Penelope Bridges
First Sunday in Lent
We read about the temptations of Jesus every year at this time, hearing from each of the first three Gospels in turn. As we read Luke’s account of the three temptations and Jesus’ rebuttal of each, it’s such a familiar text that we skim over it; it seems like it’s easy for Jesus to just say no to the devil. But the nature of temptation is that it isn’t easy to resist. After all, if it’s easy, it’s not really tempting, is it? The temptations each of us experiences are tailor made to be the things we most want to give in to. You might even say that we create our own temptations.
Jesus is in the wilderness. Living in southern California, we might conjure up an image of the desert familiar to us, with low scrub and cactus. But I have been to the Judean desert, and it is pure desert, nothing but sand as far as the eye can see. In a landscape that is so empty, your mind starts to create images such as a mirage of an oasis or water, the thing that you most long to see. That can happen in a physical wilderness or in an emotional one, the mental mirages being the imagined presence of a lost loved one, or that moment as you are waking up when you think everything is normal and good, before reality sets in.
When have you spent time in a wilderness? After a death or the end of a relationship; or in the midst of a mental or physical health crisis; or after the world screeched to a halt five years ago this week? What were your temptations? Those first weeks of lockdown certainly felt like a wilderness time. And the current political crisis in this country feels like wilderness time.
Where is the right road? Who will lead us out of fear, anger and confusion, back to a measure of peace, stability, and confidence in our elected officials? Our journey of faith through the wilderness of Lent couldn’t have come at a better time, for this is a path we have taken before; we know what lies at the end of this journey, we know that on the other side of the forty days, of Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Good Friday, lies the day of resurrection, the renewal of life and hope. That is no mirage; that is God’s promise to us.
Jesus has just been baptized and is filled with the Holy Spirit. He is ready for this time of deprivation and testing. He has heard God’s declaration, “This is my beloved Son,” and he is ready to take up his vocation. So he heads off alone on retreat, to encounter whatever he might find out there, following the tradition of his people, to seek a future in the wilderness. We are told that Jesus is fasting, eating nothing at all: the weakness of hunger will add to the disorientation that he feels in this seemingly infinite wasteland. And of course, when he reaches his lowest ebb, the devil comes looking for him.
And here come the temptations. Something to eat, infinite power, a test of God’s love. It would be so easy to say yes. Yes, I am hungry: feed me now. Yes, I am powerless: let me set the world to rights. Yes, I need to know that God really loves me, like I just heard in my baptism: let’s test that hypothesis. It’s got to be a struggle, even for Jesus.
But Jesus can fall back on the Scripture that has deeply formed him. The answers come to him as a reflex, in a moment when he might not be able to formulate them for himself. And these answers will frame all of his future ministry. If he says yes to any one of the temptations, he will not be able to continue his mission, to live out his vocation as Messiah, for he will have failed to trust fully in God. Only by depending on God alone will he be able to accomplish what he has been called to do. But in the responses that he gives, he demonstrates that he is indeed God’s chosen one, that he does in fact have what it takes to live up to his name, Jesus or Yeshua, the one who saves.
What do we learn from this story of the temptation of Jesus? We learn that even God’s most beloved had to go through this test; that the deep formation within God’s chosen people equipped Jesus with the means to resist; that it was trust in God’s promises that gave Jesus the strength to reject the seductive suggestions of the evil one. And by extension we learn that it is when we think we are doing well, God’s beloved, filled with the Spirit, that we must be most vigilant, even as people of strong faith, for as a former spiritual director used to tell me, the devil gets extra busy when he senses that we are growing stronger in faith.
This season of Lent gives us an opportunity to deepen our faith. When things are going well in our world, sometimes we might forget that like any other relationship, we need to work on our relationship with God. But when disaster strikes, we find that we want to have God on our side. The old soldier’s saying is, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” When I got a message on my phone last month, alerting me to a wildfire approaching my neighborhood, I found myself praying frantically as I navigated traffic to reach home and rescue my cats. My prayers were answered, as in the end the fire was stopped before it reached my street.
What will our temptations be this Lent? I suspect that for many of us, one temptation will be to sink as low as those we call our enemies; those whom we perceive to be destroying the social safety nets and government structures that we rely on. It is very hard to see God’s hand at work in the current climate of fear, intimidation, and uncertainty. But Jesus shows us the way to lean into God’s love, despite current realities, despite hunger and thirst, despite aching grief and outrage, despite the frustration of feeling powerless.
God is in charge, and when we are in the wilderness, the best thing we can do is to hold fast to God’s promises and keep on keeping on, trusting that God will find a way, trusting that the current situation will change, trusting in that unconditional love. In the end, Lent is about renewing our trust in God’s love and in the promise of eternal life in God through Christ. And that’s a promise that we can depend on.
