reformation. And live it is such a way as to honor your God. In so doing, you will do yourselves and your souls great honor as well. + Amen.
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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