Temptation

An image of Don Quixote in Cordoba, Spain.

(c) John Leech. 2024.

Three temptations. And Jesus passes up on all of them. But they would be so easy to succumb to - and who could blame the old Adam if the new Adam did not partake?

First of all there is security - and there is power. What a temptation! If I could turn this stone into bread, think what else I could do. I could be like Midas only better. And one hopes, gluten-free.

After all, bread goes stale. Gold, however. That is bankable. Or perhaps you would prefer bitcoin? Conjure all you want! You won’t be alone.

Power - power to make one mad, or rich. Security - any time I want I can have plenty to eat. 

“Give us this daily bread” - for we do not depend on bread, or the baker, but on God, and on the Word that comes forth from his mouth. In that Word is life. Ironically, that Word is Jesus himself.

How about Door number Two? Dominion. Subordination. Just worship me and all is yours. Of course that allegiance belongs to God alone. But what has he done for you lately? All the kingdoms of the world. Wealth, power, prestige. And what would you do with them?

Such a temptation was presented to, of all people, Sancho Panza, right-hand man of Don Quixote himself.

The dolorous knight Don Quixote had long assured his faithful squire Sancho Panza that he would some day reward him with governorship of an island, since being a knight errant such gifts would surely be within his power to bestow before much longer in the course of their adventures. And then they met a noble lord who promised to award the island governorship straight away - but before Sancho could go, the knight gave him some astonishingly sound and sober advice, enough to make him as wise as Solomon, as impartial as the judge of the Caucasian Chalk Circle, and as knowing of human nature as the Wife of Bath. 

Judge fairly. Would this be likely, given the provenance of the gift? Worship me - and rule all the kingdoms of the world. Or dispose of them to the highest bidder. Then retire, and play golf. Entertain your buddies, if you think that is what they are, those people who gather around you.

No thanks. Jesus is not interested. “Worship the Lord and him only.” Another opportunity passed by.

At last: come on if you really are - if you really have faith - would not God save you, from whatever scrape you get yourself into? But to be sure - best put him to the test. Put God in the untenable position of saving you - or letting the one he calls Beloved plunge needlessly to his death. Test him. Prove it. Look how well it worked out for Adam and Eve. Take a bite. Or a leap.

But that is not the blind faith, the leap of faith, that persuades Jesus. Nothing does. He sends away all these opportunities, bread, kingdoms, and test, and is left alone. He has nothing but God. 

And that is all he needs.

If that does not prove he is the son of God, what would?

What we see from then on, is Jesus acts of compassion, words of truth to power, and ability to give from apparently nothing but faith a greater abundance, suzerainty, and self-confidence, than any tempter could provide. Strength in faith. 

Give us this daily our daily bread. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. The power, the kingdom, the glory: all are yours O God. 

Those are the three temptations in reverse. Power, Kingdom. Glory. All of which belong to God.

And Jesus is content to rest in the same hands that hold those three realities. 

How do we in our world acknowledge that the power, the kingdom, and the glory belong to God? How do we see that kingdom come in our lives? Our world? Our community? Our church? 

How do we reveal our dependence on God for our daily sustenance, thank him, and share it? How do we share the gifts of providence, thinly spread or overwhelmingly abundant, that we have received?

How do we acknowledge that all things come from him, and in that knowledge offer our gifts?

And do we stop, look at the sunset, or the smile on the face of a neighbor, or the happy sound of a confident child, or the shape of a rose, and remember, that all these reflect the glory of God? How do we render our praise in the face of his majesty, his gentleness, his care, his share in our sorrow and our joys? In little things and big ways, how do we give God the glory?

Finally there is the extra-biblical last Temptation, as imagined by the novelist Nikos Kazantzakis, which Jesus meets with obedience. In the garden of Gethsemane, when he was sweating blood in fearful supplication, let this cup pass from me - but what thou wilt not I - what if, offered an ordinary life, a wife, a family, just some simple things, Jesus had said, yes. But he did not. In fearful obedience, frightening to contemplate, he stood his ground. He kept the faith. 

It goes way back to that first temptation. Because he lived not for himself but for us. He did not betray us for a crust of bread. He did not sell us out to rule as the dominant megalo-monarch. He did not need to prove anything, for himself or for us, and in that he showed the strength of faith that he gave us. He did not surrender to temptation. And he kept the faith to the end. 

God of the desert, as we follow Jesus into the unknown, may we recognize the tempter when he comes; let it be your bread we eat, your world we serve, and you alone we worship. Amen.

(New Zealand Prayer Book, 573)

First Sunday in Lent

• Deuteronomy 26:1-11

• Romans 10:8b-13

• Luke 4:1-13

• Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

He did not betray us for a crust of bread.

--Ladislaus Boros, In Time of Temptation (translated by Simon and Erika Young)

http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent1c.html

https://ctktucson.org/sermons/

https://stmatthewtucson.org/

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote, Part 2, Chapter 52 (?).

