This morning I’m not going to trace the early church origins of our contemporary Lenten practice – there are articles and websites you can explore for that (and I encourage you to do so). Nor am I going to spend much time examining the tradition of fasting. Regarding fasting, I simply invite you to consider that this practice is not simply about self-disciple or seemingly arbitrary self-denial. This ancient practice is about leading your body, mind, and heart into a new state of awareness. It’s about a sustained period of intentional self-denial, inducing chronic hunger or want, in order to come to become more aware of our shared state of dependence and primordial needs. From this place of depravity, you can develop more compassionate cravings and begin to see the promise of abundance in God’s kingdom anew. And, in contrast to fasting, there’s a more contemporary practice of taking on a new discipline during Lent rather than giving up something. But, these are not what I’m preaching about this morning.
When I was younger, I was at best a Christmas Christian. Later in life, after my baptism as an adult, I was more of an Easter Christian. In both cases, the locus of identification for my beliefs and faith was with one of these high holidays – these peak moments in which the birth and resurrection of our Lord and Savior are remembered. These holidays were like mountain tops that I suddenly inhabited every year to remind me of my identity. However, as I’ve matured in my Christian journey, I’ve recognized that most of my life is spent in the wilderness valley between these peak experiences. It’s in this wilderness valley – sometimes amid the shadow of death, and certainly contending with temptations – that my convictions are tested and I learn about living as a faithful Christian. Because in Lent we’re more focused on and explicit about the truths to be discovered and learned from in this sometimes dark night of the soul in the valley, beginning with a jolting reminder of our mortality on Ash Wednesday, I’m come to consider myself a Lenten Christian. Even more than during Christmas or Easter, lately I’m seeing Lent as “where it’s at”… where the rubber hits to road, so to speak, in our development as faithful disciples. Might you be a Lenten Christian, too?
Two of the aspects of being Lenten Christian that I want to say more about this morning are embracing “40” and resisting the temptation of misplaced trust.
Embracing “40”
No, I’m not talking about chronological age (although I am learning to embrace this as well now that I’ve recently entered my 40’s). I’m referring to a qualitative, kairos (καιρός), sense of the number 40 which signals something about our journey in relationship to God. In today’s Gospel, we’re told that following Jesus’ baptism, the Holy Spirit led (“drove” in Mark) him into the wilderness for forty days, where he fasted and was tempted by Satan. So, why 40 days? That number sounds familiar to us, doesn’t it? Often we’ve heard the number forty used in scriptures to signify a special time. For instance:
- 40 days and nights of the great flood (Gen 7:4)
- 40 days Noah waits before exiting the
- 40 days, twice, of Moses fasting on
- 40 years in the desert wilderness as the followers of Moses leave captivity and traveled to a promised land (Num 14: 33; Deut 29: 4)
- 40 days that David was taunted by Goliath (1 Sam 17:16)
- 40 days that Elijah fasted in the wilderness when all seemed against him (1 Kings 19:8)
- 40 days that the resurrected Jesus helped prepare his followers from the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost (Acts 1:3)
…and so on.
What do all of these 40’s have in common? The characters in these stories weren’t choosing to enter these 40’s for their health or vanities about self-discipline (I believe I’ll give up chocolate or do more exercise for forty days). No, they were generally led into 40’s by God for a higher purpose. Whether forty is numbering days or years, whether the journeys are literal or metaphorical, they’re all periods marked by: being in between; waiting; trials of trust; tests of will and spiritual mettle; and precursors foreshadowing some form of liberating deliverance or salvation. Forty represents periods when the faithful are pushed, often the brink… by God… to further develop and demonstrate the depths of their faith, hope, and love.
And so here we are in our 40 – forty days of Lent (not counting the Sundays) – in which we’re invited to learn more about our mettle, our deepest hungers and temptations, and our ultimate reliance on God. Sisters and brothers, how will you embrace “40” this year as Lenten Christians?
Resisting the temptation of misplaced trust
Today’s readings from Genesis and Matthew, along with Paul’s exposition on sin, reinforces the point of view that Christ’s obedient life reversed the effects of the ‘original sin’ of our disobedient ancestors Eve and Adam. “…just as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man's act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.” The good news is that our ‘fall’ has been reversed by his ‘rising’, right? Well, there’s more to consider in these lessons as we live most our lives between the peak experiences of Eden and Easter.
