Scriptures: Deuteronomy 26:1-11; Psalm
91:1-2, 9-16
Romans 10:8-13, Luke 4:1-13
This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, and today is the
first Sunday in Lent. Lent is that
forty-day season of self-examination and repentance, which the church observes
to remember both Jesus’ forty days of temptation in the wilderness, and also
the Israelites’ forty years in the wilderness while on their way to the
promised land. Our readings from
Deuteronomy and from Luke’s gospel remind us of both of these periods of
testing, the Israelites’ forty years in the wilderness and Jesus’ forty days in
the wilderness.
We remember that Jesus went to the wilderness immediately
after his baptism, when he saw the spirit descend on him as a dove, and heard
the voice from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well
pleased.” We’re told that, filled with
the Spirit, Jesus went into the wilderness for forty days, during which time he
ate nothing. The temptations began by referring
to those words from heaven calling Jesus God’s son, and bringing them into
question. “If you are the Son of God,
tell this stone to become bread,” the devil suggested. “If you are the Son of God.” If.
Surprisingly, the devil did not tempt Jesus to do anything
overtly evil. He didn’t, for example,
try to tempt Jesus to strike the Roman leaders or the temple leadership dead –
even though they would later kill him. No,
Jesus was tempted to take actions that sounded plausible, even reasonable. We’re told Jesus hadn’t eaten in forty
days. Why shouldn’t he use his
miraculous powers to satisfy his hunger?
He was tempted to attain political power – all the kingdoms of the earth
– and wouldn’t political power be helpful in compelling people to follow God? And a spectacle such as throwing himself off
the temple so that God could catch him – wouldn’t that get people’s attention,
draw people in so they could hear his message. Each of these sounded harmless, even
reasonable – but giving in to any of these temptations would have distorted and
limited Jesus’ ministry, making it about meeting his own needs rather than
those of others, about political power instead of the reign of God, about
showmanship and spectacle rather than substance. Many political and religious
leaders have lost their way by giving in to similar temptations. Put another way, instead of being our Savior,
Jesus was tempted to be a glutton, a political hack, a carnival barker – and
none of these are places from which Jesus could have accomplished the mission
to which God had called him.
How did Jesus resist these temptations? Of course we notice that Jesus quoted
Scripture in response to each temptation, telling the devil, in turn, “Man does
not live by bread alone”, “You shall worship the Lord your God and him only
shall you serve”, and “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” But remember that the devil also quoted
Scripture – in fact, the devil quoted from Psalm 91, our Psalm for the
day. In the devil’s mouth, Psalm 91, a
beautiful hymn of praise for God’s protection,
becomes something to be brought into question and tested. Both Jesus and the devil quoted Scripture,
but for very different purposes. And to
this day, religious and political leaders appeal to Scripture for very
different purposes. Some use Scripture
to coerce and dominate, while others use Scripture to free, to liberate. So
what is important is not whether Scripture is quoted – anyone can quote
Scripture to support or oppose almost any purpose. What’s important is discerning the spirit and
purpose for which Scripture is quoted.
Ultimately, Jesus used Scripture in a way that reminded him
of who God is, and who he was. That
voice from heaven at his baptism, calling him “beloved Son”, the echoes of that
voice in Jesus’ mind, called Jesus back from following temptation. And remembering – remembering who we are and
whose we are, and who God is – will keep us from going down the paths of
temptation, the paths of self-destruction and destruction of others.
It was for the similar purposes of Israel’s remembering their
own story that our Old Testament passage was written. Moses, looking ahead to the time when Israel
would enter the promised land, said that they should offer some of the first
fruits of the land, and as they made their offering, they were to recite these
words,
“A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he
went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he
became a great nation, mighty and populous. 6 When the
Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, 7 we
cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our
voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. 8 The
Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm,
with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; 9 and
he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk
and honey. 10 “
The Israelites were to recite this so that
they would remember their story, so that they would remember where they had
come from, and all that God had done for them.
