Dr. William A. Ritter
First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Luke 4:1-13
March 10, 2002
It happened just a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday as I remember. But it’s happened so many times, it’s hard to separate one occasion from another. Kris and I were in a nice restaurant…. alone, for a change. Most of the meal behind us. Coffee and the check in front of us. When the waiter appeared before us and said: “Kindly allow me to tempt you with a little dessert.” Well, the desserts weren’t little. And, goodness knows, they weren’t cheap. As for the waiter, he was a nice chap in a nice tux with a haircut that completely hid his horns, and no sign of a red suit or pitchfork anywhere.
As to whether he could “tempt us,” I didn’t know. But after he’d been so nice to us….and worked so hard for us….not to listen seemed somehow rude. And I work very hard to avoid being rude. So even though we were as satisfied as we were satiated, we indicated a willingness to listen politely, before refusing outrightly. There was, of course, the carrot cake which he described as “sinful.” Next, he highlighted the crème caramel which he labeled “irresistible.” Which was followed by the Bavarian torte (layered with mousse) which he offered under the heading of “obscene.” And he concluded with the ever-obligatory brown thing known, in this restaurant, as “death by chocolate,” which (he told us) was “surely to die for.”
Uncertain as to when we had last updated our wills, we skipped the chocolate thing. But we did choose a little something….one little something….accompanied by two forks….with each of us convinced that we would (out of kindness, of course) take one bite and then shove the remainder in the direction of our spouse. Seven dollars and several seconds later, the dessert was gone…. the waiter was gone….and we were gone….still wearing a silly grin, as if to say: “We didn’t really need that. But it was good.”
I can tell that story because, where desserts are concerned, I have a high level of resistance. That’s because desserts are sweet and I am not into “sweet.” My teeth are set for salt. Were that same dessert menu to include a parfait of potato chips, I’d be suckered in every time.
All of us have our weaknesses, don’t we? All of us have points of vulnerability where our armor of willpower is both attackable and indefensible. So much so that we joke about tempting places like the dessert table and the shopping mall. Is that what the Bible means by temptation? Not really. Well, maybe sort of. Although one hates to belittle such a serious subject with such trivial examples.
Following a discussion of chocolate cake, if you were to say, “Is this what happened to Jesus in the wilderness?”, I would want to say: “No, you’ve missed it. Go back to square one. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Do not expect a gold star from your Sunday school teacher. And do not tell Alex Trebek that you’re ready to try ‘Spiritual Categories’ for a thousand.”
No, this isn’t what happened to Jesus in the wilderness, although my friend Emery Percell (whose parishioners make regular pilgrimages to Minneapolis to shop) says that the best equation he can think of for the Wilderness of Temptation is the Mall of America. And he could be right. But, then, Emery has never been to Vegas (or if he has, he hasn’t said).
No, there’s nothing about chocolate cake in the Judean wilderness….nothing about casino gambling in the Judean wilderness….and nothing about two-for-one sales or pretty women in the Judean wilderness, either. Although the Bible says that Jesus was “tempted in every way as we are.” Which is an amazing statement when you think of it. “In every way”….can you imagine that? The truth is, I can. But I’d rather not. As temptations go, I like to picture Jesus defeating them. But when one talks about things like chocolate cake and pretty women, I’d rather not picture Jesus considering them.
As human beings go, temptations are both seasonal and situational. Which means that all of us are temptable, but never at the same time and seldom in the same way. When we talk about temptations for teens, we always talk about the trinity of sex, booze and drugs. But, statistically speaking, none of those is the most commonly-yielded-to temptation for adolescents. That title belongs to “cheating.” I’m talking about answers written on the hand, tucked in the hat, or borrowed from the test paper across the aisle. I suppose I’m also talking about term papers copied from the internet and homework copied from one’s best friend, five minutes before class. Kids tell me that cheating is a matter of necessity. How else are you going to keep up when everybody except you knows at least one little shortcut? In an environment where cheating is rampant, most people do it….not to gain an advantage, but simply to survive. But once you pass the point of being competitive, I suppose the temptation recedes.
