Lent 1A
February 22, 2026
Matthew 4:1-11
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to Lent! On this first Sunday in Lent, the lectionary focuses on temptation. First, 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 the devil in the desert. Matthew’s telling of this is especially colorful – we get to hear the specific ways that the devil tempts Jesus, and how sneakily he tries to do it. We also see that, 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.
Now that’s all well and good… but still, even though we know Jesus defeated the power of 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 this. That’s why I appreciate that we always get to hear this story of Jesus’ temptation on this first Sunday of Lent.
One more thing: this Lent, our particular focus will be on hunger. Each week, we will learn something about hunger, both from local agencies during worship, and from a more theological approach after worship. To accompany this learning, Deacon Emily and I have put together a sermon series on spiritual hungers. So as you listen, today and each week, consider what spiritual hunger is being titillated for you by these texts. How do they reveal that for which your spirit hungers? Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I have, for the past couple of years, been working on coming to terms with the reality that I am no longer a “young adult;” I am middle-aged. That is, at 42 years old, I am likely about halfway through my life. And so, I have started thinking about, you know, middle-aged things. The life goals I had as a younger person have all been met: I have a family with two kids I adore, a job that both challenges and feeds me, extended family nearby, friends I enjoy. But – I’ve still got, God willing, at least half of my life ahead of me. So that question starts to creep into my consciousness: is this all there is? What is left for me to strive for that I don’t already have?
This is the sweet spot advertising companies look for: that possibility that people feel a sort of longing, a craving to be fulfilled by something more. So they work to convince you that you can and will feel fulfilled… if only you buy this product! If you start this hobby, go on that vacation, buy this car or that outfit – this can be the key to you finally finding your purpose! This is how you feed your spiritual hunger.
It’s a pretty smart approach, really. Because people are hungry for fulfillment, for meaning, for a purpose. We want to be fulfilled in our jobs, in our family life, among our friends. The trouble is, this fulfillment can be difficult to come by, and we search for it among anything we can find, especially if it is close at hand – and, unfortunately, we don’t always search in the places that will actually provide what we are searching for.
And this is where we run into the problem of temptation – the very problem Jesus has in our Gospel reading today. The detail that jumps out at me in this text is that, “Jesus was famished.” Famished, exhausted, weak, susceptible, vulnerable. Just exactly the state the devil wants him in when he begins his tempting ways. And the first temptation is the most carnal of all – he suggests that the fasting Jesus feed himself! Wow, what I wouldn’t give to be fed after 40 days without food. And the next two aren’t any easier: Jesus turns down authority over all the kingdoms of the world, and a chance to prove himself as the Son of God. I mean, talk about a purpose! Yet all of this, he turns down.
Of course we are not tempted by such dramatic things as these… or are we?
We, too, hunger: for love, companionship, identity, belonging, purpose. We crave power: over the various circumstances in the world and in our lives that aren’t going the way we would have liked or chosen. And, we long for a chance to prove ourselves to the world: as people who matter.
But the difference is that where Jesus knows exactly how those needs can be fulfilled – that is, by God alone – we, on the other hand, search for anything earthly that might be close at hand to fill them for us, whether that is the latest technology or trend, or dozens of clever friends, or brilliant and successful children. And yes, sometimes we seek it through more altruistic means – volunteer work, for example, and deepening relationships with others – but still, we often lean on ourselves and our own devices, to feed that hunger for purpose and fulfillment.
earthly things. Blaise Pascal, a 17th century French philosopher, talked about a sort of God-shaped hole that lies within us. He writes, “This [hole] we try in vain to fill with everything around us… [But] this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words, by God alone.” One contemporary theologian, Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, compares this desperate longing we have to fill that hole, with a baby’s pacifier. She writes, “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.”
What is particularly destructive is what we look for to be our un-nourishing “pacifiers.” These things can become another word with which we are more familiar: self-medicating, or, addictions. In our desperate attempts to fill the hole, we become tempted by whatever makes us feel better in the moment, be it a substance, exercise, work, or shopping. And if it works once, we learn to rely on it to do the job every time – even as we know that these are only quick fixes, and not what will sustain us in the long run.
Another way we seek to fill that hole, I think, is with stuff. Remember what I was saying earlier about advertising strategies? If ads can convince us that our lives are somehow lacking because we do not have this product, or put more positively, that our lives will be more whole and true if we do have this product, then it is no wonder that we go out and buy it. How tempting it then becomes to fill our God-shaped holes with stuff, and then to let our stuff (the car we drive, the clothes we wear, the location of our house, our décor) define who we are.
These things are not all inherently bad. But do any of them actually fill our God-shaped holes? Do they truly serve to provide us with purpose, with meaning, with the sense of fulfillment we so crave? Maybe sometimes, on some level. But like a nutrient-poor instant meal or vending machine chips, they will not make us feel full for long. Because these things do not nourish us, not down to our very souls.
Jesus knew that, of course. Remarkably, though he could easily have engaged with any of the devil’s temptations and likely come out on top, his response to the devil instead is to quote the word of God, holy scripture, because that is something he knows he can trust, and something that is nourishing and sustaining. In other words, in his moment of being famished, Jesus lets God fill that hole, because indeed God is the only one who can.
(I do think it is worth mentioning, as an aside, that the devil also uses scripture. The challenge with scripture, and the reason it is important not just to read it but to study it, is that you can prove almost anything you want with scripture if you’re motivated enough to do so. For example, both slave-holders and abolitionists used scripture to support their view. But the way the devil uses it is like that reality show, “Is it Cake?” where they make cake that looks like real items, like an old boot or something, and you don’t know until you cut into it whether it is really cake or actually just an old boot. The devil will give us an old boot, every time. It is through prayerful study of scripture that we learn to tell the difference – and I hope you will join us in that this Lent!)
So, where do we go from here? This whole sermon, I’ve been referring to a place in us that seems to be lacking, that is a hole, a place where we experience a spiritual hunger. What if instead of imagining that this hole is a place where we are lacking, we imagine that this hollowness within us is not something bad or wrong, but rather, is an uncluttered place in our soul into which God can enter and rule? If you feel loneliness, for example, don’t reach immediately for something to fill it – something earthly and fleeting. Instead, name the feeling, let yourself feel it, and then prayerfully imagine God entering into that emptiness. If you feel sadness: let yourself feel that hole, then let God come into it and nourish it. If you feel anxiety: notice that you feel anxious, then breathe deeply, letting the Spirit enter you just as it entered Jesus when he was led into the wilderness for a trying 40 days. And as you breathe out the air, let God remain in that place, fulfilling you and nourishing you in a way that nothing on earth ever can.
As you come forward to this table in a few minutes, hungry for fulfillment, remember these things. As you reach out your hands for bread, that holy food, ask for this sacrament to fulfill you. As you feel it going down your throat, know that God is going into that part of yourself that needs filling. And as you return to your seats, remember that Christ goes with you, fulfilling and nourishing you, wherever you go. That is God’s promise for you.
Let us pray… Nourishing God, you satisfy the hungry heart. Satisfy us in whatever longing we have. Fill our God-shaped holes with the only thing that will give us lasting nourishment: your love, grace and mercy. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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