The different Temptation of Christ

 In preaching a sermon on the Temptation narrative, Fred Craddock makes an interesting observation.  He points out that the common perception of the devil is that of a being with horns and a red suit, pointy tail and sharp goatee.  If you look up the temptation of Jesus on Google, many of the images have the bat-winged, almost cartoonish figure that goes with the stereotype.  Even allowing for the symbolic representation of some of these pictures, the overall effect is a bit much.  Craddock says that, given this appearance, most of us would be on our guard and would be prepared to resist the Tempter.

My image comes from the Bible story books that used to be in the doctor’s office when I was a child.  The devil was a bit sinister in appearance, to be sure.  But he wasn’t a caricature.  He was gesturing in a welcoming fashion while Jesus was turning away and holding up his hand in a resisting posture.  That might prove a bit more daunting.  Or at least convincing.

Craddock, though, says that when he pictures Jesus in this setting, he pictures him alone.  He is after all in the desert. He has been there some time.  He has not eaten for over a month.  What more powerful ordeal might there be than to face the wilderness alone? 

That gives me something to conjure with.  It is the kind of perception that used to make radio so powerful.  If you listen to “War of the Worlds” or “Dracula” from the Mercury Radio Theater, these works can be much scarier than storytellers depict on any movie screen.  The imagination is the greatest narrator in the world.  In that light, a temptation without physical presence, a temptation guided by the psyche, might be the most persuasive of all.

Lead us not into temptation…

Upon the collect for the Third Sunday in Lent

Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves
to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and
inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all
adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil
thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus
Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy
Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

This is the Collect for the Third Sunday in Lent.  It contains the affirmation, "We have no power in ourselves to heal ourselves."  Among the many themes of this stretch of time is our total dependence on God's Grace.  The church has combated the concept of "works righteousness" from its beginnings.  

One can understand the reasoning behind embracing a theology of works.  In a culture of the "self-made individual" and "pulling oneself up by the bootstraps" it is attractive to think that our salvation can be accomplished by our own actions.  If we work hard enough, strive faithfully enough, and check all the boxes that should be enough to earn a spot in heaven.

But the church has never taught that.  Salvation is not a human activity.  Deliverance is an act of God, and God grants that gift not to the active but to the faithful.

The collect goes on to petition the Lord to keep and defend us.  This is a further assertion that we are utterly dependent on God.

The season of Lent is a time of seeking to be drawn closer to God.  It is not about us.  It is about God.

Jesus' second word from The Cross

 "Today, you will be with me in paradise."  -- Luke 23:43

In the traditional scheme of Jesus' Seven Last Words, this saying is the second of Jesus' pronouncements.  It is Jesus' response to the second of the two thieves with whom Jesus was crucified.

 I have heard the "Today" of this saying batted around to ridiculous extents.  The crux of that debate is whether people immediately enter Heaven (or Hell) upon their deaths, or do they await a general resurrection on the Last Day? Some of those in the latter camp hold that only Enoch, Elijah, Moses, the thief on the cross, and Mary the Mother of Jesus (or any combination of these folks) are already in Heaven.

Likewise, people argue ad infinitum about the precise nature of "Paradise."  the popular modern understanding is that the term refers to "Heaven."  But what 21st century believers frequently understand by that word is totally outside any First Century comprehension of Paradise.  And again, one question becomes, "when does one enter whatever realm is in the afterlife?"  A lot of people have ideas about such things, but there is neither a definitive answer nor a consensus opinion.

I hold that the thrust of the saying is found neither in the first term nor the last.  The comfort, the revelatory sympathy, comes in mid-sentence: "with me."  The "when" or the "where" is irrelevant in the face of the "who."  Isn't the hope of every believer that -- in whatever form it presents itself -- that we abide with Jesus?  If that is our hope, if that is our promise, the rest of the debate fades as does a puff of smoke.

If Jesus says, "...you will be with me..." that is enough.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Further thoughts on Lent

 The liturgical season of Lent has a long history.  As you can imagine, some aspects of the seasonal observance change over time.  The church adds some things.  Other features fall away.  It can be a fluid time. 