But when the temptation is rooted in addiction, yielding is often acquainted with surviving. “Why do I keep doing the things I hate?” cries Paul (leading me to wonder what the things were that Paul hated and why he kept doing them). Paul sounds like my father sounded on those rare occasions when he allowed himself to become brutally honest about the thing that was killing him. I’ll never forget the morning he was waiting on the front porch for a friend from AA. After a gut-wrenching decision on my father’s part, he had called this fellow to drive him to Brighton Hospital for the 28-day cure. My father needed to go….wanted to go….was ready to go….and had said all the right things about his decision to go. The driver came….parked at the curb….picked up my dad’s suitcase….strap snapped….bag broke….contents scattered….pint of Seven Crown fell to the floor. I guess he figured he needed a little insurance.
I once knew a fellow who regularly quoted Jesus. “Get thee behind me, Satan,” he said….before adding, “and push.” As if he needed any help. As if any of us needs any help. But it does raise the question of the Tempter, does it not? Is the Tempter outside or inside….visible or invisible….audible or inaudible….masculine or feminine….two-footed, four-footed or slithering on its belly (as in “snake”)? I do not know. All I know is that we give the Tempter a name (because temptation is so very personal)….we give the Tempter stature (because temptation is so very powerful)….and we endow the Tempter with human-like virtues of patience and cleverness (because temptation is so very progressive). I recently read of a minister in Kansas City who went to pay a pastoral call on a couple in their home. The wife brought him a glass of iced tea and urged him to help himself to a bowl of peanuts on the table. He said: “No, I don’t really care for any peanuts….don’t need any peanuts….have sworn off peanuts. But okay….just one. Or two. Or three.” An hour later, when the visit was finished and he’d said his little prayer, he looked down and the bowl was empty. Which wasn’t his intention. I mean, you don’t start with whole bowls. You work up to whole bowls.
Several years ago, when last we talked of temptation (you and I), I told you about a Congregational church in Chicago (about ten blocks from the Loop) where one can see a most amazing picture. Without being labeled as such, it’s a picture of Jesus. At least it looks like Jesus. He is seated on a rock….alone….staring straight ahead….overlooking a valley. But the disconcerting thing about the picture is that while his face looks normal, his skull doesn’t. It’s as if a portion of his skull has been peeled back, allowing you to see underlying brain tissue…. whole strands of it….interlocking, overlapping and almost moving. But as you watch it….and as your eyes become accustomed to the light surrounding it….you realize that what you are looking at is not brain tissue at all, but fingers. Dozens of fingers. All of them grabbing and pulling at the mind of Jesus. And what is the picture called? “The Temptations,” that’s what the picture is called. Which didn’t mean much until a friend said (concerning the attraction of temptation): “Sometimes it feels as if someone is messing with my head.”
Temptation is personal (meaning “yours”). Temptation is powerful (meaning “strong”). Temptation is progressive (meaning “building”). And temptation is also persistent (meaning “recurring”). Which redirects us to Jesus, who is offered the three temptations and turns them all down. Actually, I might have bitten on two of the three, given that they were really rather reasonable.
· Turn stones into bread….as in “feed people.”
· Cut a deal for political authority….as in “rule people.”
· Jump off a high pinnacle….as in “bedazzle people.”
And Jesus wrestles with all three. In total, the wilderness period represents six weeks’ worth of wrestling. Which suggests that things could have gone either way.
Which you don’t want to hear. Because, where temptation is concerned, you want to believe that Jesus is above it….that the friends of Jesus are above it….that the sworn (and ordained) servants of Jesus are above it….and that the closer you get to Jesus, the further you’ll be above it, too. But concerning your illusion of immunity, listen to Fred Craddock’s warning.
Temptation is not a measure of your weakness. Temptation is a measure of your strength. The stronger you are….the more capable you are….the more opportunities you have….the more power and influence you have….the greater will be your temptation.
You are not going to have a sea storm (George Buttrick used to say) in a roadside puddle. Small people have small temptations. But Jesus….whew….what a storm.
