Sunday, February 14,
2016 Lent I C
Deuteronomy 26:1-11;
Psalm 91: 1-2, 9-16; Romans 10: 8b-13; Luke 4:1-13
Every first
Sunday in Lent we hear the Temptation Narrative; this year it’s Luke’s
version. We begin our 40 days of
journeying toward God with this story because it contains some important truths
we need to hear; truths we need to claim in order to become realigned with God.
Beloved, there
are so many whispers trying to lure us away from our true identity, trying to
make us lose sight of those promises we make at baptism. There is an onslaught of everyday enticements
which tell us to go ahead and satisfy our appetites no matter the cost, to go
ahead and strive to gain power, status and authority, no matter what we might
have to compromise or who we might have to infringe upon in order to achieve
our personal success.
These are
the same whispers the Adversary murmurs into Jesus’ ear. At one of his lowest moments---when Jesus is
weak, hungry, exhausted---the Adversary whispers: If you are the Child of God……hoping to make Jesus question his
central identity, hoping to turn Jesus away from God’s vision toward evil’s’
vision. If you are….
In his
famished, weakened, tired, hot and empty state how does Jesus say no---how is
Jesus strong enough to resist temptation?
Jesus knows
who he is. Jesus knows he belongs to
God, that he comes from God and that he is returning to God. This truth, the truth of his identity, the
truth of where he comes from and where he is going---this truth allows Jesus to
trust completely in God’s vision. And
from that trust, Jesus surrenders himself to God’s plan---even though God’s
plan includes pain, suffering, loss, betrayal and death---Jesus believes, Jesus
trusts, and Jesus obeys. And through his obedience, Jesus is freed from the
hell of self-absorption. He is released
from worry, fear, and anxiety. He is able to say no to the Adversary and to say
yes to God.
Jesus
embraces his central reality that He is an offering, that his life is an
offering, that all that he has is meant to be given. And so his ministry
begins.
An Offering.
Offertory. Oblation. The reading from Deuteronomy calls us to make
an offering. Yes, it is a liturgical
act, an act we repeat each Sunday. But it
is so much more than simply placing money into the plate. Our pledges, our offerings, are the sign of
our thankfulness to God for all we have been given. We try to fool ourselves into thinking that
the money is ours---after all, we earned it.
But the ability to earn it, the opportunity to earn it, even the very
desire to earn it---comes from God. God
is the source of all that we have and all that we are. In great thanksgiving, we take the best of
the fruits of our labors---a percentage off the top of our harvest---and we
give it back to God. For the good of the
Kingdom.
Because here
is what we know about God; God takes those bits and pieces of our
offering---some are meager, some are plentiful---God takes all our offerings
and multiplies them. We lift them up to
be blessed, and in that blessing, God turns our offering into abundance. Like the fishes and the loaves, God blesses
and multiples whatever we are willing to offer--- so that the offering can be
shared and God’s people can have enough.
Not just enough, but then some.
Like the feeding of the thousands and the manna from heaven, there is
enough to meet people’s needs and then some.
But first, we are called to make the offering. If we don’t offer, God can’t multiply. Paucity doesn’t come from a lack of resources;
paucity comes from a lack of offering.
This invites
us to consider how we can be an offering--- as individuals and as a community. How can we offer ourselves and our gifts so
that others can experience God’s abundance?
How can we offer shelter, refuge, safety? How can we be a community that is an oasis of
God’s grace, mercy and compassion? What
will we need to sacrifice in order to be that offering? With whom are we called to partner so we can
turn the offerings we have into the abundance needed to meet the needs of all
in our communities?
For, it is
in our offering that we build bridges, we create relationships, we experience
and practice resurrection---bringing life where before there was only
barrenness and death. Our worship can be
such an offering when it is first and foremost centered on God and drawing
others to God rather than created for our preferences and our comfort. God multiplies our offering when we join with
others, like our partnership with St. Paul’s United Methodist for our young
people and our youth, as well as the partnership we are starting with Redeemer
Lutheran in order to answer our common call to Mission. These joint offerings begin to heal the
divisions within the Body of Christ and restore our union to one another.
None of this
is easy. Most of it is challenging. But here’s another great truth we need to
recognize in this pivotal story on this first Sunday of Lent. Before Jesus entered the wilderness, he was
filled with the Holy Spirit. We cannot
do the work to which we are called if we are not filled with the Holy
Spirit. Are we regularly and
consistently participating in opportunities where the Holy Spirit can possess
and fill us with God’s strength and grace?
Or are we lured away by our business, our inertia, our own convenience?
Beloved, if we are truly seeking to live out our truest identity as God’s own,
the Word points us to the truth that we cannot do this from our own
strength---but only through the power of the Holy Spirit. Through the grace and
power of God, we can be turned from being inward-focused in order to become
outward-focused. A transformation that
gives us the desire and the fortitude to offer our selves and our lives for
God’s glory. And for the good of the Kingdom.
This past
Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, Laura Courtright Burns from St Paul’s and I (with
help from Sally Jones), went over to the University to offer Ashes to Go. A few students even took us up on it and were
reminded that they are but dust and to dust they shall return. We had a few good conversations, lots of
smiles and greetings on that cold, cold day.
In between the passing times of students, we went into Zest to warm
up.
During our
first warming session in Zest’s, there was a young Muslim woman wearing a hijab. We made eye contact and said hello. Now, picture this with me. I am in my collar, my cassock, my white
surplice, my purple stole, and my large black, woolen cape. I have on a hat and a sign around my neck
declaring: It’s Ash Wednesday people!
Get your Ashes to Go!
The young
woman looks at me, takes it all in and pointing to my vestments and clerical
regalia asks: “So, what is all this about? “
I explain it is Ash Wednesday, a day when we remember that God took
dust, blew God’s breath into it and created life. I ask her if she is a Muslim
and she says yes. I say, “So then you
know about the prophet Jesus (because
Muslims honor Jesus as a great prophet whose life is an example of goodness).
Well, Ash Wednesday,” I explain, “is the
first day of Lent, and Lent is a season that reminds us of Jesus’ 40 days in
the wilderness and how it is like our journey of drawing closer to God.”
She thanks
me for the explanation. I then ask her
to teach me the tradition Muslim greeting.
“asalam alaykum,” she says. I
have to repeat it a couple of times to get it right. I thank her.
Might not
seem like much, these few minutes of time.
But, as an outsider looking at this conversation, all you would have
seen is what divides us: She in her hijab, me in all my clerical regalia. From the outside we are so different. But in those minutes, in the midst of all the
items that pointed to our differences, we offered ourselves to one another. We each moved from a greater truth---that we
belong to one another---that we can feel safe enough to see one another. She offered a question; I offered a response,
and in that offering, some of the broken strands of God’s web of grace were
restored. A small bridge built, the seed
of a relationship sown.
Asalam
Alaykum; Shalom; Namaste; Peace be with You.
Let us be so
possessed by the Holy Spirit that we are empowered to live our true identity,
strengthened to be an offering of God’s love.
