We moved the furniture around in our living room. Not everything, we just moved three key pieces. It took a bit of time because every time we moved something, we could see the dust that had accumulated beneath. So, there was some sweeping and mopping to do, too. Then, by accident, I backed into a small lamp and knocked it over. The bulb smashed into a billion gaseous pieces. So, what was going to be a quick and easy operation turned into half a day. It was a wonderful exercise in imagination and in listening to the other. When we were finished, we stared at the room in wonder. Moving three pieces of furniture changed the entire feel of the space and gave us a new focal point. Not only does the room feel bigger, the new orientation has made all the difference.
It’s still Lent. [Stay with me here.] It’s been a long, late Lent – a Lent that has the nerve to encroach on spring buds and flowers. My heart is aching for Holy Easter and it’s still two weeks away. It’s easy around the 5th Sunday to feel disheartened – to wonder what’s happened to this Holy Lent. Maybe, we’ve “given something up” and we haven’t exactly been successful. Maybe, we promised God some “prime time” in our day for prayer and that hasn’t exactly panned out. Maybe, we feel “done” with Lent and ready to abandon everything we thought it could be.
Perhaps, it is our expectations. What if we don’t need to throw out things that distract us from the God search? What if those things are just part of our inner room and need to be rearranged? What if Lent is an opportunity to move the furniture around so that God is the focal point? I like this idea. It means that all my struggles to extricate and banish “my stuff” can give way to something else. It’s kind of Jungian – embracing the shadow. I just know that the same stuff derails me over and over again. Instead of asking God to take it away or, worse, trying to fix it myself, maybe it’s time to make friends with all of it. Then, I don’t have to drag something out and leave it at the curb. I can just work on moving the furniture around – putting things in a healthier, holier perspective. Rearranging my inner room is much more satisfying – much more doable – because it depends on inspiration. The Spirit guides this process. We may think one thing is in the wrong place. And then, after moving it, we decide that something else needs to move. The only goal is God. If God is the focal point in our inner room, then Lent will have done its work in our lives.
[This sermon was given this morning at St. John’s Episcopal Church, Northampton, MA. Lent 1, Year A]
The Temptation in the wilderness is always the Gospel reading on the first Sunday of Lent. I brought several questions with me as I opened the lectionary to prepare this sermon. What can Jesus’ experience of temptation teach us about being human? Does temptation have a redemptive purpose in our spiritual journey? What do we do when we find ourselves on the verge of spiritual failure?
Temptation is serious business, but in our culture we use temptation to sell things in the media. Commercials show women on a diet plastered to the window of a bakery. Men and women stare at nameless bodies and grapple with sexual desire. One of the worst commercials shows a grown man hiding behind the kitchen counter on Thanksgiving because he can’t wait to taste the stuffing! All of these media vignettes do a disservice to temptation – to the pain it brings and to the power it has over us in our most vulnerable moments.
I think people who suffer from the disease of addiction could tell us a deeper truth about temptation. When my Dad came out of a detox program after 40 years of drinking scotch, I sent him this passage from The Letter to the Hebrews.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.”
I thought it would help him to remember that Jesus gets it – Jesus gets how hard it is to be human. The truth is, it helped me, too. My Dad has been sober 14 years, 2 months and 3 days. But he lives every day with the monster under the bed. It is his complete dependence on God’s grace that keeps him strong. Back to our gospel…
I’m going to give you a biblical “spoiler alert.” This vivid narrative “telescopes” into one story many of the temptations Jesus experienced throughout his life.[1] The lure of power, the seduction of fame and the immediate satisfaction of every bodily desire – these aren’t just Jesus’ “issues.” These things are the stuff of our struggles. And, lest we take this story literally, as the Hollywood filmmakers do, New Testament scholar, William Barclay, insists that this testing was an interior experience. Isn’t that where our real battles happen – in the mind, in the soul? Professor Barclay believes we must approach this Gospel on bended knee for in the telling of this experience to his disciples, Jesus is letting is into his inner life, offering us his sufferings and struggles so that we might be strengthened in our own.[2]
So, what is it with God and temptation? It was the Spirit who led Jesus into the wilderness. No sooner had he emerged from the waters of the Jordan than he found himself engaged in a spiritual battle for 40 days and nights. [Yes, that number is powerfully symbolic here. Jesus is the new Israel. Where the Chosen rebelled in the desert, Jesus gives himself to the Father in trust.] But I still have this question about the purpose of trials and tests. It can’t be that God sends us trials for no good reason – like some divine version of the “Hunger Games.” No. William Barclay explains the purpose of our struggles. “Just as metal has to be tested far beyond any stress and strain that it will ever be called upon to bear, before it can be put to any useful purpose, so people have to be tested before God can use them for his purposes.”[3]
The real temptation for Jesus and for us is to give up on the promises of God. The real temptation is give up on ourselves – to forget that we are precious to God, loved beyond measure.
