Rev. Betsy Aldrich Garland
Luke 4:1-13
February 21, 2010

Wilderness Companions

Our first Sunday in Lent, at the beginning of our 40 days of discernment, finds Jesus at the beginning of his 40 days in the wilderness, a time for sorting out the meaning of his visionary experience and God’s call upon his life.

You remember the story of his baptism in the Jordon by his cousin John. After Jesus comes up out of the water and is praying, the Holy Spirit descends on him like a dove and a voice comes from heaven: “You are my son, my Beloved.” We can imagine that he has come out here into the wilderness to discern what these things mean for him and his ministry, to face his own demons and doubts, to examine his commitment to God and God’s way in the world.

How might we understand the symbolism in this passage? What does it mean for us?

First, we might look at Jesus in the wilderness and ask, in what ways do we experience the wilderness in our own lives? I look out at this congregation and see the wilderness of economic uncertainty, the wilderness of family estrangement and conflict and pain, the wilderness of untimely death, the wilderness of alcoholism, drug abuse, and mental illness. And, of course, we are in the midst of the wilderness of pastoral transition, suspended between the ministry that has been and the ministry that shall be.

And it’s not just us: We can’t miss the wilderness that is Iraq or Afghanistan or Haiti – or Washington, for that matter, in the political posturing and the stalemate between the parties – and the wilderness that is the global financial crisis that doesn’t seem to want to go away. We, too, experience the wilderness of our common life.

Then, too, we might look at the meaning of the temptations: Much is made of them. How often have you heard Jesus’ retort to the devil, “One does not live by bread alone!” What do you think of these three challenges posed to Jesus? Some scholars say they are a review of Israel’s history and fall from grace. Others, that they confront our own human situation and our propensity to act for our own selfish gain.

But look at the temptations: On the surface, the devil challenges Jesus to do good things, to take actions that will serve his people – which Jesus chooses not to do. In the first temptation, for Jesus to turn stones into bread would have been a blessing to hungry people, and people under Roman occupation were certainly hungry and in need of bread.

In the second, for Jesus to have power and authority over all the nations of the world would have made it possible for him to overthrow the Roman occupation and rule with justice, a blessing for oppressed people. And wasn’t that what the prophets were calling for all along? Remember, Jesus had just read from the prophet Isaiah in his hometown synagogue a few days before, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me...to preach good news to the poor, release to the captives ....” Why not seize the day?

And in the third temptation, for Jesus to go to the temple in Jerusalem where supposedly the most righteous – the priests – were in charge and to test it would certainly have been called for. The religious hierarchy was working hand in glove with the Roman governor and elite to collude in the repression. Jesus could have brought needed reform to the religious institution.

But Jesus rejects these options, at least during his wilderness adventure. Later, though, he does them all: He feeds the 5,000. He preaches righteous thinking and acting. He whips the money changers right out of the temple and confronts the religious leaders. So, what is going on? What are we to learn from Jesus in our own wilderness journeys?

On the surface, it might be about saying No to worldly things in order to say Yes to God – which is confusing because the temptations that Jesus rejects are things that, at another time and in another venue, he would embrace as a way of saying Yes to God. So, as they say, timing is everything!

Or, perhaps, evil is masquerading as good: We see that, for example, when hatred and fear of gays are disguised in the language of so called “family values,” and pressure to save marriage denies it to those who don’t fit the stereotype. But these are easy answers – and they may not be the right ones.

Let’s take another look: Jesus is facing the temptation to be a hero, to be great in his own eyes as well as the eyes of the world, to save people through his own personal power. Wouldn’t we all? If you’re a teacher, wouldn’t you like to turn around the children in your classroom through your own loving perseverance and attention? If you’re a health care worker, wouldn’t you like to save the next victim of a stabbing or an auto accident – or someone suffering from cancer – through your own quick action or medical judgment? Wouldn’t I like to preach a sermon that would solve all the theological problems of this congregation and make your lives better? You bettcha,” as someone often has been heard to say.

But then, it’s all about us – and not about God! It’s about our success and not about God’s presence in the world, acting through us. It’s about our egos and not about divine mystery. To use an old hymn, the chorus becomes not, “How Great Thou Art,” but “How Great We Are.” Perhaps this is our greatest temptation....

But Jesus resisted making his ministry about himself. In that wilderness, he emptied himself of personal ambition to make room for God’s spirit to fully inhabit him so that he could be for his followers – and for us – God’s presence in our midst.

Jesus was not alone in the wilderness. He went there filled with the Spirit, led by the Spirit. The Spirit did not just “drop him off” to fend for himself. The Spirit strengthened him in fasting, led him in prayer, prepared him for the sorrow of rejection and misunderstanding and the physical pain to come on the cross.

Being baptized and chosen and beloved of God was not sufficient preparation to begin his ministry – just as it is not for us. We need a wilderness. That’s why we have Lent, a period of 40 days in each of our own wildernesses to be open to the leading of God in our lives. It’s not enough to give up candy, or dessert, or excess TV. Doing so might help our waistlines – but not our lifeline to God. “Lent is ... not giving up something,” one liturgical scholar wrote, “but rather taking upon ourselves the intention and the receptivity to God’s grace so that we may worthily participate in the mystery of God-with-us.”1

This is what Jesus was doing during his 40 days in the wilderness, and this is what we are called to do during our 40 days of Lent – to discern God’s call upon our lives. If we can do this, we will discover that God is faithful, and not only will God meet us in the wildernesses of our own time, but God will lead us through them.

May it be so! Amen.

1. Hoyt L. Hickman, The New Handbook of the Christian Year, as quoted in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, page 46.