Feb. 25, 2007

We’re On Our Own

By Harry T. Cook

Luke 4: 1-13

If I were a masochist, I would try to gather up and read some of the sermons that will be preached today on this text. Their preachers will first of all, many of them, treat the story uncritically as something that actually happened. Then they will moralize about how we shouldn’t test god. Use Lent, they will say, to shun temptation of any kind so that you can enjoy the contents of your Easter basket six weeks hence. You’ve all heard sermons like that. But you won’t hear or read one today.

I’m going to give you a rational humanist interpretation of this familiar text – an interpretation devoid of pious counsel and religious flummery. I cannot say for anywhere near certain that its author meant by it in the last decade of the First Century what I take it to mean in the first decade of the 21st Century – because Luke thought and wrote and spoke in a different language backed up by concepts and ideas foreign to those of our time and place.

But a story is a story, and hearers in each new generation bring to any story their own appreciation of things. Here’s what I think the story of the temptation of Christ means today: It means that we are on our own. Both Mark and Matthew put it this way: that Jesus was thrown out into the wilderness. The Greek is ek ballein from which our word “ballistic” comes. Jesus was propelled into that waste land, it is said, by the Spirit of God. Luke softens it by saying that Jesus was “led.” Either way, there he was: out there on his own.

Luke (and, before her, Matthew) had received this story of Mark’s creation (if, indeed, Mark had not received it from some earlier source) – a story that tried to account for the perceived failure of Jesus to become a true Jewish messiah. He did not take on Israel’s tormentors and vanquish them. Much less could he do anything like turn stones into bread, because stones are stones and bread is bread. Furthermore, Jesus never came remotely close to being the ruler of any kingdom, much less all the kingdoms of the world – George Friedrich Handel’s rousing chorus to the contrary notwithstanding. Also Jesus was not a weirdo. He would not have jumped off the roof and counted on any god to keep him from becoming a bag of broken bones on the pavement below.

Taking the so-called temptations one at a time:

Stones into bread. Which of us has never had the unspoken wish to call on some invisible power to enable us to do some extraordinary thing? Something that would prove a point to our detractors and strike fear in their hearts – the ability and the occasion to say, “Ha! So there!” Well, one doesn’t turn stones into bread. One either earns the money to buy a loaf or learns how to make it from scratch. In any event, one doesn’t get famous by following natural law.

Worship evil for personal gain. Which of us has never been tempted to make, as the metaphorical saying goes, a pact with the devil? This phenomenon is more visible in electoral politics. The National Rifle Association lobbyist offers the office-seeker money (and also threatens him or her with ignominious defeat) to vote against gun control. The office-seeker is so intent upon being elected that he takes the money, minds the threat and wins. He is then forever in thrall to the NRA, which is about as close to being in league with the devil as you can get.

Wile E. Coyote. Only deranged people jump off tall buildings – deranged people and cartoon characters like Wile E. Coyote. The result is inevitable for both – except that Wile E. survives to jump again and then again. In real life, though, you only jump once, and unless the fire department catches you in its safety net, you’re a goner. Not for nothing is it called The Law of Gravity.

The lesson is that we’re on our own. We make our way in life, certainly with the help of others or despite them, and we do so by putting one foot in front of the other. If we’re on the ball, it’s the best foot we put forward at each step of the way, remembering both our limitations and our aspirations. We shouldn’t waste our breath uttering little prayers for this success and that victory. We work to succeed, and we strive to win. We’re on our own.

All three gospels writers who tell this story place Jesus in the wilderness – that word in the ancient text means anything from “an empty and deserted place” to “a place of solitude.” Our word hermit is derived from it. It is said that Jesus was there alone, hermit-like, without even the most basic resources. He had to rely on himself and what he knew to fend off temptation. He is not once depicted as having raised his eyes to the heavens to plead for succor. He knew he was on his own. He was not overcome by that frightening reality, but overcame it to emerge strengthened and ready for what was to come. That’s the kind of thing that makes him worth following, which is the purpose of Lent and, as a matter of fact, the whole point of this religion of ours.

© Copyright 2007, Harry T. Cook. All rights reserved. This article may not be used or reproduced without proper credit.

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