Ash Wednesday

Coffin Ship Memorial, Ireland.

https://media.fotki.com/2vzrMuWTx36q9C.jpg

What if it’s not all about me? What if my death is not the only thing to contemplate? Surely this is the day to take up the invitation to meditate upon one’s own mortality. But does not that very invitation lead to wider thoughts? If I am but dust then is not the dust to which I shall return the very same that all mortal beings cling to, are made of, and to which all in their turn revert? 

God promises immortality. Probably not the kind we are waiting for. Unless we are very grand or very humble, we probably have some idea of what we hope eternity holds for us. But we do not know. Nor can we grasp it. 

Like Lincoln on the battlefield, consecrating - or rather, acknowledging the consecration - of that sacred ground at Gettysburg, our own words seem of little significance, if placed beside the suffering, sacrifice, futility, and annihilation awaiting all flesh.

This Monday morning I looked at images, and contemplated words, offered by my friend Suzanne Guthrie, as appropriate for an Ash Wednesday meditation. There was one she left out. 

It was the image of a coffin ship memorial at the foot of the mountain called Croagh Patrick, in western Ireland. No fault of hers. But as I begin to wonder if there is not more to it than me, that is, more to death and life, that image that comes to me from memory more than the internet, comes forward. As with many horrors, there is more to it than can be grasped. And that includes the mortal hope of those on board such a ship that they will survive and reach the new world and a new life. That new world, and that new life, that survivors indeed shared with their descendants. People like me.

When we inventory our antecedents we think sometimes of those who lived. The replete gentleman who could afford accommodation above steerage on his way across the Atlantic. The slaveholder’s son who was shot not fatally at Shiloh. The revolutionary boy, a hale and hearty lad, who did not freeze to death at Valley Forge. The prisoner who did not starve, forgotten. 

Yet all of these could be among our ancestors as they are part of the human family, just as much as those who died on coffin ships or slave ships or desert marches across the southwest. 

Morbid. I know. Because there is also gratitude to be remembered among the dead. We remember some of them, perhaps wrongly: memory is fickle and hope is inventive. And we ourselves must each join the parade, of those who have fallen, forgotten or remembered, honored or not.

Some traditions name a newborn child after someone who has recently died, that their name will live on. This can be an intention to the point of an expected duty. Not to be squandered. We may hope to be among those remembered by others; family, friends, readers of a donor plaque.

But we are remembered, already, where it counts. In the ineffable place in the heart of the universe, in the timeless mind of God. Already if not yet we are present in the heart of God.

That is what Jesus means. Today you will be with me in paradise. You already are. 

Time has no meaning there; there is neither sorrow nor weeping. And when we go to join them, we will, as the poet says, find ourselves welcome in a city we never knew. But it knew us. 

It is the kingdom of God. 

***

Ash Wednesday 

• Joel 2:1-2,12-17
• or Isaiah 58:1-12
• 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
• Matthew 6:1-6,16-21
• Psalm 103 or 103:8-14

http://edgeofenclosure.org/ashwednesday.html

From Sundays and Seasons:

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and ever-living God, you hate nothing you have made, and you forgive the sins of all who are penitent. Create in us new and honest hearts, so that, truly repenting of our sins, we may receive from you, the God of all mercy, full pardon and forgiveness through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Amen.

Prayer of the Day (Alternate)

Gracious God, out of your love and mercy you breathed into dust the breath of life, creating us to serve you and our neighbors. Call forth our prayers and acts of kindness, and strengthen us to face our mortality with confidence in the mercy of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Amen.

The First Day of Lent commonly called Ash Wednesday (BCP 1662)

The Collect

Almighty and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made, and dost forgive the sins of all them that are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we worthily lamenting our sins, and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Dust

Dust

We bless you, O Lord our God, creator of the Universe, for the gift of earth, from whence we come and to which we shall return. We ask your blessing on the ancient peoples who first enjoyed this land and ask your blessing upon us as we join the traditional stewards of this land in its ongoing care. And care for us, Lord, as we contemplate our mortality, our absolute dependence upon you, and as we prepare ourselves for life beyond death in the hope of the resurrection.

Remember that you are dust of the earth and to that earth you shall return.

(Reprinted from sermonoats, Monday, February 15, 2021)

with shining faces

Jesus and the disciples go up the Galilee side of the mountain and come down the Jerusalem side. http://edgeofenclosure.org/epiphanylastc.html

You have to wonder how it felt there. He had walked with them a long way and talked with them and taught them many things and now he was going up the mountain, and he went up the mountain to talk to God. Then later, we learn, he came back down and had some more ordinary experiences, and they had some more ordinary experiences. We could be talking about Moses or Jesus.

When we’re talking about Moses on the mountain, he had lead the people through the desert in an exodus, a departure from Egypt and from slavery, and a departure into freedom and a new land and indeed a new relationship with God – because now their leader had spoken to God face-to-face… that is, had prayed, and then returned to them.

By the time of this episode he had already brought them the 10 “words” or 10 Commandments.

What we see in both this story and the story of the Transfiguration is that it is the experience of the followers, the people who followed their leader, that we are told about.

Moses did not know that his face was shining. They did.

