Sermon. 6 March 2022. First Sunday of
Lent (Year of Luke)
Here we are. Where are we? We are in
a place where the needs and sufferings of others, at national, European and
international level, are pressing in on us, like seldom before. And we are also
in the first Sunday of Lent. Any time we might spend, discussing the crisis in
Ukraine and the evils of the Russian invasion would be time well spent. But!
But there is a case for saying that, when we are in crisis, that is precisely
when the Church’s liturgical year can help us most. For the story that that
carefully crafted year tells is – so the Church teaches – not entertainment,
nor even primarily for our edification. It is rather the very story of
salvation. It is the story that can save us. As persons, and as a world. So let
us spend some moments dwelling on the temptations of Christ, or the testing of
Christ.
We have been primed to expect the account
of the temptations of Jesus, not only by our collect, but also because, for
those of us who inhabit Church culture in any degree, there is still a sense
that one theme of Lent as a whole is the temptations he endured. So let us
first be clear that it was and is not so, for any reading the gospel accounts
for the first time. There, there is a sudden swerve. In Matthew, Mark and Luke,
what comes before this is the wonderful, the glorious, the joyful account of
the baptism of Jesus. At his baptism, Jesus experiences the Spirit descending,
and hears the heavenly voice of the Father, saying those words which are
affirming, but so much more than affirming: “You are my Son, the Beloved,
with you I am well pleased” [Luke 3.22]. Who (who didn’t know) would expect
that, after such a powerful commissioning, Jesus is sent into the wilderness?
It is true that Luke mellows or blurs
the point a little. He includes the genealogy of Jesus at this point [Luke 3.23-38].
It is sharpest in Mark. Mark [Mark 1.11] has it that, straight after hearing the
beautiful Voice, the spirit “casts him out”, “hurls him out”, into the
wilderness. I use the present tense and that these words deliberately. The verb
Mark uses is the one he tends to use for exorcisms. Luke is more sedate: Jesus
is “led out” by the spirit. But the core point stands: the Baptism of our Lord
and the Temptations of our Lord are intimately connected. Might we even say
they are two sides of the same coin?
Luke (like Matthew) gives us a look
into the dialogue between Jesus and the devil-figure. I’d like to reflect on
Jesus’s answers (I’ll leave the devil’s questions for another time!).
Jesus’s answers:
·
“One
does not live by bread alone.”
·
“Worship
the Lord your God and serve only him.”
·
“Do
not put the Lord your God to the test.”
What do these sentences have in
common?
That’s easy, you might say. What they
have in common is that they are all Scripture. Jesus says: “It is written… it
is written… it is said”. The adult Jesus (like the child Jesus, according to
Luke) knows his Bible and is not afraid to use it! He draws deeply on the
Hebrew Bible, the Scripture Christians have long called the Old Testament, but
we might as truly call it the “Original Testament”. It is the only Testament
Jesus knew.
Yes, Jesus quotes Scripture. But It
is actually much, much more focused than that. Did you realise that Jesus here
quotes, all three times, from one biblical book? And that book… is Deuteronomy.
If you want the nitty-gritty, he
quotes:
·
Deuteronomy 8.3;
·
Deuteronomy
6.13 and 10.20;
·
Deuteronomy
6.16
(he sticks more closely to the Greek
than the Hebrew).
Now, if I were to suggest: “Let us
fill our Lent with an intensive study of Deuteronomy”, I wonder – I do wonder -
what your reaction would be? Deuteronomy – or at least the idea of Deuteronomy
- rarely sets churchgoers’ hearts ablaze. I can see why: it’s very name means
(in Greek) “the repetition of the law”. “The repetition of the law”.
But, here I want to suggest, gently
but insistently, that, for Jesus, things are different. For Jesus, Deuteronomy
has high status. We see that here. When the devil-figure quotes from Psalms [Ps
91.11f] (“He shall command his angels”, and so on), Jesus does not debate the
meaning, or even reach for another Psalm (there are 150 to choose from). No. He
returns to Deuteronomy. It is not incidental; it is not accidental.
Deuteronomy is one of the Five Books
of Moses. Indeed, it is the final of the Five Books. Indeed, it is a
recapitulation of some of the story and many of the commands that are found in
Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers. It is,
in Jewish terms, the final book of the books of… Torah. Torah is often
translated “Law” by Christians. We find this already in the New Testament (the
Greek: Nomos). But it was never a happy translation. Better would be
“Guidance” or “Teaching”. Such language works better etymologically, and also takes
seriously that all five books contain much more than laws.