One of the practices of days gone by was that the church took this time to instruct and examine people who had left the church or who had been dismissed from its fellowship.  It was a bit easier to do when the church was more monolithic.  Now, if someone becomes disaffected but does not desire to live outside the church altogether, they can join another congregation or denomination.  They can remain anonymous regarding their past church affiliation.  Beyond affirming that they have received baptism (and perhaps answering some questions regarding the mode of baptism) most churches receive membership transfers no questions asked.  If the receiving congregation bothers to contact the individual’s former church at all it is a formality.  It has to do with membership totals rather than spiritual nurture.  So, the idea of expulsion in the name of church discipline is effectively non-existent.  Likewise, a member who chooses to leave for even the most trivial of reasons does not have to explain or justify their uniting with another church.

In a different time, a dismissed church member petitioned the congregation for re-admission.  Church and individual examined the separation and a time of inquiry and instruction followed.  Then, on Easter Day, the approved member re-entered the community of faith.  It was a time of true reconciliation between a congregation and a returning person.

Now, I am not advocating kicking people out of the church’s fellowship.  Likewise, pressuring folks with too many questions provides a sure-fire guarantee to run them off.  But I see an ideal world where -- if someone presents themselves for church membership after being a part of another fellowship – the receiving church might ask, “Why?”

People relocate.  They need a church home.  They fall away and look for a fresh start.  I’m good with that.  But, “I didn’t agree with everything my former church did or believed or said it stood for” might require some more examination.  The “it’s easier to leave than work out our differences” practice brings a lot of malcontents into local churches for a lot of the wrong reasons.  Again, I look at an ideal where churches look to make disciples and not claim scalps.

I also look to an ideal where the search for genuine reconciliation is real. 

I can dream, can’t I?

Hate the Sin & Love the Sinner?

 

 

Once upon a time I made it a point to notice bumper stickers. There were a few that I found truly clever, or at least, entertaining. 

     I do whatever the little voices tell me to 

    My child is an honor student; my governor is a moron 

    Buckle up: it makes it harder for the aliens to suck you out of your car 

 It was when people started to declare their entire theology in a one-sentence decal that I gave up on them. I started to see things like: 

    Do you follow Jesus this closely? 

    God needs salt shakers and light bulbs 

    God answers knee-mail 

    It’s not a religion --- it’s a relationship 

 

The one that put me over the edge, though, was this: 

    Hate the Sin, But Love the Sinner. 

 Just let that sink in a minute. Hate the Sin, But Love the Sinner. There are behaviors of which I disapprove. There are certain actions that I can even say I hate. But fortunately, I am not the sin police. I have enough trouble dealing with my own transgressions and that takes up most of my time. 

But, the problem I have is not hating the sin, it is having “love the sinner” qualified. If I am to love as Jesus directs me to love in multitudes of locations in the New Testament, I don’t get to qualify that. I am not instructed to love people except when they exhibit certain behaviors. Jesus doesn’t tell me to love everybody unless they fail some litmus test. Jesus doesn’t tell me to love people as long as they believe what I believe, act as I act and speak as I speak. 

Jesus says “Love one another as I have loved you.” God’s love as expressed in Jesus Christ is unconditional love. It is love without exception. It is love without qualification. God loves all that God has made with no provisos. 

Don’t try to tell me that God loves all who repent of their sin. Jesus sacrificed for us long before any of us expressed any kind of faith. “God so loved THE WORLD,” not so loved the part of the world that neatly fit into a certain Protestant Scheme.  If we are sitting in church and are asked to move over so that another person can sit down, do we say, “Would you fill out this checklist first?” 

If a person follows her/his own bumper sticker directive, the “Hate” fades away so that only “Love” remains. The love of a disciple -- Christ-like love as for a sibling or other family member – comes freely, completely, and with blinders on. All we can see is love. We look past the disappointments. We pass over the failures. We remember that we ourselves have nailed Jesus to the cross by our own sinfulness. If Christ can love us without qualification, how can we who call ourselves by His Holy Name possibly do less? 

