Luke 4:1-13
I want to start today on Ash Wednesday. Marking Ash Wednesday with ashes and a reminder of our mortality isn’t deeply ingrained in our practice, nor is the idea of “giving something up” for Lent. I’m not fond of the idea of spending a season focused on guilt and inadequacy, which I know is an exaggeration of the theme but also present in many observations. But this Ash Wednesday in my annual crabbiness I read a bit by Diana Butler Bass that seemed more hopeful than usual, and I want to share it with you. Part of it follows:
“On this Ash Wednesday, my heart is broken and every shred of hope I once had is gone.
I’m not well. My soul is sick. I see nothing but greed, destruction, lying, inhumanity, and evil all around. If anyone tells me that I came from ash and will return to it, I may well laugh in their face. Or cry and never stop. I just hope I don’t hit the priest. Because — read the room, people — we’re standing in ash up to our knees. This is a brutal Ash Wednesday.
There. I said it.
“I’ve prayed so much in recent months that I can’t tell you how much I’ve prayed. Literally face on the ground sobbing prayer. I’ve taken cues from Anne Lamott’s famous dictum that there are three kinds of prayer — help, thanks, and wow — by occasionally yelling (I’m not kidding) “Help, help, help!” in a loud voice when we sit down for dinner…
In short, the last thing I want or need right now is Lent. I’m nearly Lent-ed out already. I’ve been Lenting for months. Honestly, I’ve got questions for God. Like: Why? Why is this happening? Why don’t you stop this? What kind of God would allow these amoral, corrupt men to purposefully hurt and destroy the good work, dignity, and lives of so many truly decent people? I’m making a lot of noise down here praying and fasting and you, God, don’t seem to be doing your part.”
Butler Bass goes on to describe that day’s scripture from Isaiah in which the people of Israel said essentially the same thing: God, we’re in a shit show down here and you don’t seem to be fixing it. She suggests that the prophet’s reply turned the focus on the people, asking what they were doing to help others rather than just fasting and calling out to God.
“Historian Amy Oden describes it thus, ‘The fasting acceptable to God is a daily fast from domination, blaming others, evil speech, self-satisfaction, entitlement and blindness to one’s privilege. The fast that God seeks calls for vigilance for justice and generosity day in and day out.’”
If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday. (Isaiah)
If you want the kind of world that matches the goodness of God, become the kind of world that matches the goodness of God.
I wanted to start with Butler Bass because I think the questions she’s asking and the questions the ancient people of Israel were asking, are the same questions Jesus is confronting in the story of his temptation. After he is baptized, Jesus goes on retreat for 40 days (which is the biblical way of saying “a long time”). He goes to the desert. That’s partly because he lived in a land surrounded by desert. Because the desert is always there nearby, it carries significance. The desert is a place of desolation and dryness, representing the dryness of despair and wandering. It’s a place of solitude, where you can focus without distraction. The desert is a place where you go to get ready for important things – like conquering the promised land under Joshua or beginning a world-changing ministry. Over the centuries the people were used to hearing the voice of God when they were in the desert.
Jesus had important questions he was wrestling with. His world was a mess. Rome was enforcing power through violence. Most people were hungry while a few grew richer every day. Religious leaders claimed the blessing of God while ignoring God’s justice and advancing their own interests. Things were broken and he wanted to fix them. Sound familiar? But how does a peasant from a village make a difference in the world? He needed clarity.
The devil in this story represents some of the options he had to consider. Jesus believed God wanted him to do something, but what was the ethical and effective way to do it? He had some power and influence already from his teaching and from knowing how to heal. Should he use it to influence the masses? After fasting, he was hungry and wanted bread. The people were hungry. He could organize a feeding mission. Most of those close to starvation were given grain for bread by Rome. He could provide bread, challenge Rome and get the people’s attention. They would love him for it. But his vision was about more than bread or popularity.
Should he challenge the power of Empire more directly? There were plenty of insurrectionists ready to form an army. Over the years there had been brief times when revolution had worked. Maybe it could work again. If he were Emperor, or even governor of Judea, he could make important changes to help everyone. But his vision was about more than military power.
Should he wrap himself in the cloak of religion to gain some protection? He had impressed some of the religious scholars in the temple. Maybe he should just preach and quote the prophets, changing some minds and giving people some comfort, but not rock the boat too much. It would be a slow process, but relatively safe and the people might feel better. But his vision was about more than soothing people with pious words and promises.
In the end Jesus becomes the teacher who brings hope to the peasants by sharing God’s vision for the world – justice for everyone, mercy for everyone, food and shelter for everyone, healing for everyone, peace for everyone. How does it happen? Love your neighbor. Love your enemy. Share your bread and your coat. Forgive. After considering all the ways he could become the leader of a new movement to reform the world, Jesus chose to put that movement in the hands of the people. If you want the world to be just and merciful, be just and merciful. If you want people to be fed, feed them. If you want people to be well, heal them. If you want the reign of God to come among you, live like it’s already here. He was reminding them of what the prophets had said for generations. Then he showed them how to do it, and two thousand years later, we’re still following his example.
I’ve been trying to figure out what Lent is about this year for months and I’m not much closer than when I started, so we’re going to have to figure it out together.
One part of it is about dryness and despair. We live in hard times and it’s therapeutic to say that out loud. This lent we’ll take some time to name what’s broken, what frightens us, to name those people who are being hurt by power right now. We’ll do that during our prayer time and we’ll light the prayer candles in the little bit of the desert Victoria has brought to us on our altar.
Another part of Lent is asking important questions. Jesus did that. When you’re not sure what to do next, it’s helpful to do nothing for a bit and focus on what matters. Each week I’ll give you a question you can think about if you choose. Or you can substitute a question that matters more to you. This is a good time for clarifying what we care about and what we can and can’t do. I’ll print the question in the bulletin, send them in the weekly email, and put them in the description of the livestream. Use them if they are helpful to you.
Finally, Lent is about resting in the presence of God. We’re pretty good at looking for the light of God around us. Let’s keep it up. Let’s celebrate the goodness we see in each other and in each day. Let’s watch for God sending us opportunities to do our part for a better world. Let’s listen for God’s words of encouragement in music and art and friends. When you have a suggestion for something else that would be helpful, let’s do that too. We’re making this up as we go. I think that’s what Jesus did as well. Start here, see what happens, trust God for the rest.