First Sunday in Lent: February 13, 2004.

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

Psalm 32

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

First Reading

In this older of the two creation accounts Yahweh settles the human creature in a paradisiacal garden where there is provided not only everything needed for physical life but also a place and purpose within the created order: "to till it and keep it." The command to avoid the tree of the knowledge of good and evil speaks to a privilege that God preserves for the divine. The knowledge, which the tree ascribes, is not omniscience, which fallen creatures certainly do not possess. Neither is it moral discrimination, which, as sentient beings, humankind possessed already prior to the fall. Rather, it is "the power of deciding for himself what is good and what is evil and of acting accordingly" (The New Jerusalem Bible, ed. Henry Wansborough [Doubleday, 1973]). To disobey God and eat of the tree stakes a human "claim to complete moral independence by which man refused to recognize his status as a created being" (ibid.). There is a drastic consequence for such behavior: death (2:17) or at least the "pain of death" (3:3).

The serpent that beguiles the woman into eating the fruit is generally interpreted to be an embodiment of all the forces that oppose both God and humankind, although a specific correlation between the serpent and Satan does not appear until the later Old Testament writings and throughout Christian tradition. It is a logical conclusion to draw, however. The serpent first tests how the woman understands God's command, then challenges that understanding with an appeal that transcends the limits of creature-hood: "You will be like gods." A subtle simile that yet makes no substantive promise for change in the human condition is enough justification for disobedience. Subsequent to eating and sharing the fruit, the man and woman find themselves aware of the vulnerability of their condition and, in the first consequence of their sin, work to hide themselves from each other and from God.

Although routinely included in lists of the seven penitential psalms, Psalm 32 is also considered a psalm of thanksgiving, and indeed, in some circles considered more a lesson in the practice of penitence than an actual psalm by form. Its structure opens with a rehearsal of the benefits of God's forgiveness. Verse 2 is quoted by Paul in Romans 4:6-8 as support for his argument that God credits righteousness solely on the basis of faith. This is followed by a description of the burden of guilt, the power of confession, and the resultant relief that God's mercy brings. The psalm closes with an extended testimony to those who would learn from the psalmist's experience. As a response to the Genesis reading, it reasserts the primacy of trust in God versus the willful disobedience of humankind.

The logic by which Paul parallels Adam and Christ is central to the notion of original sin as developed by Augustine and others. But it is hardly the primary focus of these verses (5:12-19). Instead, the Genesis text of temptation and fall and the Gospel texts of temptation and triumph form the background for Paul's commentary. By postulating death as the result of the sin of Adam, the apostle argues for the universality of sin by evidence of the universality of death. All since Adam have died; therefore sin has reigned in all since Adam, and further, all in sin and death are cut off from God. Conversely, the resurrection of Jesus is evidence of the triumph of perfect obedience to God (something that Adam could not accomplish) and results in life and righteousness before God. Christ has undone what Adam did, and the choice for humanity could not be starker.

Christ's victory, however, is not yet clearly evident. So the role of faith is to sustain those who believe that what God is accomplishing by grace in Christ Jesus is sufficient and will be revealed in the final day.

The spirit of God, which guided the prophets and leaders of Israel, takes Jesus into the wilderness. Fasting as a cleansing for the receiving of God's word and as a sign of devotion to God's demands is a comprehensible discipline within first-century Jewish practice. There is also a parallel for this with Moses (Exod 34:28). Israel's own forty-year sojourn is clearly in Matthew's mind as he describes the time frame for Jesus' experience. So, too, are Israel's struggles with obedience to God. Like his ancestors, Jesus faces hunger and the temptation to seek sustenance apart from God. Jesus is lured to substitute the acclaim of religious spectacle for humility and true devotion. Finally, Jesus is transported to that place from which all the nations of the world can be seen (another Moses parallel to Deut 34:1-4?) and promised, albeit by the father of lies, lordship over all the kingdoms of the earth in exchange for allegiance. In each case, Jesus (with Moses still seeming to look over his shoulder) dismisses the devil's empty promises with the words of Deuteronomy. But more: Jesus' contentions with the devil make plain the kind of messiah he will be ... one not molded by the usual notions of power but whose true authority resides in a stead-fast focus on the will of God.

