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February 22, 2015

1st Sunday in Lent
Psalm 25:1-8
Mark 1: 9-15

In todays Gospel, we hear Marks very brief account of Christs temptations - his 40
days in the wilderness. Matthew and Luke expand the story, recounting a confrontational
dialogue in which Jesus resists and overcomes Satans wiles. I prefer the way Mark tells
the story, allowing us more freedom, more room for our imagination in taking in and
digesting what its all about. In Mark, theres no citation of scripture, no proof texting . . .
no specification, even, of exactly what temptations are put before Jesus for him to resist.
They could be anything. All were given is a portrait of Jesus with the wild beasts in the
wilderness, tempted by the personification of evil - meaning, perhaps, his own inner
demons . . . his fears, his ambitions, his uncertainty. And then were told the angels
waited on him.
Im confident that no one here is a stranger to temptation. Here in Lent, many of us
ritualize that fact of life in our commitment to give something up until Easter. Almost
always, we choose something that we might do well to give up even longer, perhaps
forever . . . something that if not clearly bad for us like, say, cigarettes or, in some
instances, alcohol or dessert or TV, then something intended to open new vistas for us a new commitment, perhaps, a sacrifice of time and effort.
Why do we do this? Is it to keep Jesus in the forefront of our minds . . . his struggle in
the wilderness, his purity perhaps or his sanctity, his life of suffering and ultimate
sacrifice on the cross? I imagine wed love for that to be a part of it, but Im guessing
that most of yall are like me and end up a whole lot less elevated in your Lenten
pursuits, less Christly-minded and more focused on avoiding something bad or doing
something good. That isnt to say our spiritual focus isnt sharpened during Lent. Rather
its to wonder if having our minds set on Christ doesnt almost always take a back seat
to having our minds set on ourselves.
Well, if that sounds like Im talking about you, please dont be too quick to hear it as
criticism. After all, isnt having his mind set on himself exactly what Jesus was up to out
there in the wilderness? Whatever else he was doing, wasnt he learning more about
himself and about his mission in life? I have to believe that he was, that the notion that

he always cruised through his struggles self-assuredly, absolutely certain of the path
and the outcome is about as truthful as the fantasy I had as a young child that my dad
could lick anybody. Jesus grew into his ministry, his divine nature, just as we come here
to try to do.
I keep returning to the thought that if my faith, our faith, means anything at all, if it isnt
just some delusional pipe dream, then it has to be realistic . . . it has to fit in somehow
with the rest of what we know about life and creation. Of course that includes what we
know we dont know. It includes the truth that life is full of questions, full of mystery . . .
and that matters of the spirit dont often lend themselves to the descriptive language we
use for material things.
So let me ask, what are the realities of your lifes temptations? I think we understand a
lot about the temptations to be or do bad. We shouldnt kill. We shouldnt steal. We
shouldnt be greedy or lazy or duplicitous, etc., etc. But, what about the temptations to
be good? Are there any such things? What could possibly be bad about trying to be
good, to do good?
Well, if we were in a Matthew or Luke year, I could say something about Satans
temptation of turning stones into bread - his offer to feed a hungry world in exchange for
a little alteration of allegiance. But this is Marks year, so lets come at it from a different
angle - from taking a look at less exalted, more familiar and everyday temptations.
Have you ever awakened in the morning asking yourself, lets see, what evil thing can I
do today? How can I be bad? Even if what youre planning is in just about everyones
eyes a terrible thing, it probably isnt so awful in yours. You probably have a justification
in mind.
We wake up with our agendas: brush our teeth feed the dogs, write the dumb
sermon . . . . Whatever were getting set to take on, Im pretty sure theres a tacit
understanding that we hope to do it well. Even when we want, lets say, to get even with
that rude person who dissed us yesterday, I dont think our hope to do so sits in our
minds as a bad thing. We focus on the justice of it, or perhaps take a measure of
sadistic delight in the cleverness of our schemes, but even then we rarely judge
ourselves harshly . . . at least not before the fact.
I think I may be over-complicating a simple point - that people rarely set out to be bad.

