1 Lent, February 26, 2023 Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 Matthew 4:1-11
Transitions are
invariably known as times of temptation. And today’s lessons from scripture
offer us plenty of examples. You remember how it all began in the garden,
right? With good fruit, and an apple? You remember how it was in the beginning,
before your relationships went south, your job became a grind, and life became
a burden? Remember the good old days when you fastened those kids into a
carseat and didn’t worry about them behind the wheel? When no one wore masks
and your loved ones were still alive? When love was in the air and the garden
was in full bloom?
Death reports seem to dominate our news lately,
whether it’s a natural disaster like the earthquakes in Syria and Turkey, mass
murders brought on by war, or even cases of domestic violence. Little microbes
of evil cross our borders, like spy balloons floating across our country,
cancer cells multiplying inside our bodies, or chemicals spilling into our
groundwater.
“Don’t touch that tree,” God warned Adam and Eve. Not
because God didn’t want them to enjoy life; God just didn’t want them to
die.Truth be told, I have a fear of snakes. Even seeing pictures of them gives
me the “willies.” So when the author of the book of Genesis had a snake slither
into the Adam and Eve story, I was ready for “bad things” to happen.
At first, the snake’s questions seemed reasonable
enough. “Don’t you want to be just like God?” the serpent asked. After all,
forewarned is forearmed, right? Why would we not want to know what is good and
evil? Why would we not want to know what God knows? Apparently Eve thought so
too. So she ate the apple and then being a good sharer and a considerate
partner, she offered some to Adam. “Try this, you’ll like it,” she said. And
isn’t that how the slippery slope into bad behavior often begins?
Now, this serpent was
very crafty, just like our temptations. They sneak up behind us and whisper
into our ears, “Doesn’t that new person, new job, new “whatever” look really
good? Like a brightly polished apple, or a shiny new penny, we want it. Now.
After all, we deserve it; we’re entitled to it; and we can take it. It’s within
our reach, and our free will gives us permission to do as we please. After all,
it’s our 1st amendment right! .
Sometimes our temptations invite our complacency and
even our isolation. “No sense fixing what isn’t broken,” we tell ourselves.
“Change is overrated, don’t you think?” And so our unjust systems remain just
that, unjust. Our communication narrows to the range of our cell phones, and
our intimacy suffers. We think that if we just stay inside our own little tree
house, then nothing bad will ever happen. And then the rain begins to fall on
the just and unjust alike, and Noah begins building his boat.
I’ve learned that masks aren’t only physical. To
protect our images, we put fig leaves over certain parts of our lives so that
no one can see what really happens behind closed doors. Dark thoughts cloud our
thinking; and life loses its luster, meaning, and purpose. We become cynical
and depressed. We lose our trust in God.
At times like these we may wonder if the beauty of the
Garden is gone forever, that it has become so overrun by serpents and devils
and viruses and violence that we can no longer see the inherent goodness of our
humanity. We forget that apples come in various colors, that the seeds of life
are at its core, and all blood runs red. Unless, of course, you are a Celtics
fan, and then it bleeds green!
With the serpent whispering in my ear, I take a bite
of that apple. “This world is going to hell in a handbasket,” I tell others,
and then I add. “A new creation is needed.” Pointing my finger, not at the
serpent or at Eve or at any of our leaders, I point my finger at God and say,
“You created us. You fix us!”
Now hubris comes in many forms, and like Adam and Eve,
my eyes are suddenly opened. I begin to see very clearly how I’ve been
listening to the wrong people and voices. I have forgotten that many truths
come from various perspectives. I am embarrassed by some of my thoughts, and
even some of my words and actions. Feeling naked before God, I drop to my knees
literally and figuratively, and confess that I have erred and strayed like a
lost sheep. In 12 step language, we call this “hitting bottom.” In the season
of Lent, we call it Ash Wednesday.
In a meditation by Kate Maynard, she talks about the
witness of St. Francis from the Middle Ages. “According to tradition, whenever
his habit needed repair, St. Francis sewed patches on the outside of his habit
because he wanted people to see that life wasn’t about appearances or
pretenses. His faith was in God and he believed that trying to hide and cover
up our flaws and weaknesses actually distance us from Christ and from others.” (Cathedral St. Paul, Burlington, VT, Feb 4,
2020)
Our salvation story from Genesis to Revelation reminds
us that our temptations didn’t disappear with Adam and Eve. Not even the Son of
God could avoid them. Right from the jump in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus was
driven into the wilderness by the Spirit in order to be tempted by the devil.
And so, yes, we can blame God’s Spirit for the temptations that Jesus endured,
and perhaps even those of Adam and Eve!
And yet, God had a purpose.
God’s purpose was to create and preserve life, and
presumably, testing is part of that. After all, testing can help us get clear
about our priorities. They can help us grow stronger and reorient our lives.
Testing can help us repent and return to the One who gave us life, and who does
not want us to die. And yet, while Adam and Eve and all of us have failed our
tests, Jesus did not.
Fasting for 40 days and 40 nights, Jesus was not well
fed. Facing endless days and nights of sun and sand, Jesus was not surrounded
by shade trees and low-hanging fruit. He was not cuddled up with a partner; for
Jesus was alone, isolated from others. And this time the tempter was not a
serpent, but someone who looked just like him.
No, the tempter in today’s gospel passage is not
slithering on the ground towards Jesus, but walking towards him, smiling, and
making reasonable suggestions. “Lonely?” the devil asks. “I’m here to help.” So
give me your allegiance and we’ll create a glorious partnership together. We’ll
be world leaders. In fact, take a selfie with me as your bestie and I’ll post
it on Tik Tok for everyone to envy. Besides, where is that God of yours
anyway?”
Then he invited Jesus to flex his godly muscles. “Turn
this stone into bread,” the devil said. “I know you’re hungry; and it will
strengthen you for your journey. Besides, I'll give you all these lovely apples
to eat as well. Let’s call them sinful pleasures, shall we?” Then piling it on,
the devil said, “You know that God doesn’t want you to die, so let God save
you. Just jump, you’ll see. Why don’t you show everyone how special and
powerful you are?”
Unlike the snake who is crafty and subtle, this
tempter is bold. The devil doesn’t offer shades of truth while throwing shade
at our Creator. No, the devil tempts Jesus with clarity, offering him black and
white solutions in a garden that is filled with complexity and nuance. Dangling
his divinity in front of him, the devil wants Jesus to deny his humanity. “You
be you,” the devil encourages him. “After all, you are God’s beloved Son! You
deserve these things. You’re entitled to them! Take what is rightfully yours!”
Our human temptation is to want to be like God. 100%
free and without discipline or responsibility to others. We want the triple P’s
of power, possessions, and privilege. With our overinflated EGOs, an acronym
for “easing God out”, we put ourselves in the middle of the garden; and we no
longer listen to the Voice of the One who created us. Or the One who redeemed
us.
We begin our season of Lent by pointing the finger
back at ourselves and confessing our sins; for if we say we have no sin, we
deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. No longer ashamed of who we are,
we can drop our masks. We can admit our guilt. We can renew our trust in God,
who will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John
1:8,9)
Yes, we’ve touched the tree of the knowledge of good
and evil. And yes, we have consumed forbidden fruit; and yet God does not want
us to die but to live, now and forever. In Christ, we become a new creation;
and in the end, as it was in the beginning, the Garden awaits us all. At its
center is the Tree of Eternal Life. Amen.
