What I learned today - Preaching My Way to Faith: Sermon - Desert Journey (Lent 1

FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR B February 22, 2015

Genesis 9:8-17; I Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15 Panzer Liturgical Service

Desert Journey

The season of Lent grew out of the ancient church’s practice of holding baptisms at Easter. Prior to their baptisms, converts to the faith were expected to go through an intensive period of repentance, self-examination, prayer, and preparation for their new life in Christ. That period could sometimes last as long as three years; but the final forty days before Easter were always the most important. Our lessons for the First Sunday in Lent reflect those central themes of baptism and preparation for new life.

The reading from Genesis is the finale of the Flood story, when God makes a covenant with Noah, his offspring, and every living creature that accompanies them off the ark. In this new covenant, God promises never again to use destructiveness as a creative tool.

In the passage from 1 Peter, the writer draws a parallel between the promise God made after the flood (I will never destroy the earth) with the new covenant of baptism in Christ (I will make all things new). Jesus overcame sin not by flooding it or destroying it, but by transforming it through his own death and resurrection. To be baptized is to be taken up into this re-creative work in the world.[i]

We have visited the baptism of Jesus already once this year, but as a reminder, for Mark, the Gospel story doesn’t begin with angelic visitors or a prophetic dream. There is no miraculous birth – no poetic hymn to the incarnate Word. No soaring prose, no travelers from the East, no expensive gifts, no awestruck shepherds, no jealous, brooding king. Instead, Mark’s Gospel hurls us, ready or not, into a lonely and barren wilderness— a desert— where everything either bites or burns or stings.

It’s hard to imagine a more dramatic moment than the baptism of Jesus. As he emerged from the water, the heavens ripped open and the Spirit descended like a dove while the voice of God proclaimed, “You are my beloved Son, in you I am well-pleased!" This, truly, would be a moment to savor— A moment to remember and celebrate. And yet, almost immediately, Jesus was driven out into the desert to be tormented by wild beasts and tempted by evil.

It’s not exactly what you would expect, is it? After all, God was pleased— no… make that WELL pleased with Jesus. But this beloved son was driven directly from a moment of affirmation and love into the harsh wilderness.

The experts say that it takes certain meteorological and climatic conditions to form a desert. Maps show that they cover about 25 percent of the earth’s land mass. Globes show that they occur only between certain latitudes. That’s what the experts say.

But we all know that there is a different truth about deserts. The truth is, that no matter where we live, or how far we travel, or how green the grass of our daily lives, sometimes the desert is all that we know. Sometimes, despite what the weather report of average rainfall may indicate, we find ourselves right in the middle of the desert: blinded, disoriented, sunburned, and just about dying of thirst. Sometimes, the desert feels so familiar, that we can name every shriveled plant, every venomous snake, every blistering ray, and every irritating little grain of sand. Sometimes, the wilderness can begin to feel a lot like home.[ii]

Some of the harshest deserts aren’t marked on any map, but lie just around the corner, or are found in the middle pew on Sunday morning at 1100. Each of us has experienced the desert at some time in our lives. Maybe we are there right now. Think of mothers and fathers caring for children alone, not because there are divorced or abandonned, but because their spouse is deployed away from home for an extended period of time. Think of people battling physical and emotional illness, unsure of what the future looks like, at some level, afraid. Thinking of people facing death – their own or someone they love, knowing that things will never be exactly the same again. Think of people who are the outcasts of society – the poor, those in prison, those whose lives are considered less worthy by those around them.

Yes, we know that deserts are everywhere, but there is something else we need to know about deserts… something Mark wants us to hear. Jesus has been there first. That is the good news of the opening scene for Mark. No desert on earth is so remote, or so barren, or so lifeless that Jesus hasn’t walked there first.

And his presence there reminds us of another truth about deserts. Despite all indications to the contrary, the desert is filled with life. It may be life as we have never seen it before, but it is life. A handful of dirt can be filled with hundreds of seeds just waiting to burst into life. The roots of the withered plant go very deep, and take in whatever nourishment they can, in order to sustain their leaves and flowers. The empty landscape, barren and lifeless in the daylight is suddenly teeming with life at night, as all sorts of animals and insects emerge from hiding. Even at its most desolate, the desert is ready to burst into bloom at the first sign of life-giving water.

Throughout the biblical story, God uses the desert as a place of transformation. It is a place of calling, where God’s plans become solidified and made clear. Think of Moses. Think of Elijah. Think of Jesus, emerging from the waters of baptism, only to be driven (compelled) into the desert. And if we look very hard at our own lives, we can see how the desert places can bring us closer to God. They help us understand the necessity of having meaningful relationships with other. They hopefully remind us of what it means to be a community of faith.

Author and church historian, Karen Armstrong writes of her struggle with epilepsy and how it impacted her relationship with God and her understanding of faith. After years of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” she finally understood that God calls each of us to a different path. She writes, “The great stories of history show that when you follow someone else’s path, you go astray.” Ultimately, it is in the wilderness that we fight our own monsters and experience what it missing in our lives. Thus transfigured, we can bring something of value to the world that has been left behind.[iii]

It is not coincidental that Jesus goes into the wilderness, or that it is the Spirit who leads him there. Though he does not need to be confronted with his own sin, as I always am, he is still led to discover who he is, and is tempted by the things that are not part of God’s call for him. In the wilderness, we also can become more aware of our dependence on God. In the wilderness, we learn to trust God’s way of being. In the wilderness, we are connected to what God is doing in the world. In the wilderness, when all else is taken away, we learn the true value of things, and the ultimate value of love. [iv] Ultimately, it is our own pain which gives us perspective and the empathy to give others hope that there is indeed a rainbow (and angels) on the other side.

Jesus leaves the desert to proclaim the gospel – that is, "good news," a term used in secular Greek for the public proclamation of a major event. The news is good because God’s "reign" is at hand, a kingly God who protects an endangered people, has special concern for the vulnerable, and who judges against violence and injustice. As we continue to experience Lent through Mark’s eyes, remember that Mark’s terse and succinct prose does not give us a lot of details on what God’s reign involves. He only bids us to follow Jesus, and by hearing his word and following his example we can understand more deeply the mystery of God’s sovereignty.[v]

The beginning of this journey through the Gospel and through Lent calls for metanoia—repentance or a second look at life—and belief, an act of trust in the God who guides the unfolding journey. As each of us experience these forty days of Lent, let us gather the courage to make this a journey of honest reflection.

Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor left parish ministry after 15 years to teach seminarians. Like many of us, she ended up in a place she never imagined she would be and walked through many doubts and much darkness along the way. In her new memoir, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she remembers that some of the most important encounters with God happen in the dark or in the wilderness – think Abraham, Moses, Jacob and Jesus. And when she feels that the darkness is about to consume her, she writes:

There is only one cure for me on nights like this. If I can summon the energy to put on my bathrobe and go outside, the night sky will heal me – not by reassuring me that I am just fine, but by reminding me of my place in the universe. Looking up at the same stars that human beings have been looking at for millennia, I find my place near the end of a long, long line of stargazers who stood there before me… [vi]

Peace, Deb