Luke
4:1-13
1
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the
Spirit in the wilderness, 2 where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.
He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was
famished. 3 The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command
this stone to become a loaf of bread." 4 Jesus answered him, "It is
written, "One does not live by bread alone.' " 5 Then the devil led
him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6 And the
devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority;
for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7 If you,
then, will worship me, it will all be yours." 8 Jesus answered him,
"It is written, "Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'
" 9 Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle
of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself
down from here, 10 for it is written, "He will command his angels
concerning you, to protect you,' 11 and "On their hands they will bear you
up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.' " 12 Jesus
answered him, "It is said, "Do not put the Lord your God to the
test.' " 13 When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him
until an opportune time.
In
Davidson, North Carolina, there’s a statue out in front of St. Alban’s
Episcopal Church that, in the glow of a car’s oncoming headlights or the fading
light of dusk, looks eerily real—so real in fact, it has caused some folks in
the community to call the police! It’s a figure of a man, lying on a bench,
wrapped in a blanket, with his bare, wounded feet exposed to the world, giving
away his identity. It’s a statue called “Jesus the Homeless,” a sculpture by
the Canadian artist Timothy Schmalz (himself a devout Catholic), and it was
paid for by a member of St. Alban’s in memory of another member of the parish
who had died. The statue seems out of place to some, because Davidson is a
rather wealthy community, a place where homeless men sleeping on benches is an
extremely rare site (if it’s ever seen at all). It seems out of place to others,
however, because they find it to be an inappropriate depiction of Christ.
One
member of the community (who also happened to be one of those who called the
police about the homeless man sleeping on the bench) said about the image of a
homeless Jesus, “Jesus is not a vagrant, Jesus is not a helpless person who
needs our help…We need someone who is capable of meeting our needs, not someone
who is also needy.” She isn’t the only one who doesn’t like the depiction of
Jesus as a homeless man sleeping on a park bench. The sculpture has caused
controversy just about everywhere it’s been installed, and two Catholic
parishes (one in New York and one in Toronto) completely refused to have the
sculpture on the premises.[1] I
suppose I understand: after all, who wants to picture Jesus as a homeless man,
sleeping on a park bench, without even a blanket big enough to cover his
scarred feet?
I
mean, if you’re going to build a statue of Jesus in front of your church, it
seems to me like you’d do what they did in front of the Solid Rock Church in
Monroe, Ohio. There, on the east side of Interstate 75, in front of the
megachurch’s outdoor amphitheater is a 62-foot tall, metal-framed, Styrofoam
and fiberglass statue of Jesus. He’s sculpted from the chest up, his arms
stretched upwards in an act of worship, with his head lifted high and his eyes
fixed on heaven.[2]
That’s how you ought to depict Jesus: in a moment of praise, confident, pious,
victorious.
Or
maybe you construct a statue like they did in Poland. “Christ the King” is the
tallest statue of Jesus in the world (if you include the mound it’s constructed
on). At 172 feet tall (again, counting the mound), this statue of Jesus shows
him with his arms stretched out to a needy world, a royal cape on his stone
shoulders, and a golden crown on his head. His face is fixed forward, with an
expression of stern benevolence.[3] That’s
how you depict Jesus, filled with royal nobility and power, arms open wide to
welcome those who come seeking his royal help.
Nobody
wants to think of Jesus lying cold and alone on a bench somewhere. No one likes
to imagine Jesus wrapped in a tattered blanket, hiding his unkempt hair, his
scruffy beard, dirty fingernails, and bad breath. No! I want a clean Jesus—a
triumphant Jesus, a Christ whose head wears the crown of heaven, whose hands
wield the power of creation, whose countenance shines so brightly that those
around him have to sport Ray-Bans or turn away. I don’t want a Jesus who has
any sign of weakness and dependence. I mean, who wants to think of Jesus that
way? Cold? Hungry? Alone?
Seems
to me like the gospels do, because Luke says, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit,
returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for
forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those
days, and when they were over, he was famished.” Jesus is in the
wilderness. He’s alone. He’s fasted for forty days (a long time), and now, he’s
hungry. Jesus? Hungry? The same one who would go on to feed thousands of people
from a little boy’s sack lunch? The same Jesus who would turn water into wine?
