Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent

+In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

I’ve heard it said that the three most dangerous words in the English language are “I got this.” It is certainly physically dangerous in certain situations. I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but it’s reported that Harry Houdini expressed his disbelief in the miracles of the bible right before saying that he could easily take the punches to the abdomen that either killed him or hastened his death.

Those words, “I got this” are even more spiritually perilous. “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall” warns the Proverbs. While that book is sometimes criticized for its tedious nature and purportedly limited applicability, those few words of universal wisdom strike me as sufficient warrant for the book’s inclusion in the biblical canon. (Not that I or anybody necessarily has a right to question the canon, but it is something that happens.)

“I got this” may be translated as “I will wrest control from the providential hand of God, because I think I can manage things better.” This is the primordial sin we see in Genesis, and it is the climax of of Satan’s failed attempt to cause our Lord, the Second Adam, to fall in the wilderness.

I think the ordering of the temptations is significant. First, an apparently minor trespass (you’re hungry, give in), than the mot-and-bailey approach—Not comfortable making yourself a God by commanding the angels? Surely a little idol worship (I’ll be your idol) isn’t quite as flagrant, and the reward will be tremendous. Perhaps the tempter had succeeded in this gambit so many times he was sure he’d succeed again. The primordial history of the first half of Genesis is full of failed attempts human beings made to be like Gods (to succeed where Adam failed), and then the whole rest of the Old Testament shifts its condemnations to idolatry. Casting a metal God is a lot easier than trying to build a tower to heaven or procreate with fallen angels, after all, and one can convince oneself it’s not really such a big deal, relatively speaking.

The cunning nature of sin is that what appears to be categorically different can in fact be different in degree rather than nature. For what is idolatry, but the natural recourse of the one who has failed at self-deification? My trying to be God didn’t work, so let’s try to make this stone or tree stump a God instead. It seems absurd, but these are the lengths we can go to retain the illusion of control.

I already talked a lot about Lenten disciplines and their spiritual nature on Ash Wednesday, but I want to briefly expand on that theme in light if this reality. I said that the end is to strengthen our reliance on God, not to give us an accomplishment to be proud of; and that disciplines should best be undertaken with this, their proper end in mind. This means that sometimes the most instructive aspect is failing at them, failure typically being more spiritually beneficial than success.

I’ll go a step further. Lent is not about adopting a self-improvement regimen. If we are improved in some respect in the long-term because of a discipline—becoming healthier, becoming more generous, learning more about the bible—this is a good thing. But the primary purpose, I think, of fasting and prayer and almsgiving, is to strengthen our bond with our Lord so that we might rely on him all the more. When the inevitable fall comes—I’ve yet to meet the person who doesn’t have at least an occasional slip in morality or in devotion—we can then be assured that the fall won’t be so great as it might have been, and God is near at hand to pick us back up.

There is a counterpart to the very last verse of this morning’s Old Testament, that I really love. We left Adam and Eve, ashamed and covering their nakedness with fig leaves, a rather shabby and impractical ensemble. After God comes and passes judgment, though, he does not leave it there. Before expelling them from the Garden, he himself fashions for Adam and Eve clothes made from the skins of animals. This shows, I think, that as much as we may disappoint God and experience consequences, the punishment is never as severe as the crime. God’s wrath quickly abates and he provides loving care the moment we need it most.

Christ, of course, does not fall. He has proved by the end of our Gospel lesson, that the Second Adam succeeds in temptation’s hour and foreshadows the fact that he will persevere to the last. But if he had fallen prey to temptation(what a horrible prospect, and whether or not it would have been possible is a difficult Christological question, but consider it for a moment) I suspect the angels would still have come to minister to him in the desert. That’s just how gracious God is.

So, like Luther said “be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly.” Now, I’m not Lutheran enough to take that literally. Don’t set out with the intention of sinning. But you’re going to do it, I guarantee you. And when you do, Christ’s Grace remains available if only you repent and return, no matter how often. I, for one, am a frequent-flier when it comes to receiving God’s grace in this way. And every time, God has clothed me again and sent his holy angels to minister to me. He will do the same for you.

+In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.