Jesus did not pay any attention to his own appearance. They did.

Jesus like Moses had led his followers on a long wandering walk, and now had gone up the mountain to pray and talk to God.

When his disciples saw him, they saw that his clothes were whiter than an earthly laundromat could make them, and his face was shining.

That is what they saw. That is what they experienced.

And that is what we hear about in both of these two stories that have been read to us this morning. The experience not of the leaders but of their followers.

Like those followers, we recognize that what we have, what we own, is our own experience of what has happened and what it reveals about who our leader is and what their message is to us.

What is astonishing about the stories we heard today, about Moses and Jesus, was the agreement between witnesses, on what had happened and what it meant, though this did not come to them all in a rush at the very moment that it happened. 

The disciples did not at the time even talk about what had happened. Peter, James, and John didn’t say a word to anybody until after Jesus was resurrected.

As you may recall, after they experienced the Resurrection, Mary Magdalene and the other women didn't say a word to anybody at first. 

It took a while to figure out what was really going on below the surface of what had happened, what they had seen and heard and what it meant.

But they, like the men on the mountains, did come away with some experiences, reflected on them, and then taught their insights to others.

A historian at a recent academic conference evaluating a presidency said, “Not surprisingly, people mix their opinion of what they think should have happened with what really did happen.” It takes a while to sort it out.

There is another should that matters today and that is how we should respond to the stories and to what the leaders had passed on to their followers from what they had already taught them on the way and what they brought down with them from the mountain top experience.

And you have to have some sympathy for the leader. 

On his first return from the mountaintop Moses found the people had strayed far from what he had taught them, threw down the first copy of the 10 Commandments in disgust and then had to go back up and ask for another set — from God.

And it was after his mountaintop experience that Jesus had to step in and do what he thought the disciples at this point should’ve been able to do for themselves and heal a child.

But however they responded, however they reacted, however they experienced or recollected their experience or related to it or understood it over time, the disciples of Jesus and the followers of Moses had some questions that would sound very familiar to us today.

Not just : what happened and what did it mean? But also : now what? What is next?

Of course we are not caught in the moment between ascending a mountain from Galilee and then descending toward Jerusalem, or ascending Mount Sinai and then descending toward the promised land. 

When we are at an in-between place, it may not feel like a mountain top to us but rather a valley. Like the Israelites left to their own devices in the camp, or disciples waiting for the Big 4 to return from Mount Tabor.

In some ways, it can be very exciting to be on your own and trying to figure out what was that and what’s coming next.

In other ways, it can be disconcerting and provide a source of anxiety.

In the in-between time, we realize that who our leader was following is the one whom we really need to learn from.

Moses’ face shines as it reflects the glory of God; Jesus’ shines as he reveals the glory of God.

In both of the readings, with Moses and with Jesus, the person who led them on their long wandering, who then went up the mountain to pray to God, was revealed to them as the messenger of God chosen for that moment. In the first case, the leader was Moses, who brought them the 10 ‘words’ of the law. In the second case, it was Jesus who was himself the Word, the embodiment of the reign of God.

So what are we to make of it when leaders are with us for a time and then make their departure?

One thing we know for sure is that they have given us a model to follow, which is whether you up on a mountaintop or down in a valley, to turn our faces toward God – God, where the source of all that light reflected in their faces, shining faces, came from in the first place and we like them should pray.

There is a prayer written, especially for our kind of situation, a prayer for the calling of a new minister, and of course it’s a prayer for them as well as us. Now Moses was certainly not appointing his successor when he was on the mountain, and Jesus simply said after me will come an Advocate to help you and be with you forever— 

What we are expecting is that we will be guided by the Spirit into the future with a new understanding of what we have learned not only from past leaders, but from our God, and we will continue in the teachings and in the prayers. That incidentally is how the disciples carried on. They continued in the teachings and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers: so should we.

Almighty God, giver of every good gift: Look graciously on your Church, and so guide the minds of those who shall choose a rector for this parish, that we may receive a faithful pastor, who will care for your people and equip us for our ministries; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

At this point in the Christian year, we are at the hinge point, the bridge from the revelations of Epiphany season, when the reality of Jesus became more and more apparent;  his true nature shining through and the disciples beginning to grasp it, and what happened once that truth was revealed in one extra extraordinary experience after another. Now crossing into Lent we accompany Jesus as he sets his face – so recently shining – towards Jerusalem and his mission to be accomplished there. 

That mission will end not in defeat but in his glorification and the glory of God his father. And as we seek to follow Jesus, not up the mountain of shining faces but down the road to the events of Holy Week, we seek his face in the darkness of Good Friday as well as in the light of Easter. And God’s glory will be reflected in our faces.

*** 

Last Sunday after the Epiphany

• Exodus 34:29-35
• 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
• Luke 9:28-36, [37-43a]
• Psalm 99

http://edgeofenclosure.org/epiphanylastc.html

* These are the same readings as for the feast of The Transfiguration (August 6) except on that day the Epistle is: 2 Peter 1:13-21 *

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/26/arts/writing-history-biden-presidency-trump-era.html