Torah, for Jews, then as now, is not
some handy homely human guidance or teaching. No, this is the very Guidance of
Gd Gdself. This is the Guidance of Gd which comes to us as Revelation. This is supremely
the record of the Revelation of Gd at Sinai.
·
In
the cloud.
·
As
the Unseen Voice.
·
Gd’s
very words to Gd’s people.
Jews do not call their Scriptures the
“Old Testament” (except perhaps when explaining something to Christians). They
call the Bible “Tanakh” [or “Tenakh”]. This is an acronym. It stands for the
Hebrew words for “Torah, Prophets, Writings” [Torah, Nevi’im, Ketuvim].
Already in that word there is a strong hint about how Jews views the books.
Don’t think of a linear progression,
a historical line from initial creation and the first people, to the return of
the people from exile. That is not how faithful Jewish people arrange the
material. Rather, think of three concentric circles.
In the first circle is the Revelation
of Gd at Sinai, with the story that led up to it, and the story of learning the
outworkings of that Revelation while the people are still in the wilderness.
This is – I don’t apologise for repeating the point – the very Revelation of
Gd.
In the second circle come the Prophets.
Here, there is still revelation, sure, but now clearly always mediated through
a prophetic figure, who may add their own colourings, and the focus – or at
least one focus – is specific to a time and a place. “The word of the Lord
came to X concerning Y”, as we read, again and again.
And in the outer circle are all the Writings.
The books that are not Prophetic, heading off with the Book of Psalms. Here
there is divine inspiration. But the mediation is to the fore. Think of the
Book of Proverbs, for example. Here (we can say) is graced human wisdom. Graced
human wisdom is a wonderful, life-giving thing, but it is not the Very Voice,
speaking out of the cloud, to the whole people gathered.
Torah at the centre; then the
Prophets; then the Writings.
I think you might have guessed my
point. It surely seems like Jesus is using this very frame, when he is tempted.
Jesus is arguing as a Jew. You might say: “Of course! Of course he absorbed the
culture of his place and time. But so what?” Well, I say more is going on than
that, here. Here, surely, Jesus is being challenged on the level of his
identity. “If you are the Son of God”. The devil-figure repeats it [Luke
4.3, 9] and so will I: “If you are the Son of God”. That “if”.
“Surely the voice you heard at your
baptism wasn’t real? You think Gd meant it? Well, here is a way – an easy way –
a fool-proof way - of testing whether Gd meant it. You can prove it, once for
all. You can do this, if you are the Son of Gd.”
And, when he is challenged at the
level of his identity, and his identity with his Father no less – when he
challenged to the core - that is when he actively turns not to the Bible as a
whole, but specifically and exclusively to Torah. Jesus (again, no apologies
for repeating myself) Jesus argues as a Jew.
Challenged at the level of identity.
I will be blunt. Lent is supposed to
be (among other things) a time when we, too, allow ourselves to be challenged
at the level of our identity.
·
What
is it that we rely on? Where do we seek the comfort and consolation and
guidance and energy and little helps that keep us going?
·
What
does our behaviour tell the world about who we think we are?
·
And
of course: what are we, both publicly and privately, proud of?
Year in, year out, these are not
going to be comfortable questions. It takes courage – it always takes courage –
to ask them.
And this year, as already touched upon,
and as you are only too aware, we are forced to ask them alongside other
challenges to our identity.
Questions like:
·
Do
we identify with sisters and brothers over a thousand miles to the East, and if so, how?[1]
·
Do
we, if we consider ourselves committed to democracy, owe other democracies
support when invaded, and if so, how?
·
Do
we struggle – do we fight - for peace, and if so, how?
And, if that were not agonising
enough, I add:
·
Is
one of the things we have uncovered in recent days the cold hard fact that in
truth we believe there are different kinds of war – those we can’t ignore, and
those we can ignore.
Whether we are thinking personally or
politically, as disciples or as a Church, these are painfully hard questions to
answer thoroughly. (I mean by this: to answer in a way that impacts upon our
behaviour, not just our speech.)
I suggest that, here and now, at the
beginning of Lent (which will be a long journey), we are encouraged to give
thanks that Jesus too knew such testing. He struggled with such testing. (If he
didn’t struggle, he was not tested.) And I have probably said enough for it to
be clear that I would add that we can also give thanks that Jesus, as a
classically argumentative Jew, found strength in Torah, the Torah of his people.
But, whether I have convinced you of that or not, this abides:
Jesus, Jews, Christians, you, I… and Putin… do not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of Gd. Let us attend!
Amen.
[1]
Kyiv is about 1,500 miles ESE of London.
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