SERMON PREACHED BY
THE REVEREND DR HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR
CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA
ON THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT
13 FEBRUARY 2005

 
"Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil." (Matthew 4:1)
 
You may remember that a few years ago, there was a TV show, one of the early entries in the Reality TV sweepstakes, called "Temptation Island." Most people resisted the temptation to watch it, apparently, so it was rather short-lived. In each episode, a planeload of couples (who were committed to each other but not necessarily married) is dumped on an island, and then separated from each other. They are then thrown into what we old-fashioned types would call compromising situations. Then their behavior is closely watched to see if they will throw caution to the wind and succumb to temptation, forgetting about their partners. I don't remember how it was determined who "wins." Is it those who have as many affairs as are mathematically possible, or those who manage to resist the temptation to do so? I, for one, prefer the older and more popular "Fantasy Island," in which Ricardo Montalban assisted visitors to paradise in realizing fantasies that could be discussed in polite society, the living out of which always resulted in a clear moral triumph of good over evil.
 
Today's Gospel is about the Temptation of Jesus, which takes place neither on Temptation Island nor Fantasy Island, but in the wilderness, the desert. Now the Greek word eremos means a place, not necessarily arid, but which is always uninhabited. But its secondary meaning is that of a person who is desolate, deprived of friends and community. It is the root of the English word "hermit." So here is Jesus, without his disciples, without his retinue, without any followers, bereft of the crowds that clamored to see him and women desiring to touch the hem of his garment. There was nobody to heal, nobody to raise from the dead. Jesus was so lonely he probably would have been happy even to have had a few meddlesome Pharisees around. His desert experience is the absolute antithesis to the event which immediately preceded it ---- his Baptism, presided over by his cousin John the Baptist, attended by hordes of people, and at which the booming voice comes from a cloud expressing divine favor on his beloved Son.
 
Jesus is tempted by the Devil three times. In the first, Jesus is hungry, or "an hungred," as the King James Version puts it. But Jesus' hunger is not like the craving we have in our stomachs just before dinnertime, when we haven't had a morsel since lunch. No, Jesus, as today's translation correctly reports, was famished. Now as you know, it is my penchant to preach on things about which I know nothing, like physics, wrestling and fishing, so today we can add hunger to that list. I am told that real hunger can alter the personality, warp people's judgment, and can drive its victims to such desperate lengths, that rational human beings are reduced to abject bestiality. Now the Devil, with an MBA with a major in marketing, is no fool. He offers the hungry Jesus bread. But he doesn't open a wrapper and produce a baguette from Prantl's. No, he tries to entice Jesus to use his powers to turn stones into bread. Jesus turns the devil down, quoting Scripture in the process.
 
In that first temptation, the Devil offers survival. Now survival literally means the process of staying alive, keeping body and soul together, just making it, eking out an existence. So we believe, therefore, that Mr. Hugo's character, Jean Valjean, should not have been punished so harshly for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving family. The question for us today is how do we define survival. How much do we actually need? It depends on whom you ask. How big a wardrobe? How many cars? How many homes? How much money? A priest I know was introducing the concept of tithing to a successful young Wall Street type who pulled down half a million a year. The priest explained that it means giving away ten per cent of one's earnings. "I couldn't possibly afford to do that," said the ambitious junior executive. "You mean," asked the priest, that you couldn't live on four hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year?" And films and TV shows (which mirror, lest we forget, real life) depicting the New Golden Rule of doing unto others before they do unto you, are replete with examples of how people compromise their beliefs, tweak their ethics, and otherwise sell their souls for more money, a corner office, or a key to the executive washroom.
 
The second temptation is more subtle than the first, but no less real. The Devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the Temple in Jerusalem, the most holy place on earth, the place where Jahweh is worshipped daily, the place to which pilgrims flock for the high holy days, and the Devil challenges Jesus that if he is indeed the Son of God, to throw himself down. And the Devil can quote Scripture too, you know. He tells Jesus, if I may paraphrase, "Not to worry. Your Bible says that angels will come to your aid, and will not even let your foot get scratched on a stone." In other words, "Won't your Heavenly Father suspend the laws of gravity for you, his beloved Son?" This was no schoolyard dare; it was a direct affront to Jesus' identity. He was asked to prove his divinity by, in effect, performing a trick. But instead, he refuses, reminding Satan that the Lord God is not to be put to the test.
 
