February 29, 2004
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First Sunday in Lent
Romans 10: 8b-13
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Psalm 91
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Luke 4:1-13
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“Temptation”
Who is Jesus? That’s a question we’ve been asking for about two thousand years, ever since Jesus himself asked it of Peter.
Last Sunday I presented the adult education class in-between services and we saw brief film clips of five movies about Jesus (clips of movies we’ll be viewing in their entirety during our Lenten film series) and I summed up these highly divergent views by asking that question: Who is Jesus? Over the ages, many have grappled with that question, as did filmmakers of the 20th century. No doubt you have heard much discussion about the first major attempt of the 21st century to capture Christ in film–Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.”
So among filmmakers as well as the rest of us, we continue to want to know – Who is Jesus?
Luke, in presenting his Gospel account of the life and passion of Christ, attempts to answer that question early on. Luke’s narrative suggests something of what kind of a Messiah Jesus will be. This story comes toward the earlier part of Luke’s gospel account, following a narrative on Jesus’ genealogy, that traces him as the son of Joseph (Luke is quick to add “as was supposed”), all the way back to Adam, by way of the House of David, but with the ultimate lineage given as “son of God,” which is a primary theme of Luke’s.
It is in the story of the temptation that some have said we see the humanity of Jesus personified, as he is tempted by the devil. That is true, but the story also suggests the implications of his upcoming ministry and passion, of his role as the divine Son of God.
The devil offers three temptations. In each case, Jesus resists the lure and stays focused on his relationship with God. And in each case, the devil ups the ante and offers an even more enticing suggestion.
First, the devil suggests that Jesus turn the stone to bread, for Jesus has fasted for 40 days and is hungry. Though there surely is nothing wrong with satisfying hunger or other physical needs, Jesus tells us that the need for bread is secondary to the need to understand the true source of that bread, or the real substance and supply of life.
Then, Jesus is offered authority over all the kingdoms of the world; political power that even our current presidential candidates have never heard of. But Jesus knows that political power comes at the cost of conceding to the demands of others, of letting others gain partial power over you, and Jesus recites the Jewish shema, that only God should be served.
Finally, seemingly more desperate to win over Jesus for now the devil himself quotes Jewish scripture, the devil suggests that Jesus force God into protecting his Son. And Jesus responds, of course, that God should not be tested.
What does it mean to be God’s son? Being God’s son does not mean seeking power for oneself. It means acknowledging the oneness and otherness of God. It means, even while living in the physical, real world, of being attuned to a higher reality and authority—being in the world but not of it. Ultimately, Jesus would fulfill his divine Sonship not by escaping suffering or death but by accepting it and defeating it.
This story finds its way in our lectionary on this first Sunday of Lent for several reasons. Lent is a time of 40 days (actually 46, as we don’t count the Sundays of Lent) from Ash Wednesday where we recalled our mortality as creatures of the flesh, to the glory of Easter, where we celebrate the victory of life over death in the resurrection of Jesus the Christ.
So on this first Sunday of Lent we find that our own Lenten journey of 40 days is reflected in Jesus’ journey in the wilderness. And as we begin our own Lenten practice, we are reminded of the importance of relying upon God and God’s goodness, a theme which this story and the other Biblical lessons today recall.
So this text from Luke asks the question, Who is Jesus? What is his relationship to God? What kind of a messiah will he be? The text also suggests another set of questions: Who are WE? What is OUR relationship to God? How will WE live out our call as children of God? So while focusing on the temptations given Jesus, it also suggests how we might answer temptation in our own lives.
When we think of temptation we often think of things we would very much like to do, but shouldn’t because it is either fattening, immoral or illegal. Now, when I was growing up, as you may recall I grew up outside the church, my impression of most Christians is that they were somehow removed from much of the stuff of life—and much of the good stuff! Christians didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t curse, and in short didn’t seem to have much fun in life. (Now, this was in Texas among the Southern Baptists, but there are Wisconsin counterparts!)
What the devil was offering to Jesus was a lot worse than some bad personal habits. The devil was ready to give the whole world over to Jesus, for a price.
And so in some ways this story of the temptation, seems removed from our own contemporary experience. After all, we are rarely tempted with power over the principalities of the world. No, these kind of temptations are not our temptations. Ours are much more nuanced, more subtle. Our greatest temptations, perhaps, are the comforts we work so hard for.
Barbara Brown Taylor is a seminary professor and contributor to the “Christian Century” periodical. In an essay several years ago (“The Christian Century,” Feb. 18, 1998) she suggests that Lent is a good time to let go of some of our creature comforts, so that we might know God more deeply. She said that the early enthusiasms of the Christian community gave way to a more comfortable faith. Once Jesus did not return as quickly as was originally thought, she said, his followers hung a cross on the wall and settled into their routines and became as devoted to their comforts as their faith.
