Lent I

Deuteronomy, 26:1-11
Romans, 10:5-13
Luke, 4:1-13

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

MY IMPRESSION is that fewer and fewer people know what the word ‘parish’ means. I think that people, even Episcopalians and Roman Catholics, tend to think of it as quaint and antiquated.

A few years ago, we changed our letterhead from ‘The Church of the Ascension and Saint Agnes’ – what a mouthful that is! – to ‘Ascension and Saint Agnes Parish.’ It saves a couple of syllables, but I now regret that it may be less accessible or meaningful to people we are here to serve, to people outside our doors.

That’s too bad because ‘parish’ is an excellent word. It comes from the Greek paroikos, meaning a stranger, a foreigner, a resident alien.1 A paroikia suggests a place of exile, or journeying in a foreign land. The early Christians understood themselves as journeying on earth on their way to their true, heavenly home with God. A parish is a gathering of those alienated by the world, those on a journey to God. A parish is a home of welcome and hospitality for the stranger, the overlooked, the scorned.

Today’s Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy reminds Israel that her ancestors were foreigners and outcasts. The King James Version translates the Hebrew as “a Syrian ready to perish was my father.” Contemporary versions often translate it as “a wandering Aramean.” ‘Aramean’ is an epithet referring to Abraham or Jacob, both of whom received welcome and assistance in foreign land, indeed both of whom were saved from death by foreigners.

The passage from Deuteronomy is set just as Israel is about to complete forty years of wandering in the wilderness and is poised to enter to Promised Land, the land of milk and honey. In today’s gospel, Jesus has gone into the wilderness to identify himself with Israel, with foreigners and strangers, with the poor and cut-off. Israel had been tempted in the wilderness, and succumbed, and now Jesus is tempted in the wilderness.

In writing about the temptations, Pope Benedict makes two important points about the wilderness. First, he writes, “the desert is a place of silence, of solitude. It is the absence of the exchanges of daily life, its noise and superficiality. . . .”2 Without silence and solitude, we can’t pray. We can’t focus on the big, essential questions of life, the questions that really matter: Who am I? Who are you? Why are we here? What does God want me to do with my life? The world distracts us so we don’t pay attention to those big questions. The world is absorbed in the petty, the inane, the absurd. I can’t imagine any reason any one should care about Britney’s hair cut. That’s significant? That’s news? People care about that? Britney’s saner than everyone reporting on her and reading about her.

Point two about the wilderness. Pope Benedict writes, “the desert is also the place of death: there is no water there, the basic element for life. And so this place, with its harsh burning light, appears to be the extreme opposite of life, a dangerous threatening waste.”(3) The desert destroys life, and so it’s the natural dwelling place for Satan, and Satan tempts Jesus to abandon that which gives life.

The temptations come at the beginning of Jesus ministry. He has to figure out and choose between a ministry shaped by his Father or that by Satan. How does God respond to human need?

First, why shouldn’t Jesus turn stones into bread? Millions of people hunger. What we keep as a Lenten fast would be a feast for many, if not most, people. If he turned stones into bread, he could feed the world. Second, why shouldn’t Jesus submit to the devil if in exchange he gets power over all the world? As ruler of the world, Jesus could do enormous good. He could release the oppressed and care for the suffering. There would be justice. Third, why shouldn’t Jesus cast himself down from the pinnacle of the Temple and be saved by an angel? A spectacular act would prove his identity. It might help people believe that he is the Messiah.

What Satan offers is not all bad. If the temptations were all bad, they wouldn’t be tempting. Satan’s proposals are temptations because they suggest there can be redemption without God. They are temptations to solve problems relying upon our own ability, instead of God. They are temptations to rely upon control, power, competence – to be master over all, to be important in the eyes of the world. It’s the same temptation as in Eden – to make ourselves like God. Jesus did not count equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant and humbled himself. (Phil 2:6,7)

Stones made into bread would enormously benefit humanity, but it would mislead us as well. We do not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. Satan wants us to think that all that matters is the material world, that our hunger for truth and meaning, our hunger for spiritual sustenance is an illusion. The real bread we need is the body of Christ. We need Spirit and matter, not matter alone.

The temptation is to think that God is not necessary. Our temptation is to think that spiritual growth is less important than economic growth, that spiritual ability is less important than technical ability, that spiritual realities are less important than material realities.4 The world denies that practical questions require spiritual answers. The truth is, of course, that the world doesn’t lack material goods. We don’t need to turn stones into bread. We could feed everyone on the planet. Rather, we lack the spiritual capacities of justice, generosity, compassion, and peace. We lack the spiritual capacities of hospitality and love for the stranger, the foreigner. We need spiritual growth to feed the planet.

Lent reminds us that the world’s values are a mess, and we can’t live by them. The world encourages us to take care of ourselves, to expand our control, to work harder, to be successful, but that doesn’t make life better. Henri Nouwen writes, “While efficiency and control are the great aspirations of our society, the loneliness, isolation, lack of friendship and intimacy, broken relationships, boredom, feelings of emptiness and depression, and a deep sense of uselessness fill the hearts of millions of people in our success-oriented world.”5

Nouwen identifies a deep anguish behind the glitter of success. It is a cry: “Is there anybody who loves me? . . . Is there anybody who can hold me and give me a sense of belonging?”6 Yes, there is. It’s Jesus Christ. It’s why we’re Christians. What we really need is not more power and control, but more understanding of God’s love for us.

Jesus overcame temptation because he was certain of God’s love for him. He had spent forty days, a Lent, in the wilderness alone. Forty days of prayer. To know God’s love for us, to have spiritual growth, nothing is more important than prayer.

If we want to keep a holy Lent, if we want to know God’s love for us, we have to make some silence in our lives. We have to sit in his presence. Prayer is allowing God to possess us, being aware of his presence in us and about us. Say your prayers – pray for yourself; make intercession for others; ask forgiveness for sins; and especially give thanks for blessings.

And we can go deeper – sit in silence, make room for quiet, even if only for five or ten minutes a day. In the most profound prayer, words are hardly necessary. Rather, we avoid all thoughts and distractions. We can’t do that very well, but there’s no need to worry. Sitting in silent prayer will likely feel like a waste of time. It will not feel productive and efficient. It’s not thrilling or particularly satisfying in itself . It’s not a dramatic, spectacular religious experience – to the contrary. But over time, over months, over years, it is the surest way I know to know the love of God, the surest way to build a relationship with God.

Sister Wendy Beckett became a popular art critic. I think she’s magnificent, and so I couldn’t wait to read her new book about prayer. She writes:

Prayer does not depend upon your natural capacity. What does depend upon your natural capacity is the kind of prayer, because it will be your prayer. But prayer itself is as simple as conversation between friends. No one would dare write a book on how husband and wife are to talk to each other – what topics are appropriate, what tone should be used, because obviously every marriage is different and goes through phases. One of the responsibilities of any close relationship is that each has to take seriously their need to talk, share, discuss and love.... In prayer the relationship is between God and ourselves....

The essential act of prayer is to stand unprotected before God. What will God do? He will take possession of us.7

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

1. Heidi Neumark, ‘Living by the Word: Aliens Welcome,’ The Christian Century, February 6, 2007, p. 17.

2. Pope Benedict XVI, Journey to Easter, Crossroads Publishing Co. (1987), p. 16.

3. Ibid., p. 17.

4. Ibid., p. 23

5. Henri J. M. Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus, Crossroads Publishing Co. (1989), p. 33.

6. Ibid., pp. 34-35.

7. Sister Wendy Beckett, Sister Wendy on Prayer, Continuum (2006), p. 7-8.