Matthew 3:13-4:11
March 1, 2020
As Jesus rose out of the water, feeling each droplet of water run down his face, his hair, his back. As he rose up and saw the sky torn asunder and saw the Spirit of God take the form of a dove and begin to descend to the place in the Jordan River that he was now standing. As he rose up and heard the voice of God arising from the depths of his soul and saying, "this is my beloved, on him my favor rests." As he saw the near speechless reaction of the crowd pointing at him and staring in awe, for a brief moment, he was able to dwell in that place, dwell in that time, dwell in the presence of the Holy and it was as if all time had slowed to just a trickle. Like his life had become a movie and the film was now passing frame-by-frame. And then, just as he had begun to wrap his mind around what had just happened, everything, shifted from a trickle to a gush, and the movie that was passing frame-by-frame now seemed to be moving at double speed, triple speed, and everything, John, the crowds, the water, the dove, the voice, the Spirit, God, all seemed to be bearing down on top of a singular point on his head. It was as if nothing had changed and everything had changed all in a single blink and what had been an otherwise normal day had now been tossed into chaos. If ever you wonder if Jesus was as truly human as he was truly divine, you need to look no further than the crescendo of this story and what will follow. Here is Jesus, we are told around age 30, surely somewhat settled in the life that he was leading, coming to the Jordan River because that is what Jews were doing at that time. Coming to the river because his cousin John is leading a movement of the faithful back to God. Coming to the river because there is something deep in his soul that is driving him to do so. And as he rises up and surveys this new earth, this new realm of God that is erupting all around him. He seems to be completely overwhelmed by the moment. And we can be sure that he is overwhelmed because the very next impulse in him is to run out to the wilderness around Nazareth to be by himself for a long time. And really, wouldn’t all of us seek that kind of solitude, that kind of silence, that kind of time to yourself to think if your whole being has not been shaken to its core? And it is at this moment that the new being that is arising in Jesus's soul, that has been uncovered and is now about to be imparted on the world, encounters the siren song of the old order of the world, the broken order, the sinful order.
Now, because Jesus had left so quickly, because he had become so full of the Holy Spirit, because he felt like he had to get away no matter what the cost, after some time, he realizes that in his haste, he hadn't taken any food with him. And isn't it just the way it is that we can all go a long time without eating but when we do and that first thought of eating passes over our minds, it becomes the dominant thought. Perhaps it is a relic of our pre-limbic brains from a time in which we acted as biological creatures whose chief mission in life was to do whatever it was that we had to to survive. Because we see that just as Jesus is starting to make some peace with the new trajectory that his life has taken, his physical needs begin to crop up and immediately he is tempted to create food, where before there was none. To use his newfound powers, his newly discovered connection to God, to force reality to bend to his will. And somewhere in the midst of that temptation, as he sat on the precipice of being able to satiate his hunger with the simple creation of bread, the darkness, some say Satan, that profound sinfulness that too often infests the whole of the world began to echo in Jesus’s mind. And because, as we all know, the temptation towards the darkness, towards selfishness, towards relying on our own powers while lacking faith that God will provide for our every need, is so strong, we see that those thoughts, that temptation, that singular focus on his physical hunger come back to him again and again until all Jesus can think about is the warmth, the smell, the taste of fresh bread melting in his mouth and just as he inches towards succumbing to the temptation, the spirit that burns in his soul roars at the darkness as from his mouth erupts at the darkness and at himself, "scripture has it, we don't live on bread alone." Perhaps he had to remind himself of this. Perhaps he offered a guttural rebuke to the darkness that was gathering all around him, but just as he did, the darkness dissipated and he felt that gnawing in the pit of his stomach for anything that resembled food disappear as well.
Was his walking on the rocky path that led to the bottom of the mountain and tripped? Was he picking up whatever stuff that he brought with him and pricked his finger on a bramble that sat just next to his pack? Did he just have the gathering awareness that to live a life for God was going to inevitably bring pain and suffering to himself and his person? Whatever it was, that fear, that temptation took hold of him again. How did he know that God would be there to take care of him when all the world cast their stones at him, and beat him, and attempted to throw him from the top of the synagogue. How could he be sure that this feeling that he had, this power that was rising up in him, this feeling of intimate connection to God wasn't all in his head. Had he imagined the dove? Had he imagined that voice? Was he really God's beloved and would God take care of him in his times of greatest need and struggle? And just like that, once again, the darkness surrounded him, and was more cunning, more insistent, than before. And it rang out in a single question, are you sure? Are you sure that God will care for you? Are you sure that God will hold you up when those in power, those that you are decrying as hypocrites and only seeking their own wealth and standing, when those people begin to plot against you, hurt you, seek to end you? Are you willing to put your whole faith in God without having put that God to the test? And in his mind's eye, Jesus could see the Temple once again. The symbol of the Jewish religion, the traditional home of God. He could see the very top of it, towering above all the other buildings. He could see all those people down at the bottom scurrying in and out of the temple in the midst of prayers and suddenly he wasn't so sure. If he was going to dedicate his life to God, to the realm of God, to following God wherever God’s spirit led him, if he was going to do all this, did he really not want to make sure that God was going to take care of him. And the darkness, sensing the opportunity to derail the mission of Jesus before it even began recited a bit of scripture to him. ‘God will tell the angels to take care of you; With their hands they’ll support you, that you may never stumble on a stone.’ ” It was right there in black and white, so to speak, the word of God for the people of God, the divine decree that God's angels would protect him, that he would never even stumble on the path of his mission in the world. And to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was all true, all Jesus had to do was take a single step off the edge of the Temple. He inched forward and looked down again at all of God's children moving back and forth. He took a deep breath and began to lift the weight off his right foot as one does when they are about to take a step, when a feeling, a voice, a power came exploding out of him and once again he was back on that mountain, back in the moment, and he screamed into the darkness, “it also says, ‘do not put God to the test.’ ” And a sense of calm and relief washed over him and in the West he could see the sun beginning to make its descent down past the mountains that served as the backdrop of his vista. And he continued his preparations to return home. And then it happened.
