March 4, 2001

Rev. Eugene Nelson, Jr.

The Community Church of Sebastopol

THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT

Luke 4:1-13

             In December, 1935, Antoine de Saint Exupery, the author of  The Little Prince, on a mail flight between Paris and Saigon, crashed in the Libyan Desert west of the Nile.  He told his story of survival in his classic, Wind, Sand, and Stars.  Over a period of three days he walked 124 miles without water through desert sands, stumbling at last, half-dead, into a remote Bedouin camp.  He should have been dead.  It is said that no one can survive more than nineteen hours in the desert without water.  What saved him were two things.  First, he was meticulously observant of his surroundings, noticing an unusual northeast wind, full of moisture, retarding the dehydration of his body and bringing a light dew he could collect on a parachute silk.  Secondly, he remained stubbornly indifferent to the panic, pain, and despair which preyed upon his mind.  Learning to be fiercely attentive, he learned also not to care - to ignore everything that was unnecessary, everything unrelated to the primary task of staying alive.

             I wonder if there might not be a message in his story for us as we begin our Lenten journey.  Everything today demands our attention, instantly if not sooner.  But does everything deserve our attention?  And, in the midst of the world’s clamor, could we be missing something we ought to be paying attention to?  What might it mean for us to be “fiercely attentive?”

             Lent always begins with the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness - 40 days of fasting and testing.  I suspect there aren’t too many people here this morning who spend 40 days fasting in the desert on a regular basis.  But there are deep Biblical memories of testing in the wilderness.

             The children of Israel wandering 40 years in the wilderness before finally learning to trust God.

            The prophet, Elijah, spending 40 days in the wilderness before finally hearing that still small voice.

            Moses, 40 days in the wilderness on the mountain until finally listening and receiving God’s call.      And then Jesus.  Interesting, all the others meet God in the wilderness.  Jesus encounters Satan.  I’ll have more to say about that in a moment.

             But first, why the wilderness?  Those of you who were involved with scouting or know scouting are no doubt familiar with the Order of the Arrow - an honorary group within scouting.  You join by meeting certain requirements, undergoing certain tests. In the Phoenix area, our Order of Arrow was the Wipala Wiki Lodge.  Wipala Wiki was an actual person - a Hopi Indian.  I don’t remember much about becoming a member of our Order of the Arrow lodge except for one thing - the last test.  Every candidate for membership had to spend a night alone in the forest - about 12 to 14 hours.  As I recall, I had a bed roll and some water - that was about it. I don’t even think they let us have a flashlight.  A night alone in the woods, in unfamiliar woods.  Quite an adventure for a boy raised in suburban Phoenix.  It’s dark out there, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night.  That is when you find out something about who you are.  That is when you find out what you really miss and what you are really afraid of.  You learn what your pacifiers are - the habits, the substances, the things, the surroundings you use to comfort yourself with, even to block out pain and fear, even  to hide yourself from yourself.  There, you encounter the world without anesthesia, without its diversions, you learn something of what life is like with no comforts you learn something of what you are like when you are the only company you have.  You even begin to feel some empty spaces - some hungers that suddenly cannot be pacified.   That’s the way it is…in the wilderness.  You might very well encounter the Holy.  But what is even more frightening, you might very well encounter yourself.

             I think it was the second Star Wars film - “The Empire Strikes Back”.  I remember that Luke Skywalker is in training to be a Jedi Knight.  He goes off to a wilderness planet far away from everywhere and there he meets the Jedi master, Yoda, and undergoes training. At one point in his training, a little earlier than Yoda wanted him to, Luke goes off into the wilderness of this wilderness planet on kind of a vision quest.   He has a vision.  He encounters Darth Vader, his sworn enemy, the one who has given himself over to the “dark side of the Force”.  He and Vader engage in combat and Luke defeats him.  He kills him.  Now, as you remember, we never see the face of Darth Vader.  He has this huge mask and helmet.  After defeating Vader, Luke bends down and takes off the helmet.  What he sees staring back at him is his own face.  He meets his deepest and darkest self.  The immortal words of Pogo come to mind:  “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

             In the wilderness, we are told Jesus meets Satan, but the more I read and reflect on this familiar story, the more I am convinced that what we really have here is an account of the struggle raging deep within Jesus’ own soul.  He’s at war with himself.  Which path will he take?  Will he live his life on the world’s terms or God’s terms?  What or who is going to get his attention:  Will it be the easy path of the world, or the narrow path of God which leads inevitably to a cross.

             The story is told of the father of a seven year old boy who suggested that his son give up something for Lent.  The boy asked, “What are you and mom giving up?”  “Liquor,” replied the father.  “But what were you and mom drinking before dinner?”  “That was sherry,” said the father.  “We gave up hard liquor.”  The boy thought about this for a moment, then said, “Well, then, I’ll give up hard candy!”

             That is too often the popular view of Lent - nothing too serious, perhaps a time of minor inconvenience.  And yet I hear our text suggesting something more, something deeper.  I hear it suggesting that Lent is a time to venture with Jesus into the wilderness; a time of listening and being open; a time for being receptive to God’s will and way for our lives; a time for reflecting on just who is going to get our attention.

             Is it just hard candy for Lent?  Or are we ready to step into the wilderness with Christ?  We do love the things of the world.  We place so much confidence in them.  They give us what feels like security.  They are comfortable.  They fill so many of our empty spaces. They lead us to believe that all this is pretty good and that we can get along pretty well without God. 

             But are we truly secure?  Are we truly filled?  One author says:  “I am convinced that 99 percent of us are addicted to something, whether it is eating, shopping, blaming or even taking care of other people.  The simplest definition of an addiction is anything we use to fill the empty space inside of us that belongs to God alone.”  She adds, “Nothing on earth can fill it, but that does not stop us from trying.  Whenever we start feeling too empty inside we stick our pacifiers into our mouths and suck for all we are worth.  They do not nourish us, but at least they plug the hole.  To enter the wilderness is to leave them behind.”

             It’s a tough choice…going into the wilderness, to that place where we might meet God, where I might find myself face to face with me.  It’s tough to commit ourselves to taking the time for worship, for prayer, for listening and being open to God, to what God might have in mind for us, especially if it isn’t my own mind.  It’s tough to turn away from all our comfortable addictions.  But that is precisely the invitation of Lent.  I guess it does involve giving something up after all.

             Flannery O’Connor told a story about a little girl who loved to visit the convent and the sisters.  But every time the nun gave her a hug, the crucifix on Sister’s belt got mashed into the child’s face.  The gesture of love always left a mark.

             On our Lenten journeys, we discover our true identity or, better yet, it is imprinted upon us.  God’s love leaves a mark.  It’s unknown territory, often fearful territory.  But know this:  it’s a journey we make together, and we follow in the footsteps of the One who has already completed the course.  So many choices.  Let’s not settle for less.