Lent 1A
March 1, 2020
Matthew 4:1-11
Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to
Lent! On this first Sunday in Lent, the lectionary focuses on temptation.
First, today, we will hear the story of the very first temptation, Adam and Eve
in the Garden of Eden. Of course we know how that went – they give into the
crafty serpent and eat the forbidden fruit, and it is all downhill from there.
But then in the
Gospel, we hear another temptation story, and this one has a happier ending:
the story of Jesus being tempted by Satan in the desert. Where Adam and Eve
fail in maintaining trust in God, Jesus overcomes the devil at every turn. Even
though the devil makes a very compelling case by drawing from scripture, Jesus
is steadfast in his trust in and reliance on God.
In his letter
to the Romans, Paul will make sense of this for us, reminding us that while sin
came into the world through the actions of one man (Adam), sin is also defeated
by one man (Jesus), a sort of “new Adam,” and because of this, as Paul says,
“many will be made righteous.”
Now that’s all well
and good… but still, even though we know Jesus defeated sin, the temptation to
stray like Adam and Eve is very real to us, even on a daily basis. We know
this, and God knows that. That’s why I appreciate that we always get to hear
this story of Jesus’ temptation on this first Sunday of Lent.
So as you listen, think about the
sorts of things that tempt you – maybe food or drink, or buying new things, or
finding your fulfillment in things that are not of God – think of those things,
and listen in these readings for a word of hope that speaks to that struggle.
Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our
Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Simplicity is
not the same as easy.
I’m reminded of
this every time I suddenly get the urge to do something to simplify my life.
Maybe I watch an episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, and think, “I
could do that!” and go to my closet, because I can think of at least two things
right off the bat that I can get rid of. And I remove those two things and then
stare at the rest of my things… and my heart starts to pound, and I’m suddenly
exhausted and terrified at the thought of getting rid of things that I might
need someday, or that I once loved. And I walk out of the room with a sigh,
leaving the clutter behind me, wishing life could be simpler. Or maybe I make a
reminder on my phone to stop and have a sabbath in the middle of my day, to sit
and breathe and be with God… but the reminder dings and I am in the middle of
something important and I ignore it, and then beat myself up about it the rest
of the day. Or maybe I buy the fresh ingredients… but they go bad before I
actually get to making that healthy meal.
Yup, simplicity
is not easy… at least, not at first. I enjoy reading stories about the peace that
people find after the purge, about after the health benefits of cooking
from scratch have kicked in, about after they have noticed how much more
joyful and closer to God they feel when they take the time regularly to sit
quietly with God. Reading these stories reminds me that it is hard – at first –
but the payoff is great. And if we are willing to go through the trouble of an
intense diet, or a rigorous exercise regimen, or a demanding professional
development program, why not put the same effort forth to consciously make our
complicated, busy, over-full lives simpler and ourselves more aware of God’s
presence in them? Why not work so hard to become closer to God? Do we think
that this won’t be as worth our time or energy as a diet is? So I read the
stories. I get motivated. I try again. And I remember again: simplicity is not
easy – at least, not at first.
Why is it so
difficult? Today’s readings about temptation hit the nail right on the head:
from the beginning of time, we humans have been very susceptible to temptation,
and in particular, to the temptation to be self-sufficient, rather than reliant
on God. We want to know more, to rely on ourselves more, to be more powerful,
to be self-actualized – just like Adam and Eve wanted. There’s a reason this is
the first recorded sin – because it is the most prevalent, even still! Now
these things are not bad in and of themselves. Knowledge, self-reliance, and
fulfilling your potential are wonderful things, things for which I have personally
striven and for which I am equipping my own children. The problem comes when we
accomplish these things, and then subsequently determine that we no longer have
need for God, or that our need for God has lessened, or even, that we see ourselves
as more trustworthy than God is. That, you see, is the essence of the sin that
was committed in the Garden of Eden: it was the sin of trusting something else
more than God.
Theologians
across time have observed and tried to explain this tendency. Humans are always
looking for something, anything, to satisfy them, all the while looking to
anything but God to do it. St. Augustine famously wrote in the 5th
century, “Our hearts are restless ‘til they find their rest in thee.” Blaise
Pascal in the 17th century described this restlessness as having a
sort of “God-shaped hole” that we are always looking to fill. In light of these
voices, contemporary preacher and professor David Lose observes that before the
“original sin,” there was “original insecurity.” “Adam and Eve,” he
writes, “are tempted to overcome that original insecurity not through their
relationship with God, but through the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of
good and evil, fruit that in that moment looks to be shaped just like their
hole.” You see, that insecurity translates to an unwillingness to trust in
God’s providence, and an insistence to rely on our own devices to give us what
we need. We put our trust in things that are not-God.
