March 9, 2014
Who am I and How Do I Relate to the World?
- Matthew 4:1-11
- Dr. Teri Thomas
A poet by the name of Andrew King wrote a reflection on this morning’s Gospel reading called “Desert Lesson” (http://earth2earth.wordpress.com/)
DESERT LESSON (Matthew 4: 1-11)
It is the empty time just before morning,
the light just beginning to touch
the tops of the hills,
just beginning to palm the skins
of the desert stones.
First one stone and then another
begins to change colour as
in slow grandeur
the sun lifts
into red-orange sky.
First one stone and then another
emerges from shadow,
small solitudes of darkness
in the solitude of wilderness
in the emptiness of early morning.
Jesus is awake, blankets clutched
to keep out the cold
while he sits and watches stars
fade in the spreading dawn.
Hunger gnaws at his belly
like a dog chewing a bone.
Looking at a stone, he thinks,
How like a loaf of bread
this rock appears.
How comforting such food would be. . .
Lifting his head in the direction
of the Holy City, Jesus pictures
the sunrise on the rooftops of the Temple,
gleaming in the light like
the spires of marble mountains.
He imagines his feet astride
that proud building’s pinnacle
and himself not weak but mighty,
not being hungry but full,
not vulnerable,
not breakable should I fall. . .
The wind begins to rise, stirs
the dry and scrawny grasses.
Jesus ponders the passage
of time, the rise and fall
of kingdoms, the tides
of marching armies,
the endless quests for power
that sweep up people and nations
like sands in a desert wind.
He imagines himself
at the head of
a host of armoured thousands,
lands and nations to serve me
like the Pharoahs, like David,
like Caesar ruling from Rome. . .
Jesus sighs, and stands and stretches,
a solitary and hungry
yet somehow satisfied man,
and folds the dusty blankets.
He will not bid the stones
turn to bread today
to ease his pressing hunger:
for the hungry and poor
of the world cannot,
and he is in the world
to bear their burden.
He will not evade
frail humanness today,
or deny his utter mortality,
for even the mighty
of the world cannot,
and he is in the world
to bear their burden.
He will not seek the throne of a kingdom today,
selfish wealth or glory:
for the outcasts and hurting of the world cannot,
and he is in the world to bear their burden.
Day has come to the wilderness around him.
The sun is full and blazing.
Saying, “Get away from me, Satan,”
Jesus starts to walk from the desert testing
toward the towns and the cities
where his ministry of love will begin.
His feet leave firm prints in the sand.
When Jesus was baptized
a voice seemed to come from the clouds
saying- You are my beloved son.
That’s one way to figure out your identity I guess.
While we tend to think of our identity as highly personal
and something we developed, discovered, or even created on our own,
it seems that our identity is actually formed by our relationships.
When I was visiting my grandson a few weeks ago
we did that routine of trying to figure out who everyone is
in relation to everyone else.
So who am I- daddy’s mommy
Who is grandma Beth? Mommy’s mommy.
Who is Aunt Laura? Mommy’s sister.
It reminds us how incredibly and entirely relational our identity is.
I can’t be a mother without a child, a teacher without students, a citizen without a country of other citizens, a pastor without a congregation, and so forth.
Pretty much everything I might say about myself involves others,
and what I call “my identity”
actually grows out of the relationships I enjoy with others.
Jesus resists temptation not through an act of brute force or sheer will, but rather by taking refuge in an identity founded and secured
through his relationship with God,
a relationship that implies absolute dependence on God
and identification with all others.
Jesus’ relationship with God
defines his relationship with the world.
His dependence on God
his total dependence on God
determines his way of life.
Dependent has come to have a sometimes negative connotation.
A person who is dependent is weak or unskilled,
unable to care for themselves.
But Jesus shows us dependence in a different light.
If we look through scripture we see over and over again
that we really are called to be dependent.
God called Abram to be the father of many nations
and then gave him a barren wife.
God called Moses to lead his people to the Promised Land
and then made them wander in the wilderness for 40 years.
God called Gideon to defeat the Midianites
and then took away Gideon’s army and its weapons.
God called Mary to be the mother of the Messiah
but did not give her a husband (until it was too late).
We live in the illusion of control.
But ultimately our own efforts fail us.
You know this if you have ever been in a sail boat.
If you are sailing and find yourself in trouble,
you must just let go of everything –
the tiller and the sheet (the line that controls the sail).
If you let go, the boat will right itself.
If you don’t- you’ll get wet at the very least.
This season of Lent is a time for us to learn to let go.
Our fear and lack of trust cause us to hang on to the controls.
But our true security is in letting go.
It is only in letting go
and trusting God,
actually depending on God,
that our lives will be steadied.
Who are you? A beloved child of God.
How do you relate to the world? In total dependence on that God.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.