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| The Temptation and Fall of Eve by William Blake, 1808 |
Do you hear in the story of the Garden of Eden that our fall was the result of the sin of disobedience? What if the trespass that resulted in us living more in the wilderness of the world rather than the perfection of God’s garden was the temptation of mis-placed trust? ….trust in the reasoning of a crafty serpent who tempted us to trust in our own intentions more than God’s. …trust in what is a delight to the eyes more than what is written on our hearts. …more trust in the fruitfulness of our own curiosity and will to power than in God’s promises and provisions for us. If you were to ride tandem with me for a week, admittedly you’d probably observe evidence that I seem to trust myself more than I do God, getting off course and tempted by the belief that I’m in control of more than I really am or mistaking knowledge for wisdom. Surely some of you have had the experience of mucking up a good thing by following your own misguided sense that you “knew better” than anybody else… only to look back later and ask, “now why did I go and do that?” As my grandfather used to say, “if it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix it.” And, yet, we almost can’t help ourselves. We are often tempted to trust our own desires and abilities before we trust God’s.
What does Jesus show us about temptation and trust? In today’s Gospel, the author tells us that Jesus, after his baptism, was led by the Spirit into a wilderness of temptations. In the Bible, reference to “time in the wilderness,” not unlike the use of “40,” brings up images of trial and testing. It’s an in between space - between being released from one thing and before the opportunity to embrace something new. Emphasizing this idea, we’re told that Jesus fasted for 40 days, cultivating his sense of dependence and communion with God before continuing his mission call. Assuming that Jesus is fatigued from fasting, but underestimating the trust and faith that has been cultivated over these 40 days, the Devil tempts Jesus to shortcut his self-depravation by appealing to parts of the Torah that might be read to suggest that Jesus is not meant to deny himself at all… and that, in fact, maybe Jesus is entitled to grander wants than just his needs. Like the crafty serpent, the demon is tempting Jesus to believe in his own power to test God’s trustworthiness. Can you hear the devil whispering, “God trusts you to provide for yourself. If you’re tempted to do something stupid and self-destructive, go ahead; hasn’t God promised to save you? It’s really easier than you think to have all that you desire in this world – simply trust in ambition, prestige, and power.”
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| Christ in the Wilderness by Ivan Kramskoy,1872 |
Jesus deflects these temptations by appealing to other wisdom in the Torah (Deut 6:13-16; 8:3) clarifying that faithfulness is not all about our temporal needs and immediate desires. We should keep our mind and heart on God for the long term; trusting, not testing God on a whim. We are to remain steadfast in our trust that God will provide us with spiritual food that is more nourishing that any material goods we might seek as hasty substitutes for true satisfaction. And, importantly, unlike the anonymous serpent in Genesis, Jesus is able to name the source of his temptations (Satan) thereby empowering his command for it to flee from him.
Conclusion
Although we pray each week, “Lead us not into temptation… save us from the time of trial,” we are, as humans, often tempted and tried. In the wilderness of your life, what hunger of yours is most easily exploited? What desires do you have right now that have the most potential to lead you away from God? If we were to examine your behaviors closely, what would be revealed about who/what you trust in the most?
Sisters and brothers, how might we grow as Christians this Lenten season by learning to name the sources of our most troubling temptations and then turning to God for help with them; trusting in God’s power, more than our own?
Let’s embrace the wilderness journey of these 40 days, taking a deeper, more honest look at where we place our trust, and recalibrating our convictions toward reliance on and hope in a risen Lord who we will meet anew at Easter.
St. Patrick, who we remember this week, returned to Ireland (where he had been enslaved as a shepherd in his youth) at about age 40 to proclaim the Good News and lead people to Christ. In his Confessions, he writes, “…I give thanks to my God unceasingly who has kept me faithful in times of trial, so that today I offer sacrifice to him confidently, the living sacrifice of my life to Christ my Lord, who has sustained me in all my difficulties…. Whether I receive good or ill I always render thanks to God who taught me to trust him unreservedly.” (as quoted on page 95 of Celebrating the Saints: Devotional Readings for Saints’ Days, © 2001 by Robert Atwell and Christopher L. Webber / Morehouse Publishing)
Let us pray…
Come Holy Spirit, lead us deeper into the wilderness this Lent. We trust you are with us, as you’ve been with our ancestors in their times of trial. Yet, your promises of resurrection can seem so far away and out of our reach as we surrender to fasting hunger and vulnerability, encountering some of our deepest fears, openly wrestling with the anxieties of our circumstances, and facing the implications of our mortality during this Lenten season. Have mercy on us as we wander in this wilderness. Nurture the hope that you’ve instilled in each of us and as a community, cultivate the faith you’ve placed in our hearts and the generosity of this family, and nourish our spirits through you Word. Help us fully experience this time of penitent preparation so that we’re led to let the untrustworthy in us truly die as we await being born anew into a promised kingdom. All this we ask in the name of Jesus, our Christ, as we walk with him toward the cross as Lenten Christians. AMEN
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