This is where
simplicity comes in. One of the traditional disciplines of Lent is to fast, to
remove whatever comes between us and God, so that we would stop relying on
that, and instead learn to rely on and trust in God’s proven providence. Usually we think of this in terms of food, but you can fast from anything. So
let’s take, for example, the simplicity task of getting rid of our surplus of
things – and see it as a sort of fast from surplus. Most of us would say we
have too much stuff, yet if this is the case, why not just get rid of it? What
is stopping us? Well, here are some things that stop me: 1) I’m afraid that if
I get rid of it, I will regret it later, that I will find I really needed it.
2) I’m afraid that if I get rid of it, someone else’s feelings will be hurt. 3)
The item reminds me of a past time that is no longer a reality for me, and if I
get rid of the item, I’m afraid I’ll have to accept that this past is, indeed,
gone. Did you notice what word appeared in all three reasons? Afraid. I am
afraid. And so, I make my decisions about my possessions out of that fear,
rather than out of the assurance of abundance, the recognition that God has
always provided for my needs before. I surround myself with things I’ll have
just in case God’s providence fails, and I make my decisions about them out of
fear, not out of trust.
But living a
life of fear, is not living a life of faith. How simplicity can help us with
that during this Lenten season is this: the effort to live simply is a
conscious effort to put aside those fears, and shed those things we have tried
to use to fill our God-shaped hole: our too-many things, our busy and Very
Important schedule, our temptation to live a life of convenience and ease
wherever possible. When we fast from these things, even just for 6 weeks, we
have a chance to reset our priorities. We have a chance to see what has been
getting in the way of trusting God (even if we didn’t notice it!). It is often
in the absence of something, isn’t it, that we realize what its role was for us,
and whether it is really serving us in the way we want or need it to.
So once we realize
what we have been using to fill the God-shaped hole, and recognize a need for
that to change, how do we change it? How do we keep from falling into the same
trap of looking to the wrong things to satisfy us? Jesus shows us how to do
that in his own run-in with the devil. The devil tempts Jesus with all the same
things that tempt us: self-reliance, trusting in himself and his own power rather
than in God’s power, proving himself to the world. When Adam and Eve were
tempted by these things, they went for it. But when Jesus is faced with these
appealing opportunities, he deflects, and instead defines himself not in
relation to power and prestige, but in relation to God.
The devil tries to call that identity
into question, by saying repeatedly, “If you are the Son of God…” Now,
Jesus knows he IS the Son of God – God himself said as much in the baptism
scene that directly precedes this. Confident in his God-given identity, he resists
the devil’s temptation to define himself by anything else – by power or
strength or self-sufficiency. Instead, he identifies himself as God’s beloved,
who is content to stand with us in our hunger, vulnerability, dependence, and
be reliant as we are on God’s grace, mercy, and promises. That, you see, is
where his true power lies: in his relationship with God, and in his allegiance
to and trust in the God who begot him and sustains him.
And that is
where our power lies, too: in defining and identifying ourselves not by our
things, or our accomplishments, or how busy we are, but by our identity as
children of God, created good, and beloved. Our identity stems from our
baptism, when we were called these things – God’s own, beloved children. Our
identity lies in being so loved by God, that God would give his own Son for our
sake, to show us the extent of that love, to lead us to victory and life.
We mustn’t
forget that. Simplicity is not easy, but if it can help us to overcome some of
the complexity of our lives to trust instead in God’s promise, it is worth it.
If it can help us to rely on God’s love and believe our identity is formed by
that love, and that God brings us life, it is worth it. May we, in these coming
weeks, remove whatever would tempt us to believe otherwise.
Let us pray… Trustworthy
God, we are always seeking to be fulfilled, and the world tempts us with many
false fixes. Turn our sight to you, that we would find our satisfaction only in
your grace and love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Image credit:
| Hakusui, Komeno. Adam and Eve, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=50235 [retrieved March 3, 2020]. Original source: http://www.mfa.org/. |
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