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Upon the Collect for the Day

 

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns,one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

This is the collect for the week (The Second Sunday in Lent) from The Book of Common Prayer. As with most of the prayers in this volume this collect has a simple elegance that I find in few other places.  If you compare the BCP to most of the liturgical and prayer resources of The United Methodist Church the UMC material hides its face in shame.  One of my mentors in commenting on Methodism’s rituals told me, “Some day our church will employ a poet as part of the liturgy production process, and we’ll be far better off than we are now.”

Truer words.

But, as I consider the work at hand, one term strikes me.  It is the word “unchangeable.”   It comes in the phrase “to hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son.”  I hear this with the ears of someone who has endured the blather of the United Methodist Church’s special called General Conference of three years ago.  I heard this word and similar ones bandied about by people who seemed to have no idea what their language meant.

Because there is a difference between “unchangeable” and “unchanging.”  Unchangeable is a word that we reserve for God and Christ and the Holy Spirit.  It speaks of Truth with a capital “T.”  Unchanging is a more stubborn word and folks seem to use it to defy the reality that things of the faith and understanding and revelation are fluid in their natures.  The list of things about which the church (or much of the church) has altered the literal language of the Bible is endless.  The role of women, slavery, treatment of children, polygamy, capital punishment and a host of dietary laws do not begin to complete the list of practices that modern-day Christians have modified beyond the letter of the law in Scripture. 

Anyone who says that faith and commandment and law are static terms in the practice of the Christian religion is either naïve or spends their entire life with their head in the sand.  God is unchangeable.  Revelation is ever-changing.  That we are not bound by a rigid set of laws under penalty of damnation is affirmed in the first line of today’s collect: O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy…  If it is God’s nature to put mercy first, it seems only fitting that those who would identify themselves as children of God should do the same.

Giving Up Something for Lent

 

Lent is a season that -- for some -- includes fasting as a way of observing this time.   Jesus fasted for forty days following his baptism.  During this time, he was in the wilderness being tempted by the Devil.  This fast and the Lenten season are connected by this number of days and by this fasting practice.

I don’t know that many people literally fast for this entire period.  Even with the fact that Sundays don’t make up a part of this self-denying season, I don’t hear people reflecting on their season-long denial of food.

Some folks participate in a partial fast.  They will refrain from eating until three in the afternoon, or until sunset (they hate to see Daylight Saving Time come).  Others follow a long-standing church tradition of abstaining from “pleasant food.”  I suppose that is a bit of a subjective evaluation.  One person’s “pleasant” is another one’s “rejection.”

So, observing this time with an exercise of self-denial takes on many forms.  “Giving up something for Lent” leaves the realm of food behind for a lot of people.  They instead abandon practices or diversions for these days.

It is not up to me to judge another person’s spiritual discipline.  But I would ask anyone to evaluate their choices with this question: Is that which you are setting aside good enough to give up for Lent?   What I mean by that is does a person set aside something that is bad for them and then claim it as a spiritual discipline?  I have heard people talk of giving up excessive consumption of alcohol, smoking, driving over the speed limit, cursing, overeating and a host of other behaviors in the name of observing the season.

As difficult as it may be for some individuals to set aside addictive behavior, I question the labeling of these things as a sacrificial gift that one places before the Throne of Grace.  If I “give up” overindulging of food, do I set my practice down at the feet of Christ and say, “Lord, I have given up gluttony in my devotion to you?”  I mean, isn’t gluttony one of the Seven Deadly Sins?  Isn’t it a practice that I should have avoided from the get-go?  Do I give myself permission to be a glutton again once Lent is over and Easter commences?  That just doesn’t seem right.

So, what is appropriate if we observe this practice?  I have known people who have given up seemingly small things, but they required real effort on the part of the practitioner.  One of the positives that grows out of a decision to deny something is that some believers leave behind a practice and in its place, they substitute times of prayer, meditation or reflection.  When Lent passes, they may re-order their lives for the long haul.  Or, they may resume their former ways with a new appreciation of the part that the thing they have done without plays in their lives.

So, if we have set something aside (or start today, as there is no need to be legalistic – it’s not too late), we might want to make sure that it’s good enough.