Luke 4:1-13
Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS
March 6, 2022
Earlier in the service I talked with the kids about how our prayer table has changed for Lent. You may have also noticed something that looks familiar to you if you were worshiping with us back in 2020 - a wilderness centerpiece. Our theme for Lent in 2020 was “wilderness” and on Ash Wednesday that year we made wilderness centerpieces to take home to use throughout the season. Little did we know in February of 2020 that we’d be using those centerpieces in our homes as we gathered around screens to learn to worship online together. Back in March of 2020 we felt that wilderness theme on a whole new level as we tried to figure out how to make our way in those early months of uncertainty and confusion and anxiety.
As we left our sanctuary, we found that God moved with us. Just as the pillars of fire and cloud in the book of Exodus guided the Israelites during their time in the wilderness, God showed up in our lives in the wilderness of 2020. We discovered that the Spirit could indeed move through Zoom, that cinnamon rolls and coffee make a fine Holy Communion, and we all had an opportunity to be acolytes as we lit our candles in our own homes on Sunday morning, welcoming the Spirit’s presence. Many of us continue to worship this way each week and that feels utterly unremarkable these days. We adapted and stretched in the ways we connect with God on Sunday mornings and throughout the week.
Are we still in the wilderness? Well, that’s hard to say. My guess we sometimes still feel that wilderness unease in our guts and other times feel adapted to a “new normal.” Perhaps the wilderness time of 2020 didn’t come and go as much as it made us more keenly aware that to be human is to always live in the in-between. And to always be wandering, searching, journeying towards a destination of one kind or another. When we tap into that wilderness feeling, we enter a space of vulnerability and humility as we remember that our lives often take twists and turns we weren’t anticipating. And when we tap into that wilderness feeling, that space of vulnerability and humility, we are able to recognize our very real need for God. We are able to hold onto the promises of Jesus more tightly, trusting that the Spirit meets and sustains us in our wilderness times.
When we’re in the wilderness we have a lot of questions. The ground underneath our feet can feel like shifting sands. We can’t quite see the path in front of us and sometimes we aren’t even really sure where we’re headed. The season of Lent begins with a story of one of Jesus’s own wilderness times.
Often, when we look at this passage we focus on the temptation aspect of the story: the ways that the Accuser tempts Jesus to save himself, make himself great, prematurely entering his glory. With each test, Jesus rises to the occasion, choosing the right path. He is rooted deeply in his sacred texts but he doesn’t just parrot them. He engages the scriptures, showing wisdom and a discerning spirit.
We need a spirit of discernment if we are to make it through the wilderness. We have to learn how to filter. We have to focus on what really matters. And we do all of this in partnership with the Holy - listening to the Great Song of Love that is background music for all creation. Discernment is not just about making big decisions. It’s also about the ways we tune our heart to that Great Song each and every day, dancing alongside Love and Justice as we weave Christ’s Beloved Community together.
Lent is an excellent time to cultivate a spirit of discernment in our own selves as individuals and as a community together.
One of the versions of the Bible that I like to read regularly is the First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament. In that translation, they call this story about Jesus’s time in the wilderness “Vision Quest.” Author Kaitlin Curtice, who is a member of the Potawatomi Citizen Band has also explored the connections between this story and the practice of the vision quest that is common in several Indigenous cultures. Each culture has its own name for a similar ritual, whereby a young person goes into the wilderness for a period of several days, typically alone, typically without any food or water. It’s a coming of age ritual and the Lakota call it Hanbleceya (say: hahn-BLAY-chah), which, in English, could be translated “crying for a vision.” [2]
Crying for a vision. Craving that spirit of discernment that comes with being deeply rooted in the Spirit’s loving presence.
Curtice says that in Indigenous cultures, young people “enter the wilderness because they know that on the other side they will come out a new version of themselves.”
Whether or not we realize it, we live in the wilderness in so many ways. And we are all being born anew each day - little shifts in our individual selves, and giant heaves in a rapidly changing world. When we embrace the wilderness - when we, like Jesus, call upon God to bless us with a spirit of discernment in our wilderness times - we do so knowing that we are always creating new versions of ourselves and creating a new world together, too.
In the wilderness, Jesus is discerning enough to resist the temptation of taking the easy route. He is grounded firmly in the truth of who he is and he is ready and willing to walk in the strength of that truth.
It’s no accident that Jesus’s baptism and genealogy come just before this wilderness wandering. When Jesus is baptized, he is reminded who he is at a deep, cellular level. As he emerges from the waters, he hears the voice of the Spirit from the heavens: “You are my son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased!”
Immediately after these words, the author of Luke shifts gears into a long genealogy of Jesus, going back some 75 generations. At the very end, the last words we hear just before Jesus goes into the wilderness are these, “son of God.”
“You are my child,” God says. I am within you, a part of your very essence. You are of me and I am of you. We can never be separated.
Armed with that foundational knowledge resounding deep in his body, Jesus walks into the wilderness - alone but never alone - crying for a vision. Cultivating a discerning spirit. Ready to be reminded of who he is and what work is his to do.
Jesus gets lost on purpose so he can avoid getting lost on accident. In letting go of familiar comforts and safety, he grows in wisdom and strength. May we follow in his footsteps, confident God goes with us every step of the way.
NOTES:
[1] https://www.patheos.com/blogs/kaitlinbcurtice/2017/05/08/jesus-us-a-shared-wilderness/
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