The season of Lent grew out of the ancient church’s practice of holding baptisms at Easter. Before 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. Here, God renews the covenant with the created world, showing concern not only for people but all creatures. Earlier in Genesis, God said, "Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air, for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth" (1:28, The Message). I hope you heard the story this week of the great turtle rescue happening this week at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi. Sea turtles. Starting with one Marine veteran and his friends, and expanding to the Navy base and South Padre Island community, people have plucked thousands of stranded turtles from the freezing seas, housing them first in a Navy aircraft hanger, then expanding to the city’s convention center.[i]
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 death and resurrection. To be baptized is to be taken up into this re-creative work in the world.[ii] In Texas, hundreds of volunteers are working not just to save and rehabilitate these endangered animals, but also to return them to their habitat as soon as possible. Implicitly or explicitly, this community understands what it means to live under the covenant of God’s promises.
We have visited the baptism of Jesus already once this year, but as a reminder, in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ 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 deserts cover about 25 percent of the earth’s landmass. , Globes show that they occur only between certain latitudes but that area could be expanded if climate change continues unchecked... That’s what the experts say.
But we all know that there is a different kind of desert – no longer defined by the heat or arid nature of the air. Deserts – or wilderness – can also be found amid our everyday life. No matter where we live, how far we travel, or how green the grass looks around us, we feel alone and disconnected. Despite the weather outlook, we find ourselves right in the middle of the desert: blinded, disoriented, sunburned, and just about dying of thirst. Some days, it’s a fleeting sense of disorientation, but other times, wilderness 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 starts to feel like home.[iii]
Some of the harshest deserts aren’t marked on any map but lie just around the corner. Each of us has experienced the desert at some time, maybe right now. Think of mothers and fathers caring for children alone, not because there are divorced or abandoned, 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.
Or people facing death – their own or the loss of someone they love – many of us have experienced the desert of knowing that things will never be 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.
Think of our experiences of COVID-19. Some have been sickened. Our days and months are rearranged. Many of us have not seen our families in a year or more. If the last year has taught us nothing else, it’s that physically comfortable lives can feel like the desert where we can still feel alone, afraid, and unsure about what the future holds.
There are deserts – wilderness – everywhere, and our first instinct is to avoid them at all costs. But there is another truth about deserts… something Mark wants us to hear. Jesus has been there first. That is the good news of the opening scene for Mark. There is no desert on earth so remote, or so barren, or so lifeless that Jesus hasn’t walked there first.
And his presence there reminds us that 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, 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 darkness is not totally without light. The smallest particles of the universe, atoms, and neutrinos are in constant motion around us, giving off infinitesimal flashes of light.[iv] 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 with 20/20 hindsight, we can see how our time in the wilderness can bring us closer to God.
Author and church historian, Karen Armstrong writes of her struggle with epilepsy and how it impacted her relationship with God. After years of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” she finally understood that God called her, and 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 is missing in our lives. Once transfigured, we can bring something of value to the world we left behind.[v]
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, he is still led to discover who he is, and is tempted by the things that are not part of God’s call. In Matthew and Luke’s retelling of this story, there are more details, three tests which Jesus encounters before he can be restored to the community. But here in Mark, this scene only takes up two verses. And when Jesus comes home, his work begins.
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, who 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 follow Jesus. By hearing Jesus’ word and following his example, we can understand more deeply the mystery of God’s sovereignty.[vii]
The beginning of this journey through the Gospel and this season of Lent calls for metanoia—repentance or a second look at life—and belief – pisteuó, an act of trust in the God who guides the unfolding journey. As we 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. She ended up living with her husband on a farm in rural Georgia, struggling with doubts and darkness – it felt like the wilderness to her. In her memoir, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she remembers that in the biblical story, some of the most important encounters with God happen in the dark or the wilderness. 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… [viii]
We don’t know where our desert journeys will lead us - at any time we can find ourselves wrestling with demons and tempted by evil. Some people might look at that journey with despair. But deep inside, we know the truth about deserts. Our hope in Christ reminds us that God is always near, found in rainbows and promises kept, even though our lives look different than we expected. This is the good news – God is faithful. This is the promise that we must remember – in joy and in darkness. Peter’s letter reminds us that through our baptisms, we are called to be a part of the redemptive work of the world. No experience is wasted. Even when we find ourselves on a desert or wilderness journey, we are called to remember, like Jesus, we are not alone.
Thanks be to God.
Let us pray:
unveil your Kingdom in our midst.
Show us who we truly are in you:
expose the illusions that distort our vision,
deliver us from temptations that contort our living,
open our eyes in this time of trial –
that resistance may be the secret of our joy
and our joy a sign of your shalom. Amen.
~ posted on the Monthly
Prayers page of the Christian Aid website. http://www.christianaid.org.uk/
Peace in Christ, Deb
(c) Deb Luther Teagan February 2021
[i] Alex
Horton, Hundreds of helpless cold-stunned sea turtles rescued by Navy pilots
and pickup trucks, February 19, 2021 https://www.washingtonpost.com/national-security/2021/02/18/sea-turtles-texas-navy/
[ii]
Nancarrow, Paul, “Process & Faith lectionay Commentary, March 5, 2006”, http://www.ctr4process.org/pandf/lectionary/Year%20B/Lent%201%20March%205%202006.htm
[iii]
McGurgan, Susan Fleming, “Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent, 2006,” http://www.mtsm.org/preaching/homilies.htm
[iv] Richard
Rohr, The Universal Christ, p. 18.
[v]
Armstrong, Karen, The Spiral Staircase, 2004, p 268.
[vi] Bouman, Luke, “Sermon of Mark 1:9-15,” http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-8/060305-6-e.html
[vii]
Donahue, John R. “A Journey Begins,” March 12, 2000, http://www.americamagazine.org/SundayScripture.cfm?articletypeid=40&textID=580&issueID=278
[viii]
Taylor, Barbara Brown, Learning to Walk in the Dark, 2014, pg 64.
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