The Wilderness

Photo of The Very Rev. Dean Terry White by The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

The Olympic Games are a great source of preaching material.  Unlike professional sports, and increasingly unlike college sports, humanity can be clearly seen in most Olympic competitors. And thus, we spectators find it easy to empathize with the highs and the lows, the victories and defeats, the heartbreaking moments and tragedies, and the improbable outcomes that bring smiles and tears.

I was a vicar of two Wisconsin congregations during the XV Winter Olympic games. All of the state was behind favorite son speed skater Dan Jansen.  I stopped a Vestry meeting while we watched him compete in his first race. Morgan Freeman narrates a commercial which recalls the story. Jansen’s sister Jane died hours before he began competition. He dedicated his performance to her. And it seemed like all the world ached for him as he fell not once but in two races, and did not bring home a medal.  At the next Olympics, his best finish was 4th. At the XVII games, he fell in a race he was leading, but in his second race he won gold, and from the podium glanced heaven ward and told Jane it was for her.

Such stories feed the Olympic mystic. The runner who popped a hamstring, and was helped across the finish line by his father. U.S. gymnast Kerri Strug nailed a vault with a severely injured ankle, and was carried off the floor by her coach. These stories we tend to remember, and like the “fish-that-got-away-was-THIS-big” the stories understandably grow in stature.

But there are other stories of struggle and heartbreak and tragedy, where there is no comeback, stories which end with no eventual triumph, no redemption, no gold medal.

As much as the stories of delayed victory won appeal to the positive-thinking Norman Vincent Peale inside each of us, if we are to be truly touched by the humanity of the Olympic games, we identify with the family whose child had fulfilled a dream to compete only to die in an accident on the luge track, or the experienced Olympian, who, with one athlete left to compete, was finally in place to win a bronze medal at her last Games, except that that last competitor beat her time by one one-hundredth of second. And the many unknown qualifiers who never made the trip because of serious illness, hardship, or unjust restrictions to travel, and never will get a second opportunity.

The fullness of humanity includes all of life’s experiences: sadness, pure joy, defeat, triumph, injustice, fate, heartbreak and miracle.  We are so used to being inspired by the dramatic underdog stories that we run the danger of missing the inspiration that comes from just getting out of bed the day after extreme hardship, or simply heading out the door to face what is certain to be the most difficult day of one’s life.  The fullness of what it means to be human should not be ignored, and must not be denied.

Each year on Lent’s First Sunday we are confronted by one evangelist’s version of Christ’s temptations in the wilderness.  I suppose we have imagined Matthew, Mark, and Luke, sitting at a medieval desk from a monastery’s scriptorium, pausing for a moment to decide how to put their particular editor’s touch on a certain event.

Perhaps, in describing how Christ was tempted, Luke puts himself into the details. And more to the point, invites each of us to identify with this story, and especially with the humanity of Jesus in the same way we identify with the experience of an Olympic athlete.

All the synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke – agree that after his baptism Jesus ended up in the wilderness.  Mark mentions it in one sentence, while Matthew and Luke tell a story. Matthew says that Jesus was “driven” by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan, sounding a little too much like a hazing.  Luke says that Jesus was “led” by the Spirit.  It is Luke’s conviction that the wilderness is a natural part of our relationship with God, and despite a human desire to equate the wilderness with being separated from God, Luke says the opposite: the Holy Spirit is already in the wilderness, and the Spirit leads us.

We probably know by now that the biblical reference to forty days means a long time, and not just in the sense of chronos, how we are used to telling time. This is about kairos, God’s time. How long does it take to emerge from the water of baptism, from hearing a heavenly voice say “You are mine, my beloved” and then discern what that means?  How long does it take?  Without attributing the answer to a heavenly voice, Luke’s answer is that spending forty days in the wilderness means “it takes as long as it takes.”  That is not a virtue highly valued these days. We like quick answers, make little times for discernment or reflection, and move on without looking back.

Luke describes three temptations, and if the list builds to the most important temptation, we should notice his list differs from Matthew.  Luke says the most important temptation has to do with whether one trusts and relies in God.  Matthew emphasizes Jesus' cosmic authority, but from the beginning of his Gospel, Luke has shown how the main characters -- Elizabeth and Zechariah, Mary and Joseph -- have been certain of God’s presence and despite outrageous demands, have completely relied on God’s care and presence.

Luke’s devil sneers several times and asks Jesus, “If you are the Son of God…”  If you are the beloved, the anointed, then . . .  Jesus, and you and I know this kind of temptation.  The “if, then” formula is always a torment, it never gives us comfort, or builds us up, or instills confidence. It degrades, and belittles, causes us to repeatedly question ourselves, and robs us of power, and would have completely forsake the promise of baptism: that we are a beloved daughter or son of Almighty God.  Luke shares himself here, enabling us to relate to the severity and anguish of this wilderness experience.

With each temptation, as the Evil One seeks to gain a foothold, Jesus responds by pointing not to himself, but to God, not to his will, but to the Father’s:  Worship God only, serve God only, do not put God to the test, and my own edit would be “do not put God’s love to the test.”  There is no divine love found in giving into any of these temptations; indeed, the profound absence of God’s love is what is on the other side of temptation’s door.  We know that because we have walked through those doors.

Finally, Luke knows the wilderness is not a one-time reality, but is an experience we continually face.  Yet, again, Luke proclaims that the Holy Spirit is always there, too.  Among the wilderness-times ahead is Gethsemane, where Jesus prays for strength to follow the Father’s will.

Once the forty days have passed, that is, once “as long as it takes” has come to pass, Luke says that Jesus returns to Galilee, calls his disciples, creates a community, and thereby chooses again not to point to himself, but to be in relationship with God through his relationship with his disciples, and together, they are about the work of baptism: preaching good news, healing, feedings, forgiving sins, encouraging people to live faithfully and to serve one another, and continually facing demons and temptations. It is very human and familiar pattern.  (O’Driscoll, The Word Among Us.)

For me there are three great symbols of the Winter Olympics:  the flag of five rings representing the peoples of the world, the fire created when people unite, and the theme song: March of the Olympians, which stirs the soul, and I confess to you, turns me into an easy chair conductor!  It is a call to join the march, share in the majesty and unity of humanity that cannot be extinguish, and share one another’s burdens and pain.

In a few verses of today’s Gospel, Luke paints a full portrait of Jesus’ humanity. It is so accessible to us because it is so familiar.  Luke is holding up a mirror for us. There are no quick fixes – it takes as long as it takes. But in every wilderness, the presence of the Spirit and the leading of the Spirit assure us that no temptation of Satan, no devil’s power can defeat us. Even when we sin and do harm to ourselves and others, nothing can sever the relationship of baptism. We are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own forever.

We are never abandoned in the wilderness. We always have God’s love that enables us to repent, right our wrongs, learn from missteps and failures, and begin the journey with God again. We can’t win the gold medal every time, or ever. We can’t always experience a story-book ending, or ever.  But, we always, always have God’s love and forgiveness, and whatever we do and where ever we are, we always have the sure and certain promise of eternal life.  Even when we have lost sight of God – God never loses sight of us. 

Let Satan bring it on. Because we are bound to God in love, God will deliver us. And by grace, we will beat down Satan under our feet.