Temptations

St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church, Sudbury, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

1 Lent, March 1, 2020

I am delighted to be with you again in Sudbury, thanks to the invitation of your interim rector, Stephanie. You are nearing the end of your transition from one rector to the next; and to be honest, perhaps like some of you, I love times of transition. Truth be told, our lives are always in transition; in fact transition in the church has become what many call “the new normal.” And, right on cue, here we are today, transitioning into the season of Lent.

In times of transition, we are all vulnerable. We cannot see what lies ahead, nor even what’s lying at our feet. Doubts will seep into our brains like fog; and then, disoriented, we may steer ourselves in wrong directions, or find ourselves wandering aimlessly in circles of confusion. We may listen to the wrong voices, even in our own heads, and then make bad decisions. Unruly passions become like the coronavirus, crossing our borders and infecting our bodies. We forget about God.

Transitions are invariably known as times of temptation. And our scripture lessons provide the stories. It all began with an apple in the garden. You know how it was, in the beginning, when God created Adam and Eve, who were supposed to live happily ever after with God. Our Creator didn’t want Adam and Eve to die, and so God commanded them, “Don’t touch the fruit on that tree!”

Temptation entered their lives in the form of a serpent. The snake said to them, “Don’t you also want to be just like God? To know what is good and what is evil?” The questions seemed reasonable enough and Eve thought wisdom was a good thing, and so she succumbed. Not only did she touch the fruit but she ate it and shared it with her husband. She forgot that God had their best interests in mind.

Now, this serpent was very crafty, just like our temptations. They sneak up behind us and whisper in our ears, “Doesn’t that new person, policy, or program look really good? Surely they are a delight, and much better than the ones we have now, or the ones that came before. Come on, let’s get out of this place,” the snake implores us. “The grass is far greener out there!” Or conversely, it invites complacency. “Let’s just keep things the way they are. Change is always overrated! No sense fixing what isn’t broken. Don’t you think this garden is lovely, just the way it is?”

Slithering silently across the grass, the snake speaks to us in shades of truth. “Be wise as a serpent, like me,” it says. “This new policy, person, and program will save you.” The snake, who is lying right at my feet (double entendre intended) raises my doubts about what I cannot see, which is God. The serpent even throws shade on our Creator. “God doesn’t really want to share God’s power,” the snake adds. “And don’t you want some of that wisdom so you can protect yourself? After all, God may be omnipotent and omniscient, all-powerful and all-knowing, but we are not. And evil comes in many forms. Surely, you know that it has many disguises. Just look around you.”

The consequences of Adam and Eve’s disobedience soon followed, as well as their finger-pointing. Whose fault was it, anyway? Was the serpent being purposefully evil or was it speaking the truth? Perhaps Eve wasn’t guilty. Maybe she wasn't there when God spoke to Adam. And how about Adam? He had heard what God commanded. Was he just looking to reap some benefits and not take any of the blame?  Dare I say that God was the tempter? If God wanted Adam and Eve to live forever, then why would God plant that tree right there in front of them? Why would God create those golden delicious apples, which clearly are meant to be eaten?

Dark thoughts cloud my thinking. I begin to believe that people are rotten to the core, and not to be trusted, rather than created in the image of God. I forget that everything that God creates is good, even the snake, maybe even the devil. Bitter and cynical, I find myself becoming angry and wondering if our world is going to hell in a handbasket. Listening to the serpent, I take a bite out of the apple and then I make my own demands of God. “A new creation is needed,” I tell God. “You created us. You fix us.”

Soon enough, the fog lifts, and reality emerges. Like Adam and Eve, my eyes are suddenly opened; and I see very clearly how vulnerable I am. Accidents happen. Viruses kill. Hearts break. I’ve listened to the wrong people; and I’ve made some foolish mistakes. Realizing the error of my ways, I feel ashamed, and because I don’t want anyone to know how foolish I have been, I try to hide. Despite all the promises of this material world, despite my hand-washing and hand-wringing, I know that eventually I will die. In 12 step language, we call this hitting bottom. Liturgically, we call it Ash Wednesday.

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 Matthew’s gospel, the Spirit of God descended upon Jesus, declaring that he was God’s beloved Son, and then led him into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. It was God who led Jesus from his happy place into a wilderness of vulnerability, transition, and temptation.

His story is similar but different from Adam and Eve’s. Fasting for 40 days and nights, Jesus was not well fed. Facing endless days and nights of sun and sand, he is not surrounded by shade trees and low-hanging fruit. No. Jesus is hungry and living in a desert; and this time the tempter is not a serpent. No, the tempter is a human being coming towards him, smiling, and making reasonable suggestions. 

            The devil is his close companion, whispering to him, and inviting him to flex his godly muscles. “Turn this stone into bread,” the devil says. “I know you’re hungry; it will strengthen you for the journey.” Then, the devil adds, “You know God doesn’t want you to die, so let God save you, even though you’ve behaved foolishly. Show everyone how special you are, and that you have super powers. In fact, you are entitled to those kingdoms and splendor and honor and glory. So give me your allegiance. Take a selfie with me as your friend; and together, we’ll rule the world. Besides, where is that God of yours anyway?”

Unlike the snake, who was crafty, this tempter is bold. The devil doesn’t offer shades of truth, or ask multiple questions, and raise persistent doubts. No, the devil tempts Jesus with clarity, offering black and white solutions. Dangling his divinity in front of him, the devil tells Jesus to deny his humanity. “Be you,” the devil tells him. “Don’t ever forget that you are the Son of God, with whom God is well pleased.” 

Our human temptation is to want to be God, or to be mini-gods. It’s a temptation that remains with us from the very beginning of our lives to their end. Indeed, we are all guilty of this original sin. Forgetting God as our Creator and Savior, Provider and Protector, we want total control. We seek powers and products that we think will defy death, and that we’re saved by our own good deeds or not at all. We forget to walk by faith. We forget that life is a precious gift and a holy mystery, and that God has our best interests at heart.

Our original sin is actually an original blessing. Maybe that was part of God’s creation plan after all; for we develop our characters and deepen our spiritual lives most especially when we are faced with temptations. When we are weak, we can look to God for strength. Indeed, as Martin Luther once wrote, “my temptations have been my masters in divinity.” Without fear, we can let the Spirit of God lead us into the wilderness, for it serves a purpose. As the psalmist wrote, “God becomes our hiding place, preserves us from trouble, instructs and teaches us in the ways we should go.” 

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 pretense. His faith was in God and he believed that trying to hide and cover up our flaws or weaknesses actually distance us from Christ and from others.” (Cathedral St. Paul, Burlington, Feb 4, 2020)

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. Not ashamed of who we are, but guilty of our mistakes, we trust that God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:8, 9) We remember our salvation story, and how Jesus, though tempted as we are, did not sin. While the Spirit of God may lead us into the wilderness, it will also lead us out, and Jesus has shown us the Way.

Do not worry about your life, Jesus told his disciples; for God’s original blessing remains. God does not want us to die but to live, now and forever. In Christ we are a new creation; and a new garden awaits us all.

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Psalm 32