The same Jesus who would eat with all kinds of saints and sinner, the same
Jesus who said that he and the Father are one, the same Jesus who we believe to
be fully divine…THAT Jesus…is hungry? Seems a bit odd to me, if I’m honest with
you, but then again, I’ve never really been hungry before, so it’s hard for me
to imagine what it’s like for anyone to really
be hungry.
Oh
sure, I’ve gone without something to eat before. There have been days when I’ve
been too wrapped up in doing something, and I haven’t eaten until supper, and
when I sit down at the table, my stomach growling, I say, “Man, I’m starving!”
But I’m not, not really. Yeah, there have even been times in my life where I
didn’t eat for as many as two days. I remember the first meal I ate after those
two days—a discounted, gas station hot dog with all of the condiments I could
squeeze on it from the little, plastic packages: to this day it was the best
meal I’ve ever eaten. But I wasn’t really
hungry. No, if I’m honest with you, I don’t really know what it’s like
to be hungry, to not have enough to eat, to not know where my next meal is
coming from, to have trouble sleeping at night from the growling and the cramps
caused by an empty—truly empty—stomach…but Jesus does.
But
you know, Jesus could’ve done something about it. Even the Devil seems to know
that. “The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone
to become a loaf of bread.’" Had the thought never crossed his
mind? It does sound like something Jesus could
do, so why hadn’t he done it? Why would the Son of God continue to go hungry,
to stroll around in the wilderness with his stomach cramping? Would it have
honestly been a sin for him to have turned a rock or two into a dinner roll or
at least a tortilla? Why not turn a stone into bread, or at least pray for God
to rain down some of that manna the Israelites had in the wilderness, you know,
way back there in the Old Testament? Well, Jesus’ response sheds some light on
his reasoning. Verse 4 says, “Jesus
answered him, ‘It is written, "One does not live by bread alone.”’”
Now,
I know—I know—that’s a good answer: “One does not live by bread alone” (and the
passage Jesus is referencing goes on to say, “but by every word that comes from
the mouth of the Lord”).[4]
It’s a good answer, because it speaks to the greater, spiritual necessities of
existence, to a reality that is above and beyond this mortal life: one can’t
truly live if one is only biologically surviving by the consumption of food.
Yet I can’t help but believe there’s more to why Jesus didn’t turn that stone
into bread, why he didn’t snap his fingers to fill his aching stomach. But we
don’t have long to linger on such thoughts before the devil throws another
temptation at Christ.
Verse five tells us: “Then
the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the
world. And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this
authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If
you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’" Again, Jesus
has a quick, Bible-based answer for the devil in verse 8: “Jesus answered him, ‘It is written,
"Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'” Now, I’m not
sure that’s the best way to respond to such a temptation from the devil. I
mean, think about it for a minute: the devil is telling Jesus—the Son of God,
God Incarnate, the second person of the Trinity, the One who was in the
beginning with God, who was God—the devil is telling this Jesus that he’ll hand
over the glory and authority of these kingdoms if he’ll worship him? That’d be
like one of you coming over to my house this afternoon, walking me down the
hall and into each room and saying you’d let me have the whole place if I just
compliment how nice your shoes are! It’s foolish! The devil really thinks he
has all this power and authority and Jesus has to bow to him in order to
receive it?!
Why
doesn’t Jesus just put him in his place?! Why doesn’t he laugh in his face,
grab him by the ear like a scolding grandmother would and say something like,
“listen you old dumb devil; the authority isn’t yours to give in the first
place, so hit the bricks with all these promises, because I’m already the man
in charge. Get it?” Why respond with more words from Deuteronomy?[5]
Why talk about the exclusive worship and service to God when faced with such a
laughable temptation as power, specifically, the power one already possesses?
Maybe Jesus’s response isn’t about who holds the power in the first place:
maybe it’s a reorientation of what power and authority actually look like.
Maybe…but before we can think on it too much, the devil whisks Jesus away to
show him one final temptation behind curtain number three.
In
verses 9-11, Luke tells us: “Then
the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple,
saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for
it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,” and
"On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot
against a stone.”’" This time, the devil has his own Bible verses
to quote (which should serve as a lesson to those of us who think it’s somehow
enough to sling verses of Scripture at others without any sort of actual
context!). He quotes from the Ninety-first Psalm of how God will command angels
to protect Jesus; how they would even keep him from scratching his foot on a
rock should he jump off the highest point of the temple. Now this is more like
a temptation, an opportunity to showboat, to prove just how special Jesus is.