An aside: The fact that the devil also knows the scriptures should give us some cause for concern over the popular bibliolatry of our age.

It is noted that, in Matthew's rendering of this passage, the devil's temptations seem to work in a widening sphere of influence, focused initially on Jesus' personal needs, expanding to his place within the faith of Israel, and extending finally to the boundaries of the created order. Finally, with the temptations finished (no mention of a later "opportune time" as in Luke), Jesus is attended by angels, perhaps as messengers of God's mercy upon the Son of God.

Pastoral Reflection

At the local superstore where we do most of our shopping, I can pretty much guarantee that by this first week of Lent the Easter candy will be widely available. That's welcome news for me. I just love those little foil-wrapped dark chocolate eggs. In fact, it's the best time to buy before the selection gets all picked over. Never mind that it's the first Sunday in the Lenten season. It's the perfect time to satisfy my sweet tooth. Or could there be a reason to hold off bringing this stuff home? Could it be valuable to deprive myself of even something as small as a chocolate egg?

In the wilderness, Satan confronts Jesus. He sets forth a number of proposals, things for Jesus to consider here at the outset of his ministry. Notice that not only does everything Satan ask have a religious connotation; everything Satan proposes is "good." Bread, after all, is good. Think of the impact on world hunger if we had the capacity to turn stones into bread. Satan's suggestion that Jesus throw himself down from the pinnacle of the temple is weird, sure, but still might be helpful. Wouldn't our witness in the world be easier if we had some irrefutable, visible, undeniable evidence to bring before those who demand to be dazzled? And isn't political power--the power to force social change, to enforce the ethical demands of the kingdom--a good thing?

The reason it makes so much sense to us (at least at first blush) is that we are a pragmatic, utilitarian people. If you are the Son of God, Jesus, turn these stones into bread, give us a sense of inner peace, help us make it through the week, keep my children chaste and pure, fix my marriage, help me with my financial problems, unwrap these little chocolate eggs ... and then we will worship you.

And Jesus said, "No." (Thank you, Jesus.)

When the Lord quotes scripture to the devil, he quotes from Deuteronomy, the book of Israel's laws, the Ten Commandments for everyday life. Here's a clue: This God has expectations of us. Demands. We believe that this God cares about us, that this God does meet our needs. Yet we also believe that this God changes our needs, gives us a perspective on life and what is truly important that we would not have if we were not serving this God. Which means that the life to which we are called as Christians is a lifetime spent learning to pay attention, learning to ask "What does God want from me?" The answers we gain may lead us to be faithful in ways that we had not considered, to be God's people after a fashion that doesn't start with me first.

We know, of course, where this temptation story leads, and it is not to the fulfillment of Jesus' every desire, not in spectacular success. It leads to the cross, with Jesus doing what he did out there in the wilderness--commending himself and his life into the Father's hands.

And where else would we go? Satan's promises of practical power, in the end, all fade away to nothing precisely because they are built not on eternal things but on passing human fancies. Like Christ, we are called to lay aside our personal agendas in favor of what God has in mind for the world, and to lay aside our way of doing things in order to walk God's way--the way of the cross, a way that recognizes the reality of our human frailty and sinfulness but does not abandon us there.

Jesus' rebuke of the devil in the wilderness is a recognition that there are no shortcuts to eternity. There is no easy, painless way to accomplish God's kingdom work. Rather, Jesus is called to walk fully in the human experience of life and death in order to redeem those things for God's purposes. And we are called to follow, to have faith that where Christ has gone to redeem and restore, we go now to live. We don't have to leap from one candy bowl to the next in order to feel good. Rather, we can listen for God's will, walk the walk of Jesus' own self-giving love, and be secure in the knowledge of the presence of God's holy and guiding Spirit with us every step of the way. Even in the wilderness. DLN