Our identities are important to us --- we are white or black, straight or gay, Yankees or Southerners, Steelers fans or Jets fans. We are East Enders or North Hillians. We are Presbyterians or Episcopalians (and if Episcopalians, then a member of one sub-group or another --- low and lazy, broad and hazy, high and crazy!) In certain circumstances our identities are a hindrance. So we are stripped of them when we enter prison or a convent or become slaves. This is why a first class passenger, the CEO of a major company was so irate one day when US Airways announced a three-hour delay in his flight, a delay that would cost him time and money. He stormed up to the podium, ranting and raving about the inconvenience caused him, and ended his tirade by asking the agent, "Do you know who I am?" The unflappable agent turned on the P.A. system and announced to the entire airport, "Attention, passengers. We need your assistance. There is a gentleman here at Gate 36 who doesn't know who he is."
 
The third temptation is ingenious, and we must give the Devil his due for saving it for last. The devil takes Jesus up to the top of a mountain, shows him all the kingdoms of the world, a world that belongs to the Devil, by the way, and offers them to Jesus if only the Lord would fall down and worship the Devil. But Jesus preached yet another little sermon for the Devil, and refused that offer, too. The Devil's offer was not simply the largest potential real estate deal since the beginning of time; it was the offer of raw and unadulterated power. Power seems to be as much a human need as survival. For the hunger for power, too, can alter the personality, warp judgment, and drive human beings to desperate lengths. The two movies I saw recently are both about power --- "Hotel Rwanda" tells the story of the power struggle between two African tribes, set an enmity in the first place by the colonial powers who had successfully applied the "divide and conquer" rule ---- and "The Aviator," the story of Howard Hughes, who went mad, caught as he was, in the vortex of power among the motion picture and aviation industries and the United States Government. Closer to home, there are power struggles even in the bosom of holy mother church. Under the guise of obedience to Scripture, tradition and authority, the centers of Anglicanism are vying for power ----- Lonson vs. Lagos; New York vs. Ambridge. I guess when the game is over, the bishop with the most dioceses wins!
 
Survival, Power, Identity. An unholy trinity, perhaps. This is what the Devil offers Jesus, for a costly price, mind you, and this is what Jesus resists. But this Gospel lesson is not just about resisting temptation, avoiding sin. It is about confrontation. Jesus confronts his temptations. This is the message in one of my favorite hymns, which, by definition, means it is no longer in the Hymnal:
Christian, dost thou see them, on the holy ground,
How the powers of darkness rage thy steps around?
Christian, up and smite them, counting gain but loss,
In the strength that cometh by the holy Cross (Hymn 556, The Hymnal 1940)
 
The successful struggle against temptation in all its insidious forms is more than merely saying "Satan, get thee behind." And it is certainly not accomplished by reciting an appropriate verse from the Bible. Jesus did not avoid the devil, nor did he dismiss or underestimate him; rather he contended with him. A hymn which is still in the Hymnal, thankfully, puts it this way:
As thou with Satan didst contend,
And dist the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin. (Hymn 142, The Hymnal 1982)
 
But we must not only confront the Devil, we must confront ourselves, who manage to cloak our shortcomings in such clever ways as to transform them into virtues. You see, our egos, our ambitions, our fears, are far more formidable foes than the Devil. What? You don't believe in the Devil? Some would say that convincing you that he doesn't exist is his first trick. But I simply say, "Remove the 'd.'" At our baptisms, we are asked "Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?" Now if we don't believe there are evil powers in this world, we really need a reality check! Perhaps I have told you about the time I was invited to officiate at the baptism of a friend's baby, in a parish that will remain nameless. As the rector prepared the parents and godparents for the service, we got to the question, "Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?" the rector announced, "We don't say that here. Nobody believes in the devil and all that stuff any more." I was aghast and resisted the temptation to initiate charges of heresy against my misguided colleague. (It is not surprising that the rector left the ministry six months later to become a tennis pro!)
 
Martin Luther certainly believed in the Devil. Nearly half of his great hymn, Ein Feste Burg, which we will sing at the end of today's service, is about him. Luther may well have had in mind Jesus' encounter with Satan when he wrote these words:
And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us;
We will not fear, for God hath willed his truth to triumph through us;
The prince of darkness grim, we tremble not for him:
His rage we can endure, for lo! His doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him. (Hymn 688, The Hymnal 1982)
That unholy trinity of the temptations to survival, identity and power is seductive. As we keep this season of Lent, let us confront it as we invoke the Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.