Promises Promises

1 Lent, March 10, 2019

St. John’s, Newtonville, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Whenever I promised my father that I would change my behavior, or do something differently, he would tease me with the words, “Promises, promises.” As I grew older, I realized that life is like a rose garden, and that my father never promised me one. He just promised to stay with me through thick and thin, sometimes even changing his own behavior in response to mine. After a long and faithful life in the UCC, Presbyterian, and Episcopal churches, after my ordination to the priesthood, my 80 year old father decided to confirm his faith in the Episcopal Church.

            The book of Deuteronomy is part of the covenant that the Israelites made with God on their own lifelong journeys. Their story started with Father Abraham, who was called by God to leave his settled life in Syria and travel south. He believed that God would keep God’s promise, that Abraham’s descendents would be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Israel’s story continued with Jacob, who reminded them that wrestling with God is part of the journey, and that such encounters will not only show them a ladder to heaven but also cause them to limp.

Despite betrayal by his brothers into slavery, as well as a famine in Egypt, Joseph believed that God had a plan for them all; that God’s promise of liberation and salvation would eventually lead them across the Red Sea, and through the wilderness under the leadership of Moses. As we hear today in the lesson from Deuteronomy, God had promised them a land, flowing with milk and honey, where they would live with resident aliens and Levites, and establish themselves as God’s chosen and beloved people forever. They would be united under one starry sky, with pillars of clouds during the day and pillars of fire at night, guiding them through thick and thin. 

“Promises, promises,” my father would say. And you and I know that gardens are full of both roses and crowns of thorns. We know that gardens hold more than flowers, and that even deserts can bloom. Gardens have trees and snakes and plenty of temptations. In God’s garden, we all are alien residents, beautiful and diverse creations. We are all migrants, having left God’s original garden to settle into various places throughout our world. We pass through one promised land in search of another, or maybe we plant down our tent stakes and settle in.

“Promises, promises,” my father would say. I remember so many of them over my own lifetime of both wandering and settling. I remember the vows that I made to my husband 45 years ago, and the promises I made at my ordination in 2000.  I recall the promises that I made at the renewal of my baptismal covenant in 2017. Like every year at Lent, I have made promises to myself and to others, and then broken them time and time again. I remember that God has promised to be with me through thick and thin.

Miracle grow can work wonders, I think to myself, as I drop to my knees in prayer. Pruning can help too; and then disaster strikes, or bad news comes, and I recall that a swarm of locusts can wipe out an entire crop, and that famines are real. In times of trouble, I begin to wonder about God and my own journey. Are these plagues inviting me to move on, or is it time to hunker down, and settle in for the long haul, trusting that God has promised to be with me through thick and thin?  In the wilderness, it’s easier to succumb to the voices that tempt us. In the wilderness, food is scarce, thirst is real, and the destination and outcome remain unclear.

Jesus was one of those wandering Arameans that the book of Deuteronomy mentions. His ancestors were from Aram, current day Syria, and Mary and Joseph had traveled from their home in Nazareth to Bethlehem, then to Egypt, and finally settled in the Galilee region of Palestine.  Eventually, Jesus became an itinerant preacher, traveling all over the region to proclaim the good news of God, but first he went to the river Jordan where he was baptized and filled with the Holy Spirit.

            John had promised his followers that through the baptism of repentance their sins would be forgiven. Washed clean, they could then enter the Temple in Jerusalem and make sacrifices pleasing to God. But Jesus didn’t go to the Temple, nor did he return home. Rather, Luke tells us that Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days and nights he was tempted by the devil.

            My father also talked about being led down the primrose path. Perhaps you’ve been on one. You walk into something thinking one thing and then suddenly you find that you’re in a whole different kind of situation. You’re promised a rose garden and then you find yourself in a barren desert. Perhaps, you made a covenant with good intentions but circumstances changed. Or people did. Or I did.  You hoped to be holding a bouquet of roses at the end of the day, and find yourself stripped naked with a crown of thorns on your head.

For whatever reason the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness, Luke’s gospel tells us that it was the devil who tempted Jesus. And the devil was making promises to Jesus. “Promises, promises,” my father would say. If you do this, then I will give you that. Show me your power and I will give you mine. Ask God to save you and the whole world will be yours. “Trust me,” said the devil. “My promises will lead you on a primrose path, into a rose garden kingdom, where the power and the glory will be yours, now and forever.”

            Temptations in the wilderness will come to us in various sizes and shapes, from various people and spirits. People will make us promises for different reasons. As Christians, we are invited into a season of Lent, led by the Spirit of God, to repent - to think again about our lives and our relationships. We are invited to rend not our garments but our hearts. We are asked to turn back to God.

Jesus quotes a passage from Deuteronomy, reminding the devil that it is written in scripture that “Man does not live by bread alone.” I never promised you a rose garden, said God, but I will provide you with daily bread. The psalmist reminds us that God takes no delight in burnt offerings, rather the sacrifice of a troubled spirit, a broken and contrite heart, is pleasing to God; for that is how God’s grace can enter in. We remember that God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness; and so we offer our sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving. This is the primrose path to follow. We trust that God is with us through thick and thin.

            The devil tempted Jesus with appeals to his pride, to his power, and to his control. And yet, as our collect of the day reminds us, God knows the weaknesses of each of us. We will make promises that we cannot keep; and so God sent His only Son who would keep the promise for us. The old covenant became a new covenant.

God promised to save us, to help us to recover our sight from our own blindness, so that we can see God’s hand at work in the world about us. God promised to liberate us from those things that enslave us, we who are oppressed by our sins and weighed down by our guilt. God promised to love us and forgive us even as we put a crown of thorns on His head and pierced His side. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” said Jesus. “Through thick and thin, even death,” said Jesus, “I promise to be with you always.”

            The story of our salvation began with Adam and Eve. No one who believes in God’s promise of salvation will be put to shame, wrote St. Paul. The Word of God is very near to us, in our hearts and on our lips. That Word of God became incarnate in the person of Jesus, who took us down the primrose path into a new garden on Easter morning. There, forgiven and free, the Master Gardener awaits us.

“Promises, promises,” my father would say. Yes, indeed. Promises are broken by us; and so we confess our sins. Promises are kept by God; and so we confess our faith in life of the world to come.

Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Romans 10:8b-13
Luke 4:1-13
Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16