Our memories, our stories, are powerful. Stories can be used to instill fear or
inspire hope. Our national stories can
be used to instruct or to deceive, to communicate truth or lies. George Orwell, in his novel 1984, wrote that
“Who controls the past, controls the future.
Who controls the present, controls the past.” That is to say, while accurate memory can be
used to instruct, totalitarian societies have distorted history, rewritten
history, created revisionist history, in order to manipulate and dominate their
populations, to make the people forget who they were. Indeed, rewriting history, erasing true
memories, instilling false memories, is a tactic used over and over again by
political and religious leaders to dominate the masses. Tim Snyder, in his recent book “On Tyranny,”
suggests that those in authoritarian societies should keep journals to document
the actions of the regime and the resulting changes in society as they happen, in
real time, in order to guard against revisionist history and manipulation of
memory.
Our memories, our stories, are powerful. Our personal stories, the blessings we’ve
experienced and the traumas we’ve endured, shape and form our character, and
can deform our character if we let them.
Our memories
can make us bitter, or can make us better, depending how we respond to
them. The memories of struggle and trauma can be
open wounds or badges of recovery, depending on whether the pain from these
struggles is transmitted as pain or has been transformed into healing for
others.
The
church, too, has stories, has memories. Many
of them are recorded in the New Testament; others are recorded in histories of
the church since then. And the church
has ways of helping its members remember who they are in God’s presence. Our longtime members during confirmation
class memorized portions of the Heidelberg Catechism, a series of questions and
answers about God, faith, the church, and other topics. Other faith traditions have catechisms as
well – many Roman Catholics were instructed in the faith using the Baltimore
Catechism, and the Westminster Catechism was used to communicate the faith to
Presbyterians. These catechisms start
from different places in communicating the faith. For example, the first three questions of the
Baltimore Catechism are, “Who made us?” “Who is God?”, and “Why did God make
us?” The Westminster Shorter Catechism
begins with the question, “What is the chief end of man?”, to which the answer
is, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” So these two catechisms start from a place of
asking “Who is God and why are we here?”
The Heidelberg Catechism starts at a different place. Our longtime members may remember that the
first question of the Heidelberg Catechism is, “What is your only comfort, in
life and in death?” And the answer is, “That
I belong - body and soul, in life and in
death - not to myself, but to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ, who at the cost
of his own blood has fully paid for all my sins and has completely freed me
from the dominion of the devil, that he protects me so well that without the
will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that
everything must fit his purpose for my
salvation. Therefore, by the Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life,
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.” It’s a long answer, but boiled down – “What
is our only comfort, in life and in death?
Our only comfort is that we belong…..that we belong to God who
loves us.” So while the other catechisms
raise questions about our purpose in life, the Heidelberg Catechism begins by
providing comfort and a sense of belonging, assuring us of God’s
protection. There’s a United Church of Christ story about the Heidelberg Catechism. In the early 1970’s, Rev Robert Moss was president and general minister of the UCC, with a long and rich life of ministry, ecumenical outreach, and advocacy for social justice behind him. He had grown up in the German Reformed church prior to its merger into the UCC, as our longtime members did as well. In 1976, Bob Moss lay in a hospital bed, dying of cancer, at age 54. Bob’s pastor walked into his hospital room with an old copy of the Heidelberg Catechism, and the first thing he said to Bob Moss was, “What is your only comfort, in life and in death?” Without missing a beat, Rev Moss responded, “That I belong, body and soul, in life and in death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.”[1] He remembered. Bob Moss had memorized those words decades before, and that memory sustained him and, yes, comforted him on his deathbed, and helped him enter eternal life in peace.
This season of Lent helps us to remember who we are, and who God is. On Ash Wednesday, we are told, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We remember the fragility of this life, remember our own mortality. At the same time, we remember the greatness of God and the grace of God, who loved us so much that he sent Jesus to save us.
Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Yes, remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return indeed. Remember also that you are God’s beloved, precious in God’s sight, so much loved that not a hair can fall from our head without God’s notice. Remember who you are. And may that memory provide comfort through your darkest nights, and purpose for your living. Amen.
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