Life is so hard sometimes. The pain that comes to us just because we are human can push us over some threshold into darkness. In that vulnerable place the voices we hear are not always our own. Now, I’m not big on the devil. We personify evil to make it more understandable. The truth is we don’t understand the presence of evil in the world, but we feel it – we know that something or someone rejoices when we give up on God. So, what are we supposed to do when we feel weak, vulnerable and overwhelmed by fear or hopelessness?
The answer is right here in the gospel. It is so obvious that we can miss it. Jesus won the battle within him by using the power of the Word of God. Jesus counters every threat with a verse from Holy Scripture.
This antidote to spiritual illness has been used for centuries. The early monastic teachers – Evagrius and John Cassian – taught their followers to banish temptation with God’s Word. Evagrius of Pontus was the first to talk about the “8 thoughts” that torment the soul. John Cassian wrote about how these vices could be vanquished by practicing the opposite virtue. But prayer was the essential weapon of choice for both teachers. Cassian loved the verse from Psalm 69: “God, come to my assistance. Lord, make haste to help me.”
Here we have the pattern for victory. Pray. Pray the most powerful words you know. And tell the devil to go to Hell! It worked for Jesus and it will work for us. And, if we “fail” the test, what then? That’s when the reading from Genesis becomes a gift. God didn’t give up on “Adam” and “Eve.” Far from it! Perhaps, their failure was more of a gift to us for in it, God began the plan for our salvation in Christ. God came to us in flesh and blood so that we could know with certainty that God’s love is deeper, stronger and more powerful than any failure we can come up with. We are loved that much! St. Paul really got it.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.”
[1] Barbara E. Reid, O.P., New Collegevillle Bible Commentary: New Testament “Matthew,” (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2008.) 17.
[2] William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew Volume 1 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1975 & 2001.) 76.
Much of the Christian world will be eating pancakes tonight for supper. The tradition of a pre-Lenten feast goes way back. Everyone knows about “Mardi Gras,” but a church pancake supper is more reflective of what Lent is all about. Rather than a riotous display of excess, drunkenness and sensual pleasure, a pancake supper satisfies the real hungers of the human spirit. We want to be fed and to feed one another. We want community. We want joy in the Lord.
For me pancakes are about memory. One of the earliest black and white photos I have of my family depicts five of us (the baby wasn’t born yet) all dressed up in Sunday clothes at a Fire House Pancake Breakfast. It made the local paper. I remember the pancakes were as big as manhole covers! Even at four I wanted lots of everything!
Five years later I was making pancakes for the family on the weekends. I could eat a dozen of those “silver dollar” pancakes easily. I always made a double batch of the Bisquick recipe so that there would be more than enough. I remember the baby in her high chair eating the animal pancakes I made for her – elephants, giraffes, etc. Making her smile and giggle was even better than eating the massive stack I kept warm for myself. Making pancakes was really a way to love my family. It was about time together and the richness of real butter and maple syrup. It was, I think, a taste of the Kingdom
So as we prepare for another Lent in our lives, there is no better sign of what’s to come than to share a feast with loved ones. It isn’t about overdoing, overeating or drinking beyond wisdom. It’s not about getting in that last orgy before great feats of saintly asceticism. It’s a symbolic meal of God’s abundant love and the sweetness of walking forward together in faith. That’s the kind of Lent I wish for us all.
We moved the furniture around in our living room. Not everything, we just moved three key pieces. It took a bit of time because every time we moved something, we could see the dust that had accumulated beneath. So, there was some sweeping and mopping to do, too. Then, by accident, I backed into a small lamp and knocked it over. The bulb smashed into a billion gaseous pieces. So, what was going to be a quick and easy operation turned into half a day. It was a wonderful exercise in imagination and in listening to the other. When we were finished, we stared at the room in wonder. Moving three pieces of furniture changed the entire feel of the space and gave us a new focal point. Not only does the room feel bigger, the new orientation has made all the difference.
God is Always More 