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
[i]
Nancarrow, Paul, “Process & Faith lectionay Commentary, March 5, 2006”, http://www.ctr4process.org/pandf/lectionary/Year%20B/Lent%201%20March%205%202006.htm
[ii]
McGurgan, Susan Fleming, “Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent, 2006,” http://www.mtsm.org/preaching/homilies.htm
[iii]
Armstrong, Karen, The Spiral Staircase, 2004, p 268.
[iv] Bouman, Luke, “Sermon of Mark 1:9-15,” http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-8/060305-6-e.html
[v] Donahue,
John R. “A Journey Begins,” March 12, 2000, http://www.americamagazine.org/SundayScripture.cfm?articletypeid=40&textID=580&issueID=278
[vi] Taylor,
Barbara Brown, Learning to Walk in the Dark, 2014, pg 64.