And maybe it was that Jesus thought it was done at that point. He had tamed his deepest physical desire for life and for sustenance. He had placed his trust in God to hold him always. Perhaps at this point in his silence and relief he looked out over the edge of the cliff that he was sitting on and surveyed the area. Some distance away he could see the smoke arising from cooking fires in the small villages that dotted the landscape that was unfolding before him. In his mind he looked out even further still to Jerusalem, the holy city, to the temple where he had taught the elders as a child. Further still he thought of the magnificence of Rome and all the power it possessed, influence over much of the known world. Until, bit-by-bit, he became aware of the opportunities offered him by this heretofore unknown power. When he got back down he would begin to gather followers, to tell them about the Holy Realm of God that was arising all around him, and yet, he knows that many of those followers still looked to God to provide a ruler that would take on the mighty Roman Empire, that would return the seat of power to Jerusalem, that would restore the Davidic monarchical line of which he was a member. And slowly it dawned on him. He could be the one that raised up an army to challenge the empire. He could be the one that would march across the globe with his armies and his Divine power. He could walk right up to the Caesar's throne and displace him and place the laurel atop his own head and then he would be ruler of the world and all the nations would bow down before him. And before he knew it, he was surrounded once again by the darkness, by the temptation to take all the power of God and secure for himself earthly power and prestige. In his own mind, he could justify it to himself. He was protecting his people, his nation, Israel. With the defeat of the Romans he could protect the whole of the known world and become an earthly ruler like Xerxes or Sargon, and the darkness continued to tear at his very being, with the image of King Jesus the great, ruler of all the world. It was so easy. All he had to do is allow the darkness to wash over him. The darkness that spoke to him words that demanded that he give up his allegiance to God and a sure life of pain and oddity. That he walk away from a life that would be ransomed for the salvation of all. And just as he was about to relinquish control, to allow the darkness to move through him as it moved through the rest of the world until from the depths of his soul, like a voice that was both his own and like nothing he had ever heard before, he screamed out to himself, to the darkness, to the whole of creation, ”‘You will worship the most high God; God alone will you adore.” And just like that, the darkness dissipated a final time and Jesus could see the sun setting behind the mountains to the west, could see the cook fires sparking the darkness just down past the mountain, could see all of God's world, God's realm erupting before him and he knew and he believed and he left, ready to change the course of human history, forever.
You know, we come to this season of preparation about the same time each year and it is difficult, if not impossible, to know just what to do with such a period of reflection as this. We don’t always know what to do with time when it is given to us to really and truly consider our relationship with God and with one another, consider the path that our savior walked, think our interactions with the God’s larger creation. Sometimes we feel the urge to make sweeping changes, to give up something for a time that we think will open up the space for us to sense the presence of God in our lives in real and life-altering ways, to deny fleshly needs in order that the spirit that is in each of us might shine all the brighter and because that is what we know, that is what we have always done, we simply switch our minds over to Lenten time and we give up chocolate, or meat, or gossip, or booze, and we live our lives as if the hole that these things have left will soon be filled by the living Christ and there is nothing wrong with those sorts of practices—there is a reason why they have been around for close to 2,000 years in one form or another and yet. And yet, we encounter the story of Jesus in the wilderness and we see, maybe for the first time, that both spirit and struggle occur in each moment, not in blocks of 40 days, not in stretches of time to be defeated and never to arise again, not in neat and tidy moments in which one’s bodily needs or lust for power or desire for security cause the abandonment of everything we believe about God and God’s relationship to the whole of the world. Rather, it arises each moment, each instant, each second, like the twin angel and demon sitting on our shoulders moving us back and forth with the spirit and with the darkness. We realize that we are called to fight back the darkness in each moment that the light of the living Christ might shine all the brighter for a darkened world. We realize that it is on us to do the work of the spirit and to follow her wherever she goes. And all this seems hard. And all this seems overwhelming in the midst of it. And all this seems like a burden too difficult to carry and then we walk in here and see that the great feast of heaven has been set in our presence. That it is here to draw us into a singular community of the faithful both here and throughout history. That it is here to give us sustenance for the journey and hope and courage for the living of this day and the next and a chance to dream dreams and have visions, to see the new heaven and the new earth coming to us, to live and exist among mortals, to see that eventually all things are made new and whole and holy and that we are blessed to be a part of that work. To bring sight to the blind and release to the captives. To set the prisoner free and declare the year of God’s favor for all people. We open our mouths and let the gospel of Jesus Christ cover the land and all the people. We come to the table and we are made one with all people and all countries. One faith, one spirit, one cosmos, one God, creator, redeemer, and sustainer of all. We come to this table and we are welcomed back home again and again and again. So let us prepare ourselves to encounter the next moment alive in the spirt, alive in Christ, grounded in God, and moving into a world that has been redeemed back to God. Now and forevermore. Even to the end of the age. Amen.
Image: Duccio, The Temptation of Christ on the Mountain, 1308-11