[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

Gospel

I stood with the others in church and listened to the day's Gospel: 
Christ's forty days in the desert and his temptation by Satan. Of 
course I hear this every Lent, but sometimes it clonks me harder than 
usual, or some new approach to it seizes hold of me. And that 
happened this morning.

That stones-into-bread business. Of course Jesus needs food; he's 
human like us, and he's come out of a very, very long hunger and is 
famished. We all have legitimate needs; we need water, food, shelter, 
clothes (at least in this climate), love, a chance to flourish, a use 
for our gifts, companionship, meaning.... The list goes on. Nothing 
wrong with having needs; that's just human.

But sometimes our needs become our chief focus; they become what 
other people are meant to fulfill, and we use others to fill our 
needs without regard for *their* needs -- even without regard for 
their humanity. We've all encountered someone so needy that the air 
seemed to get sucked out of the room. Live in a small town and you 
get adept at ducking down the side aisles of supermarkets when you 
see these people. Live in a city and you keep your head down lest you 
encounter another one.

When our needs become our gods and we sacrifice others to them, we've 
succumbed to temptation -- a temptation heartily endorsed by the 
currect culture. But Jesus says "no", even though his need for food 
is overwhelming and immediate, even though he has the power to 
indulge it. "My needs," he's saying, "God will meet in God's good 
time. I'll hang in there until that happens."

Jesus 1: temptation 0.

So, citing Psalm 91, Satan presents the next temptation: let's show 
off how special you are, Jesus. Just jump down off the pinnacle of 
the great Temple in Jerusalem, the highest and holiest spot in all 
Judah, and you know that angels will snatch you out of thin air and 
set you gently down without so much as a bruised toe.

Who among us is completely free of arrogance? Who's free of the 
temptation to show off how wise and intelligent we are? Who hasn't 
got God taped? Who doesn't know the truth? Who can't identify Those 
Evil Awful People Over There? Hey, look, I'm pointing at you, and 
three fingers are pointing back at me.

We screwed up in the first place by trying to be as smart as God 
instead of trusting God to know what's best for us -- our first 
lesson this morning, the Garden of Eden. We slither into arrogance 
over and over again, in gnosticism, in exaggerated and distorted 
beliefs that we nickname "heresy", in scientific materialism (note: 
not the same as science), in our constant need to know better than 
anyone else. We look down from our pinnacle and those beneath us seem 
so small, so unimportant.

But Jesus says "No," again. "I won't put God to the test. I won't 
pretend to be smarter than Creation." Jesus is God come down from 
God's own pinnacle and walking in love and intimacy with us, walking 
humbly. God doesn't need angels to bear God up. Instead, God has 
chosen to humble Godself with us, getting badly bruised in the 
process. A lesson we constantly miss.

Jesus 2: temptation 0.

And finally Satan offers Jesus control: "These are the nations of the 
earth, and I can make them yours to play with." And oh, how tempting 
that could be: to take power and straighten everybody out. No more 
wars. No more oppressing the weak and vulnerable. No more poverty, no 
more violence, no more suffering. I can do it *my* way -- which, 
coincidentally, is the way God wants it, because I happen to know 
what God wants.

We, in our wisdom (see Temple pinnacle, above) figure out that if we 
just manage everything to perfection, it will all turn out the way we 
want -- sorry, I meant the way God wants. If we make all the 
decisions, get all the details right, make sure that everyone does 
what they're supposed to, then it will all turn out just the way we should.

But look at what lies further down Jesus' road, on the other side of 
the acclamations and the palms and the potential to grab power: 
crucifixion. The ultimate in powerlessness, brokenness. Jesus, who 
could have all the power in the world, faces death naked and 
vulnerable and without raising a finger in his own defence. He could 
be in control. He chooses not to go there.

This is what holiness is: to turn its back on all three of these 
things, our own neediness, our own arrogance, our desire for control. 
We turn blindly and trustingly into the hand of God, like newborns to 
the dam. We release body, mind, and spirit into God's care, letting 
go, moving on.

The path we set out on during Lent isn't morbid or death-loving; it's 
a walk in surety and confidence through death and out the other side, 
in sure and certain hope of what lies beyond: serenity and the 
glowing love of God.

In memory of Jane Margaret Wolf, December 13, 1950-February 8, 2008.