Lent I C- 2019 St. John s Cathedral March 9-10, 2019 I used to have a Jesus action figure a little plastic Jesus with moveable arms and some wheels underneath so that he could move across a table. There has been one perched in the window of Lucas Kulhnek-Arenas old office since he left for seminary. As action figures go, it isn t very extreme. It doesn t shape-shift into something fearsome or make any noises. This action-jesus is understated, but unique. He is, in this plastic toy, a superhero of a different kind. We Americans really have a fascination with superheroes, whether they are Superman, Wonder Woman, Spiderman, Batman or others in the expanding Marvel Comic Universe, a universe that I have not even begun to explore. These characters do things no one else can do. They leap tall buildings do amazing feats of strength, or attack evil in unique ways. They eclipse the boundaries of our common humanity. When I was a child I was fascinated by the adventures of Superman, flying through the sky as easily as if he were walking down the street. And there is a part of us that loves that. Somehow our superheroes, real or fictitious, give us the illusion that our humanity, our vulnerability, can be overcome. That there is a kind of immortality in their fame. All of this, I think, provides an interesting backdrop to the familiar story of Jesus temptation in the wilderness that we heard in today s gospel reading from Luke. It s interesting because at the very core of this story is the clear message that Jesus is not trying to be a superhero. Instead, he is human as we are. 1
Jesus enters the severity of the wilderness after his baptism and as he prepares to begin his ministry. He spends 40 days, led by the Spirit, tempted by the devil and wrestling with who he is and what he is about. It is hard work in a harsh place and away from creature comforts. It is clearly a place of testing. This may connect us with a real piece of human nature. At times, many of us would prefer to avoid the reality that we are frail, vulnerable and mortal. Sometimes we go to great lengths to do this. The term supermom something I once attempted to be is one example. This gospel today shows Jesus not as superhuman, but at his human best. One commentator calls Jesus a thirty-one-year-old carpenter s son who is a crossroads in his life and is most decidedly vulnerable and human. Maybe you have had encounters with wilderness either the wilderness of nature or, perhaps, the wilderness within us. I remember some conversation in a Bible study group that was reading this story of Jesus in the wilderness in my former parish in Kennewick. Several people in the group had been lost or stranded in the wilderness at some times in their lives times that were tough and sometimes scary for them. They were stories of being separated from their hiking party, or having car trouble on a remote road or losing their bearings in the mountains. Their stories were full of fear and vulnerability a sense that they were very small the wilderness was very big and powerful. But their stories were also stories of insight. They learned something from their wilderness times. Sometimes it was a sense of perspective about their limits -- about their humanity. Often their stories were about coming to know their dependence on God. Not surprisingly, prayer was a part of many of these wilderness challenges. 2
Jesus time in the wilderness certainly had the challenges of the harshness of nature and his fasting put him in touch with the reality of hunger. He also confronted three temptations offered by the devil. So this was a daunting scenario. For us it can be like a blank canvas for Jesus to paint something about what his ministry is NOT about. A few weeks ago we heard a text from Luke that outlined some of what Jesus ministry WAS about as he read from the scroll of Isaiah in the synagogue. He said, in essence, that his ministry was about bringing good news to the poor, release to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free and proclaiming a year of the Lord s favor. What it was NOT about was superhuman stunts. And the temptations really waved some of those options in front of him. In the midst of his fasting, his hunger, the first was to turn this stone into a loaf of bread. In other words, use your authority as the son of God to take care of your own needs. Fill your stomach instantly. The next was to seize power. He could dominate all kingdoms of the world in exchange for worshiping the devil. After all, controlling and dominating is a common antidote to fear. But again and again, Jesus made it clear that his mission would be about offering wholeness to others, not about asserting worldly power. It would be about being a servant and calling others to servanthood. And he pushed that temptation away. The third was to do a stunt defying gravity and leaping off the pinnacle of the temple and living to tell the story. A superhero feat for sure leaping tall buildings with a single bound. As Jesus repels each of these temptations he shows us who he is because he knows who he is. He is not the one who needs to perform superhuman feats to accomplish his mission of bringing healing and wholeness to the world. He is the one who is willing and vulnerable 3
enough as he enters of the harshness of the wilderness to further discover the depths of his own soul. We are always launched into lent with a version of this story of wilderness and temptation. Lent is always a time when we are issued an invitation to enter and explore wilderness in a sense. Not so much in the physical sense of desert or forest, but the wilderness within us. A place of discovery. Often we choose to fast in some way during Lent whether that be from some food or something else. (Perhaps I should fast from Amazon this year.) Theologian Ronald Rolheiser suggests that the Lenten fast is to stop eating or consuming-- whatever protects us from the desert inside us. To feel our smallness, or vulnerability, or our fears. To face our chaos. That can be a formidable wilderness. Whenever we let go of whatever insulates from that wilderness we discover again what it means to be human and vulnerable. It night mean letting go of busyness or preoccupation that always keeps changing the subject. Or a hunger for power and control that longs to put us in charge of what is going on around us. A friend of mine, hoping to choose a meaningful and helpful Lenten fast, once gave up having the last word in conversations with her teenage son. I don't know about you, but Lent always looks a little different for me. I have moved through Lent with a giant and energetic to-do list of books, tasks, prayers and efforts to accomplish during those weeks. I have moved through Lent with little or no structure, just letting the season unfold. I have given up foods, taken on projects and committed to more prayer, worship and scripture reading. All of these Lents have been rich in their own way. 4
But at the heart of all of them, I think, was a desire to embark on a journey. A journey of making space for God. A journey of discovering the challenge and temptation of wilderness; a journey that pointed me toward choices that seemed more Christ-like. A journey that was individual and personal, but also knew the importance of community. Like my friends in Kennewick who had real wilderness adventures, Lent can gift us with perspective, insight and a deep knowledge that we depend on God. It stands before us as a rich opportunity that can be gritty and comforting at the same time. Here is a prayer from the New Zealand Prayer Book collection to launch us into Lent: God of the desert, as we follow Jesus into the unknown, may we recognize the tempter when he comes; Let it be your bread we eat, your world we serve and you alone we worship. Amen 5