Building Resistance – sermon on Feb. 14, 2016
Luke 4: 1-13 Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and at the end of them he was hungry.
The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread.” Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone.’”
The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And he said to him, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. If you worship me, it will all be yours.”
Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’”
The devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down from here. For it is written: “‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered, “It is said: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.
Sermon: Building Resistance by Rev. Doreen Oughton
This story of temptation – is it familiar to many of you? The Gospel of Matthew tells the story almost the same way as Luke does, and Mark has a very abbreviated version – saying only that Jesus was in the wilderness for 40 days being tempted by Satan. I didn’t notice before that the temptations begin right away, all through the 40 days, and continue right up to this 40th day, with Jesus in a weakened state – famished according to some translations. I wonder if the earlier temptations were things we might be able to identify with a little more – the temptation to stay in bed when there is work to do, the temptation to eat that delicious high-calorie meal when we are trying to eat carefully, the temptation to gossip or criticize, to fudge our taxes, to take something that does not belong to us, or to shift from “harmless” flirtation into something more serious. When I think of temptation, I think of being tempted towards something, being drawn to do something I ought not do.
But in my research this week I came across the suggestion that the real temptation is to move away from something, to move away from our connection with God, to move away from our true identity as beloved child of God. And that is what this story lifts up so beautifully. It begins immediately after Jesus’ baptism, when the Holy Spirit descended upon him and a voice came from heaven declaring, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And off he goes into the wilderness, led by this same Spirit that descended at his baptism. I wonder why the Spirit led him there… Was it specifically for the purpose of facing temptations, or was Satan just eager to interrupt whatever it was Spirit had in mind? I wonder if the fasts we embark on during Lent serve a purpose of leading us to face temptations as well. Isn’t there a spiritual power that comes from learning to stick with a decision despite fluctuating desires and whims? Did Jesus need this kind of practice, like we do?
So Jesus had already fasted the 40 days, and I’m sure his hunger came over him in waves well before this 40th day. He’d probably already resisted Satan’s tempting food offers. So now Satan doesn’t appeal just to his hunger, but to his identity. “If you are the son of God…” he says, use your divine power to command this stone to turn to bread. It’s interesting that Jesus’ response is focused on not having bread, not on whether he is the son of God. Is the tempter trying to plant doubt in the mind of Jesus about whether he truly is the son of God? Or is he making assertions about how the Son of God could and would act. After all God spoke all of creation into being. Surely the Son of God can speak a stone into a loaf of bread.
I wonder if the specific temptations themselves matter at all. Isn’t a temptation by definition, something we ought not do? And isn’t the goal to resist them? Isn’t that where the building up happens? I mean Jesus could turn water into wine, surely he could turn a stone into bread. A show of his divine power wasn’t the point. That was not why the Spirit led him to the wilderness – to demonstrate his power to Satan or to anyone else. He went, I assume, to pray and fast, and that was what he was going to do no matter how Satan tried to distract him from it. He went, I believe, to strengthen his connection with God, to align himself with divine will, knowing that there would be constant challenges in this world, constant distractions away from that will.
There might have been another time that commanding a stone to become a loaf of bread would have been just the right thing to do. Who knows, maybe even in the feeding of the 5000 a few stones were used. It is not that turning stone to bread is a sin, should never be done. It was just not in line with what Jesus had set out to do in that time. It was not going to help him as he prepared for his public ministry.
We all have faced and will face again temptations. If you can recognize them, you can welcome them as an opportunity for growth. They can help you clarify the road you have chosen, the person you want to be. They offer a chance to build yourself up to stay on that path, to continue to become more of who you want to be. It’s like exercise – your muscles grow stronger by challenging them, not by resting them. The temptations themselves are not bad. Even succumbing to them isn’t the worst thing if the experience can be used to resist more strongly in the future. I think of the addicts who have a brief relapse and experience more clearly than they’d imagined possible of the pain of using. So I can see the sense of “creating” temptations by doing a fast of some sorts. Build those muscles. Decide who you want to be, what path you want to walk, then set up some obstacles and see how you do. Go ahead – give up cookies or online shopping. Or set a goal to take up scripture reading or the banjo. Pay attention to what gets in your way – not to beat yourself up, but to identify where you need strength.
And in closing I offer this brief reflection and poem by Jan Richardson:
“When Jesus went into the desert, he went with the baptismal waters of the Jordan still clinging to him, and with the name Beloved ringing in his ears. How else to enter into the forty-day place that lay ahead of him? How else to cross into the wilderness where he would have no food, no community, nothing that was familiar to him—and, to top it off, would have to wrestle with the devil? How else, but to go into that landscape with the knowledge of his own name: Beloved.
In this first week of Lent, as we turn our faces toward whatever this forty-day place holds for us, we would do well to have that name echoing in our own ears—to enter into the terrain of this season with the knowledge that we, too, are the beloved of God. And so I want to offer you a blessing that tells us this. As we cross with Christ into the landscape of Lent and into the mystery that lies ahead of us, may we know at least this about ourselves: that our name, too, is Beloved.”
Beloved Is Where We Begin by Jan Richardson
If you would enter into the wilderness, do not begin without a blessing.
Do not leave without hearing who you are: Beloved, named by the One who has traveled this path before you.
Do not go without letting it echo in your ears, and if you find it is hard to let it into your heart, do not despair. That is what this journey is for.
I cannot promise this blessing will free you from danger, from fear, from hunger
or thirst, from the scorching of sun or the fall of the night.
But I can tell you that on this path there will be help. I can tell you that on this way
there will be rest. I can tell you that you will know the strange graces that come to our aid only on a road such as this, that fly to meet us bearing comfort and strength,
that come alongside us for no other cause than to lean themselves toward our ear
and with their curious insistence whisper our name: Beloved. Beloved. Beloved.