To demonstrate his deity to the devil, Jesus could simply jump off the temple
and let angels catch him. To this blatant attempt at temptation, Jesus responds
again from Deuteronomy: "It is said, Do not put the Lord your
God to the test.’"[6]
With that last refusal of temptation, the devil leaves Jesus (until he shows
back up with Judas later on),[7]
yet I still wonder why Jesus didn’t do, why he didn’t just jump, laughing at
the devil while angels carried him to safety.
When
it comes right down to it, I suppose I wonder why Jesus did a lot of things the
way he did them. Why be born to a couple of nobodies in a backwater, redneck
town like Bethlehem and Nazareth? Seems to me it would have made more sense to
be born in the palace of Rome, to have a direct line to the world power, to
bring God’s kingdom through the already-established power and infrastructure of
the Roman Empire. I wonder….
And
why call a bunch of untrained, unqualified, folks to be your students, your
successors in your life’s work? Why not choose the ones with the training and
knowledge, those who could not only read the Scriptures but quote them, those
who had connections, those who had the money? Why on earth would anyone want to
call a bunch of folks as disciples who are constantly screwing up and getting
it wrong? I wonder…
Then
there’s the whole notion of the cross, of suffering, pain, and death, of
selfless love and sacrifice. I have to tell you, that’s not going to fill any
auditorium with eager listeners. That’s not going to get the folks with deep
pockets to fork over the funds to keep the ministry going. That kind of message
leaves with no support when the days grow dark, when the authorities throw the
book at you, when they drive the nails in your hands and feet—that kind of
message doesn’t show the world the kind of power that can turn rocks into
bread, or bend the knees of empires, or keep one from pain.
And
maybe that’s the point.
Maybe
Christ doesn’t turn the stone into bread because he’s concerned about a higher,
spiritual way of life, or maybe it’s because Christ’s love for us is so great
he’s willing to know what it’s like to be truly hungry. Maybe Jesus doesn’t
worship the devil in order to receive the glory and power of the kingdoms of
the world because he already possesses them, or maybe in rejecting the false
worship of the devil, Christ shows us that the depth of his love reaches to
even the most powerless, even those who suffer under the weight of others’
authority. And maybe Jesus refuses to jump off the temple to show the devil
that he will not be tempted, or maybe he turns down the protection of angels in
order to feel his feet dash against the rocks, to feel the sting from a raw
sunburn, the shivering cold of a winter’s night, the lash of a whip, and the
unimaginable pain of the nails of crucifixion.
Maybe
the lesson we are to take from this telling of Jesus’ temptation in the
wilderness by the devil on this first Sunday in Lent, is this: before Jesus
ever calls a disciple, before he ever works any miracles, before he even utters
one word of one parable or sermon,[8] he
is tempted just as we are tempted, but what is more is that in his rejection of
the devil’s temptations, Jesus shows us the way of God’s Kingdom, the way of
the cross, and it is a way of self-denial and sacrifice. For we have the
picture before us of a Jesus who has felt the truest hunger, a Christ who has
felt what it means to be powerless, a God who has experienced the most severe
pain one can imagine. Before us is NOT the Christ with the golden crown upon
his head, the scepter in his hand, outstretched arms of power and authority.
Before us is the Jesus who knows our every sin, hurt, doubt, and fear. Before
us is a Lord who has wept with us, laughed with us, hurt with us, starved with
us, sweated in the heat with us, and shivered in the cold with us. Ever before
us is the Jesus who wraps himself in a blanket to lie down on a bench—his feet
exposed—to remind us that even when we are at our lowest, he is there with us
(that the truth of the gospel is NOT that wherever God is, there is no
suffering, BUT that wherever there is suffering, there God is). Amen.
[1]
You can read more about this story here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/04/17/homeless-jesus-sculpture-davidson_n_5167418.html
(last accessed 2/12/16)
[3] http://10mosttoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/christ_the_king_poland.jpg
(last accessed 2/12/16)
[4]
Deuteronomy 8:3
[5]
Deuteronomy 6:13
[6]
Deuteronomy 6:16
[7]
Luke 22:3
[8]
One could argue he was teaching in the temple as a boy in the second chapter of
Luke…