But then, whether or not the rest of the world might judge our plans as good or bad,
sometimes, perhaps often, things go astray. Our self-perceived good intentions can
come under assault - distractions, frustrations and other interruptions enter the picture
and before we know it we might find our responses arising not out of our good intentions
but out of our bruised egos . . . and we act out, often in minor ways but sometimes to
disastrous effect.
Consider, if you will, the terrible world of abuse.
The psalmist says, Toyou,OLORD,Iliftupmysoul;
myGod,Iputmytrustinyou;
The great social development psychologist, Eric Ericson, earmarks trust, what he calls
basic trust between an infant and parent, as the earliest and most essential social
achievement in any persons life. In the formative stages of development, if a childs
environment doesnt come to be understood and felt as trustworthy - not perfectly
trustworthy but trustworthy enough - its not unlikely that, without persistent loving
intervention on down the road, that person will grow into a world of what Ericson calls
Basic Mistrust.
And its from this tortured world that most abuse arises - abuse of all kinds - physical,
verbal, sexual, neglectful . . . even political and international abuse, the rape of peoples
and nations.
Please understand this is only one of many perspectives from which to even begin to
understand something as pervasive and powerful as abuse. Im not trying to set myself
up as some authority on it or even a particularly knowledgeable proselytizer against it.
What Im trying to do, instead, is to take an all too recognizable part of human behavior
and cast the light of Gods grace upon it.
Again Im thinking of the waking thoughts in the mind of a person about to do something
terrible to a child or a spouse or an employee or a passing stranger. I dont think that
person is saying to himself, how can I inflict some abuse today? In fact I suspect its far
more likely that hell wake up wracked with guilt and shame and perhaps full of contrition
for abusive acts hes already committed. I suspect hell set out, if not to make amends,

then at least to live out a more considerate, less tortured day than the many hes
previously endured.
But then, as happens to us all, as Im pretty sure even happened to Jesus Christ, things
go wrong. Only in his instance these things, as likely as not something quite minor, at
least to our eyes, strike the chords built up in a lifetime of mistrust . . . and this is key to
understanding grace, they reaffirm the default position of this persons life - that hes
unloved . . . unlovable. And then, what? Rage? Shame? Despair? Whatever the
emotion, the abuse erupts - not always, perhaps, but even once is one time too many.
Abuse must never be condoned or dismissed or excused. We ignore it around us at our
peril and the worlds. But simply condemning it is easy, and I wonder just how much that
gets us. Wed do well to confront it in the light of standing before a forgiving, loving God
who calls out for repentance. Our temptation is to judge. Our vocation is to be apostles
of grace . . . to be, as St. Francis prays for us, instruments of Gods peace. Repentance
means turning in a new direction. For all of us, that includes finding new ways to
experience ourselves and our neighbors, even our abusive ones, as loved by God.
All the paths of the LORD are love and faithfulness, the Psalmist assures us. Can his
message get through, even to the unloved, even to the abuser?
Those of you fortunate enough to be here a couple of weeks ago heard this said so well
by our guest preacher, John Zahl - that the grace of God isnt just love of the lovable.
Ever so much more radically, the grace of God is to love the unloved. The grace of God
is in one ultimate and eternal way full of the ignorance we all lack - it has no knowledge
of the unlovable. It doesnt know how not to love, how not to reach out in forgiveness.
A few minutes ago I raised the question of whether somehow our Lent could be well
spent reflecting a bit on the temptation to be good. Maybe thats just me trying to be too
clever by half. Please, do be good . . . do good. But please also be aware that even
goodness has its dark side. Even though were well aware of the victory waiting for us
on the other side of Lent, we live in a fallen world - a world in which suffering and abuse
are never far away. And the people who suffer the most in our fallen world are the
people who dont know love. And in focusing too exclusively on our efforts to be good,
we might sometimes lose sight of the great, radical, life-altering message of Gods
grace. Gods grace knows no distinction. Its there for us all. Gracious and upright is the
Lord; therefore he teaches sinners in his way.

Abuse is a terrible scourge on our society. Its a good thing whenever its called out,
whenever its inhibited . . . and yes indeed, whenever abusers are held to account. But
our faith in the Lord who failed to condemn a sinner and told her go and sin no more
calls us to do more than rail against sin. Were called to join the battle against all sin, to
conquer it not just with tools of retribution and deterrence but with the tools of love.
After his temptation, the angels waited on Jesus. What are angels, if not manifestations
of Gods grace? Can we be angels?

Amen.