17 February 2013, First Sunday in Lent
Deuteronomy 26:1-11; Luke 4:1-13
Every year,
when the people brought the first fruits of the early harvest to the altar of
the Lord, as Moses instructed, they were to recite their story. Generation
after generation, they were to tell the story as if it happened to them
personally,
"A
wandering Aramean was my father; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an
alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous.
When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor
on us, we cried to the LORD, the God of our ancestors; the LORD heard our voice
and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The LORD brought us out
of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display
of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and
gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first
of the fruit of the ground that you, O LORD, have given me."
The
pilgrimage to the temple, the presentation of the gifts, and the recitation of
the story were all identity-forming experiences. Israel was shaped and united
by a common story, a story of undeserved suffering and unearned salvation. As
long as they remembered their story, and behaved as a people who were only
recently rescued, they would be all right. Moses cautioned them about the
temptations of a soft life: When you have entered the land of milk and honey,
and you have built your houses and eaten the produce of the land… “Do not say
to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gained me this
wealth.’” (Deut. 8:17) According to Moses, the virtuous life is rooted in an
understanding that we belong to God. It is God who made us who we are today.
And every
year, on the first Sunday of the season of Lent, we tell each other the story
of Jesus in the wilderness. When we tell the story from Mark's gospel we get
only a brief reference to the temptation—he was in the wilderness, with the
wild beasts, tempted by Satan, angels ministered to him. But Matthew’s and
Luke’s versions tell of three specific temptations, each one challenging Jesus
identity.
“If you are
the son of God…”
Well, that
is probably what Jesus was trying to figure out. What does it mean to be the
son of God? He had just been baptized by John in the Jordan river, he had felt
the presence, heard the voice, “You are my son, my beloved, with you I am well
pleased.” And immediately the spirit drove him into the wilderness to think
about that. Does it mean privilege? Does it mean wealth? Does it mean power
over life and death?
If you are
the child of God… what does it mean?
They are
not all good stories. Every family has its heroes and scoundrels. Some stories
give us something good to aim for, other stories are cautionary tales. If you
are lucky, you were told a story of how you came into this life, and into your
family—a story of how you were loved and cherished from the start, a story
which confirms our God-given identity.
But perhaps you were told a
different kind of story. Perhaps instead of building you up, the stories that
you were told tore you down. Like my friend whose mother told her that she was
a burden, that she was unwanted, that she was a mistake. Those stories are
difficult to overcome. But we can claim for ourselves a new story, and in
claiming a new story we claim a new identity. Moses teaches us that it is our
God-given identity, not our self-made identity, and not the identity that others
would impose upon us that matters.
The story of Jesus in the
wilderness teaches us that when we are tempted, it is our stories that can save
us. If we can remember who and whose we are, then we can resist the claims that
others make on us. If we can remember who we are, then we can resist the
alluring temptations about what we have earned and what we deserve, and be
content with what God has granted.
The power of story was illustrated
on the front page of Thursday’s Free
Press, about the “controversial social studies standards.” For generations,
we have all been told the same stories about America. They were the same stories
that our parents learned. Many of us grew up and learned that those stories
were not the whole truth. Having learned to listen to other stories, we ask,
“Why do we keep telling stories that are not altogether true?”
Why do we keep telling the story of
America’s Revolutionary War as a great and glorious effort on behalf of Liberty,
when about half a million people were enslaved before, during and after that Revolution?
Why do we keep telling the story of Westward Expansion as if the Great Plains,
the mountains and beyond were completely empty, vacant of human life?
The new social studies standards
are an effort to tell everyone’s story. Not just the one story line we learned
as children, but everyone’s story. Of course, there are people who are opposed
to the change. Change is frightening to people whose personal identities are
invested in the story of America as they heard it in school and in church,
stories of the land of the free and home of the brave, stories of a nation with
leaders so virtuous that it could do no wrong. I have sympathy for these people
because they are afraid that their story, and therefore their identity, will be
taken away. Take away our stories and who are we? I sympathize, but I do not
agree. I hope the experience inspires empathy for people whose stories have
been ignored for far too long.
I believe that we will all be
enriched by hearing other stories. I believe that sharing our stories may be
our country’s salvation. As we share our various perspectives, our various
stories, a new story of America, a better story of America, will emerge.
I think it is the same for the
congregation. The answer to who we are as a congregation is in our stories,
which I am only beginning to learn, a little bit here and there. And I wonder
how well you know each other’s stories. As we journey through the season of
Lent, I’m going to ask you to share your stories with each other. I believe
that as we listen to each other tell our stories, an over-arching theme will
develop, and give rise to the story of our congregation.
As we
worship together during this season of Lent, we will be exploring the question
of identity. Who are you, Jesus? And who are we because of you? We will be
listening for the answer in the stories of scripture and in our stories. Lent
is a season of self-examination, so I will encourage you to remember your own
stories and examine them.
May God be
with us, and may angels minister to us, as we enter this season together.