Jesus turned down temptations involving good things in order to do God’s thing….which for him, was a better thing (albeit not an easy thing). The really difficult temptations have less to do with chomping down on the chocolate cake of wrong than with settling (too quickly and too easily) for half-a-loaf of right. At the end of the day, spiritual death does not come by chocolate cake or Seven Crown. Neither does it come via peanuts in the bowl, crib sheets in the coat pocket, big bets on the blackjack table, or secretly slipping between the sheets in secluded hotels. Spiritual death comes from looking at the multiple choice question at the top of the great game board of life, namely:
Whose will is going to shape and direct my journey?
A. Mine
B. Mama’s
C. God’s
and checking A or B.
Luke says that the devil departed from him (meaning Jesus) until a more opportune time. Which means that the question “My will or thine?” was never really done until Jesus was done. Nor will it ever be done for you and I until we, too, are done.
So what have you settled for….sold out to….made your peace with….that is less than what God is asking of you? Instead of telling me what bad things you’ve beaten back, tell me what good things you’ve declined….what dreams you’ve deferred….what callings you’ve denied….what talents you’ve buried….and what people you’ve abandoned. Given that temptation….at least in this text….has less to do with breaking God’s law than with bailing out on God’s will.
It will not surprise you that this has not been a good week in the newspapers for clergy. But it may surprise you to know just how “down” most clergy are feeling as a result of what we are reading. A lot of colleagues are circling the wagons, which is how I came to discover that all of us are terribly sad (and more than a few, actually depressed) over stories that teeter totter between pastoral culpability and institutional cruelty.
Wednesday, I met with a rather high-powered interdenominational group over lunch at a downtown athletic club. In the midst of the war stories, the single-most esteemed colleague I know was heard to say: “I don’t know where the rest of you are. But it was all I could do to get out of bed this morning. And if there had been a path from my back door which would have led me to some quiet oasis in the mountains, I would have taken it. And God only knows how long I would have stayed.”
Which prompted another at the table (a retired colleague) to say: “But all of us knew that the road….if we stuck to it….would occasionally have a cross in the middle of it.” Which, as a comment floated across the table, certainly wasn’t sympathetic. But it was true. Which, in part, explains why my “esteemed colleague” was back at work by three o’clock that afternoon. As were we all.
Coda: “If you can’t bear the cross, then you can’t wear the crown.”
Note: I first became interested in the temptations of Jesus when I read a wonderful book by the late Howard Thurman entitled Jesus and the Disinherited. Using Thurman’s material as my foundation, I preached a trio of sermons in 1994 on each individual temptation. Those sermons were entitled “Not By Bread Alone,” “Take a Flying Leap,” and “If I Ruled the World.” This reworking of the temptation narratives grew out of my discovery of the words “till an opportune time,” located only in Luke’s narrative.
Once again, I owe a debt of gratitude to Fred Craddock and his discussion of temptation vis-à-vis personal strength (and also his wonderful reminder of George Buttrick’s quotation).
The oblique references to “a difficult week for clergy” are somewhat local in nature. At issue are several newspaper articles about priests who are pedophiles, along with a front page story about a well-known colleague suspended by his bishop under charges of plagiarism. Underneath the newspaper stories, however, is a growing sense of unrest among a number of area clergy concerning personal and ecclesiastical vulnerability.
Finally, I would share an e-mail from Dr. John Rick (who researches and shares wonderful information with me), relative to my three most recent sermons. Hopefully, you will find it as fascinating as I did.
Your last few sermons about the Christian Road Show reminded me of a wonderful tale that Wayne Meeks tells in his book, Origins of Christian Morality. Perhaps you are familiar with it. It is the “Tablet of Cebes.” This was written in the first century c.e. and describes a painting that was found in a Temple in Athens. It shows a crowd of people on a road called “Life” that leads, by devious paths with certain byways, through various gates and past walls, towers, distractions and cul-de-sacs, to an enthroned and gracious lady called Eudaimonia: “Happiness.” Very few reach the goal—and then only by the intervention of a lady known as “Repentance.” This story emphasizes how hard it is to be good. Second, the choice between the easy life of vice and the difficult life of virtue is an exceedingly lonely one.