One response to this from the early church was to create a season of introspection and renewal, that Christians might discover what it was like to lean on God more heavily. And so the church announced a season of Lent, from the old English word Lenten which means “spring.” This was to be a time, Taylor says, to “cleanse the system and open the eyes to what remains when all comfort is gone. Forty days to remember what it is like to live by the grace of God alone and not by what we can supply for ourselves.”
And so here we are, at that season of introspection and renewal. But what do we give up to bring ourselves closer to God? Taylor suggests giving up an addiction. She says that 99 percent of us are addicted to something, perhaps eating, shopping, blaming or taking care of other people. An addiction can be a way of thinking or living that doesn’t serve one well. “The simplest definition of an addiction is anything we use to fill the empty place inside of us that belongs to God alone.
About that empty place, she says:
“That hollowness we sometimes feel is not a sign of something gone wrong. It is the holy of holies inside of us, the uncluttered throne room of the Lord our God. Nothing on earth can fill it, but that does not stop us from trying. Whenever we start feeling too empty inside, we stick our pacifiers into our mouths and suck for all we are worth. They do not nourish us, but at least they plug the hole.”
She suggests that there is a hollow core in us, where we might best connect to God, and yet we fill it with all sorts of trivialities.
The mid-20th century theologian Paul Tillich describes what I think is the same thing. Iin one of his popular sermons he says, “We know we are estranged from something to which we really belong, and with which we should be united.”
Jesus understood this something with which he was united and something with which all people yearn to be united. Of course, he knew God in a way we can’t in the fullness that he experienced. But he provides a model of how we might approach a deeper relationship with God. Jesus certainly knew that hollow place and knew it couldn’t be filled by earthly powers.
And in giving up the temptations and staying rooted in God, he modeled for us a way to grace, even amid the difficulties and the temptations of life.
Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that the Lenten journey is about giving up the things that prop us up, the anesthesia we provide ourselves, whatever that is…”the habits, substances or surroundings we use to comfort ourselves, to block out pain and fear.”
She says: “Nothing is too small to give up. Even a chocolate bar will do. For 40 days, simply pay attention to how often your mind travels in that direction. Ask yourself why it happens when it happens. What is going on when you start craving a Mars bar? Are you hungry? Well, what is wrong with being hungry? Are you lonely? What is so bad about being alone?
“Try sitting with the feeling instead of fixing it and see what you find out. Chances are you will hear a voice in your head that keeps warning you what will happen if you give up your pacifier. ‘You’ll starve. You’ll go nuts. You won’t be you anymore.’ If that does not work, the voice will move to level two. ‘That’s not a pacifier. That’s a power tool. Can’t you tell the difference?’ If you do not fall for that one, there is always level three: ‘If God really loves you, you can do whatever you want. Why waste your time on this dumb exercise?’”
She says that if you don’t know whom that voice belongs to, read Luke’s story again. Then tell the devil to get lost. Don’t settle for less than what God intends for you to be. Don’t be tempted to be less than what you really are.
For we are really created in the image and likeness of God, we are dust given the breath of life by God, we are children of God, gathered into a community around the particular story of the life, ministry, crucifixion and resurrection of one Jesus of Nazareth.
This story of the temptation pulls us back to the basics of the Christian life and reminds us of who we really depend upon. And in a similar way does Paul in his Letter to the Romans remind us of these basics. Paul reminds us of the faithfulness of God: “For everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved.” This is the basic Pauline message of grace, that our relationship to God is rooted in the divine benevolence and not in our self-sufficiency.
Even amid the difficulties of our lives, we walk with God. Elsewhere in his letters, in the second letter to the Corinthians, Paul says: “We are treated as … sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” (2 Corinthians: 8-10) Having nothing, yet possessing everything. Of having stones for bread, yet the true nourishment.
This is to live in an awareness of God indwelling all of life, all of our lives. “You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge, and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.” (Psalm 91)
Though the reality is that God is ever present in our lives, it is an equal reality that we so often turn a deaf ear and blind eye to God’s glory in the world. This is the beginning of a season to lean more heavily on those everlasting arms, to experience your dependence upon your divine source. To give up whatever might be blocking your relationship with God. To discover who is Jesus and who you are. And whose you are.
Amen.
For reflection and continued study:
“Settling for Less” by Barbara Brown Taylor in “The Christian Century” Feb. 18, 1998. Online at: www.religion-online.org/cgi-bin/relsearchd.dll/showarticle?item_id=643
“You Are Accepted” by Paul Tillich in The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1948), p. 155.