Rev. James L. McDonald February 25, 2007 Deuteronomy 26: 1-11 Luke 4: 1-11 Welcome to the wilderness, also known as the season of Lent. Officially Lent began last Wednesday – Ash Wednesday – with the imposition of ash on the forehead and the Scriptural reminder of our mortality: “Remember, Mortal One, that from dust you came and to dust you shall return…” Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. Such a theme seems dreary and somber, and I suspect that, left to its own devices, the human spirit would much rather observe Mardi gras or Fat Tuesday (the day before Lent begins) than Ash Wednesday. The world, after all, seems dreary enough. So, why emphasize it? What we really need is a joyous celebration. Most of us would prefer to just skip Lent and go right to Easter. So why DOES the church keep observing Lent? Why, year after year, do we return to the wilderness, to the themes of sin and evil and temptation that remind us of our inadequacy and make us feel guilty? The answer, I think, is that we need Lent to help us understand and appreciate Easter. Without the work of Lent, the celebration of Easter becomes superficial and short-lived. The disciplines of Lent not only lead us to Easter, but deepen our joy when Easter finally arrives. Like Advent before Christmas, Lent is a season of preparation. It’s a time of self-examination and social awareness. Lent summons us to look at the world and ourselves with all the honesty we can muster and then to repent, to turn around and head back toward God. It asks us to change whatever stands in the way of our commitment and ability to love and serve others. Tilden Edwards once commented that “we are surrounded by much American spirituality that strikes us as egotistical, hyped and evasive of personal and social responsibility.” In Lent we have the opportunity to become liberated from that kind of spirituality and add depth to our understanding and enjoyment of life. As a season with themes and disciplines, Lent remains essentially unchanged. But, as human beings we are constantly changing, and thus we never enter Lent nor emerge from it in exactly the same place. So, once again, welcome to the wilderness of Lent, and to the opportunity to learn afresh its lessons. Wilderness is the land of in-between, a place of ambiguity, of God and no God. The Biblical text highlights this when it says that Jesus entered the wilderness “being led by the Spirit” and “tempted by the Devil.” Wilderness is the place of being neither here nor there. It’s the place we find ourselves between the decision to do something and seeing it actually happen. It’s the place between intention and result: o Between the decision to go to college and the granting of a degree Wilderness is the place Jesus found himself after his baptism, but before beginning his public ministry. He knew where he was headed but the question was: How would he get there? The wilderness, being what it is, is a stomping ground for the Devil. Wilderness breeds those all-too-human emotions of fear and frustration and insecurity. It undermines our self-confidence, because we are neither what we once were, nor yet what we desire to become. Wilderness is the place we feel most keenly our anxiety and helplessness because we have to let go of those things in ourselves that we cling to for comfort and security in order to free ourselves from their domination of our lives. It’s the place where misgivings and second thoughts are easily nurtured. “Maybe I should take this short cut.” “Maybe I should turn back to the way things were before.” “Maybe this whole idea is too hard or too harebrained to pursue.” When Jesus enters the wilderness, it is his most vulnerable moment. He is alone and hungry. Perhaps he’s even overwhelmed by the responsibilities laid upon him and the path that lies ahead. That’s the stomping ground for the Devil. I think most of us would acknowledge that solitude is good for the soul. Ultimately, after all, we are alone, and when we are alone, we come to know ourselves in our inmost hearts. But choosing to spend time with oneself – alone with oneself – is nonetheless a courageous and highly unusual act. Often, we are afraid of being alone. It’s as if we’re afraid that once alone, we might place a call on ourselves and discover that nobody’s home. Or worse yet, the person we do find at home is not very likeable or loveable. Then what? That’s when the Devil comes into play, because the Devil seems always to attack us at the level of our identity, where in many respects we are the weakest. Now maybe some of you are not use to speaking of the Devil as a person. But I like what William Sloane Coffin said about the Devil: “We call the Devil a person because evil is experienced as an intensely personal power. We also call the Devil a person because while evil arises within us – not outside us – it is experienced as something larger and more powerful than we are. Hence it makes sense to ascribe to it a separate existence.” And don’t you know? The Devil always attacks us at the place where we are weakest. The Devil attacks our identity, and our feelings of powerlessness in the midst of a powerful world. The Devil becomes most real when we’re alone and hungry, when we’re in the wilderness, when our identity is uncertain, when we’re under pressure to make something happen, especially something good. So, each time the Devil addresses Jesus, it’s with the same opener: “If you are the Son of God, . . .” It was true, wasn’t it? So, the Devil says, “If you are the person you say you are, then prove it.” Identity and power. “Say, I thought this was supposed to be a church.” “So, you say you’re a Christian, right?” The reality is, most of our lives are spent trying to overcome our feelings of powerlessness, to strengthen our hand, to arm ourselves and our nation, to destroy that which we fear will rule or dominate us. We seek comfort and security, and we’re willing to pay most any price to achieve them. In myriad ways, we steel ourselves against the harsh realities of life, especially the realities of suffering, poverty and deprivation. We build walls that exclude. We erect defenses against enemies unknown. In this way we are very far from understanding and celebrating the victory of Easter. Jesus’ own temptation was to take the crown and avoid the cross. Taken together, his temptations signify the offer to settle for less, to trade the prospect of real change for the mere appearance of change, to exchange short-term success for eternal salvation. The good news of the Gospel is that Jesus chose to refuse the immediate security and comfort offered by the Devil in order that he might become life-giving, death-defying bread for a world of hungry people. In the wilderness Jesus was fearful, but he resisted the temptations by loving God more than power, status, the status quo or material goods. Jesus resisted his temptations in order to show us how to resist ours, and ultimately how to become the people God created us to be by serving God and loving one another. Just so, Lent is a time to confront our fears, our weaknesses, our hungers, our loneliness and alienation. Lent invites us into the wilderness to discover anew the mind of Christ Jesus, “who though he was in the form of God, counted equality with God not a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2: 5-8) Perhaps you’ve heard the story of Nan-in, a Japanese Zen Master, who was visited by a university professor who wanted to learn about his religion. After a while, Nan-in graciously brought tea to his guest. He poured until his visitor’s cup was full – and then kept on pouring. Finally, the professor couldn’t restrain himself. “It’s full!” he shouted. “Stop pouring!” “Like this cup,” said Nan-in, “you are full of your opinions. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty the cup?” How can we celebrate Easter unless we first observe Lent? Welcome to the wilderness! Amen. |
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