Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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The temptation story is unreal. It takes place in a twilight zone between the spiritual world (a world populated by angels and demons and Satan and God), and the more-familiar physical world, a world of real people and things we can see and touch. Ancient civilizations had no trouble imagining these two worlds intermingled. But we have plenty of trouble with that. It is forbidden, and utterly confusing (by the way), in this scientific age, to combine the physical and the spiritual. It makes our hair hurt! "The physical world works this way," we say, "by these immutable laws of nature." "The spiritual world, if it exists at all, has its own rules and realities. Many, if they were telling the truth, would say the physical world belongs to the scientists and the spiritual world to the witch doctors. In any event, because it takes place in two different worlds, the temptation story scrambles our brains. Reading it is like watching two movies at the same time on the same screen.

The story is also unreal because it doesn't represent temptation as we usually experience it. Jesus chooses "the big good" over "the big bad," chooses not to allow his physical needs, for example, his hunger, to drive a wedge between him and God - even though he could make himself some bread any time. He chooses not to gain worldly power and wealth by spiritual compromise. He chooses not to toy with God, not to ask God to save him miraculously from certain death - not even from a death in Jerusalem, notice. There are heavy foreshadowings here. But temptations don't come to us in that clear-cut way. It's not excuse-making to say that moral issues today are often unclear and confounding. Almost always, in the real world, we are asked to choose not between good and bad, but between bad and worse, or between good and better. I am sometimes tempted to wish for clear-cut choices, like the neat, clean choices Satan laid before Jesus. Except that I know, if such choices had been put to me, I would have responded wrong in every case. (It's not understanding but obedience that's the problem.) I would have made some bread and eaten it, saying, "Surely, God wouldn't want me to be hungry." I would have grabbed all that wealth, and power, and glory, and crossed my fingers when I worshipped Satan, and hoped that God wouldn't notice. I would have jumped, and allowed myself to be saved by angels, and become a Superstar to the masses. If I couldn't get the simple questions right, how will I do with the more confusing ones? (It's not understanding but obedience that's the problem.) Today's moral issues are complicated, but that doesn't mean there are no moral issues. Temptations do not always appear to us clearly like that snake in the garden, but that doesn't mean there aren't temptations. In fact, we are more in need of moral guidance today than ever before. The story of Jesus' temptation offers no pat answers. The Bible is not a rule-book, with a verse for every predicament. It doesn't tell us, for example, what to think about genetic engineering, and where temptations might lurk in that field. It doesn't tell us how to avoid inflation, or keep unemployment down. We still have to work out our salvation "in fear and trembling," as Paul said. But, nevertheless, the story does give us some principles against which to measure modern temptations and moral dilemmas.

For example, the story surely says something about not losing our identity. Jesus knew who he was, the story clearly says, and he remained true to who he was, not allowing himself to be pulled by temptation this way or that. We have baptism identities, commitments, limitations, obligations which we have taken upon ourselves as Christians. We knew who we were when we accepted Christ. We still know. As followers of Christ we are this and not that. It is a terrible human tragedy to allow our identities to be stolen from us. But that's what Satan's always up to: trying to make us forget who we are, that we are not our own but are "bought with a price," as Paul says.

The story also says something about using religion for personal gain. That temptation's still around. Jesus stood up to it. Religion, like everything else in this world, can be used or ab-used. It can puff us up with sanctimony. It can be lorded over other people. It can be the instrument of manipulation. In the wilderness, with Satan trying to shake his resolve, Jesus kept his religion pure. He refused to use it in some self-serving way.

The story says something about being dazzled by the riches of the world, and choosing to be successful rather than to be faithful. What a dumb choice that is. Who wants to sign up with a loser, like Satan? The story speaks of our temptation to compromise when we should stand firm. Compromise - often a good thing in the affairs of men - is poison in our moralities. Can we imagine Jesus saying, "I'll just make a little bread." "No thank you, I don't want the whole world, but I will take these two mountains, and worship you once a year." "Maybe I'll jump off something not quite so high." It would have left him neither God's man nor Satan's. There was no compromise. Satan was tempting him to abominations. He wouldn't give one inch.

Finally, the story speaks of the nagging temptation in all of us to avoid the path of sacrifice and suffering. One slip here, on Jesus' part, and it would have all been over before it began. He knew what lay ahead, if he passed the test. He would live poor and die hard. And that's the path he chose. And he led his disciples down the same path, and still does today. We only have so much wherewithal. Other people hoard it, but Christians give theirs away. There is only so much energy in us, only so much creativity, only so many hours in a day, only so much wealth, only so much talent, only so many years in our lives. These are the things that Christians give away. They live among the poorest of the poor in the slums of Calcutta. They spend themselves taking care of widows and orphans and lepers. They make deep sacrifices for their children, and sometimes for other people's children. They give away friendship. They speak to people they don't really know, or like, or need. They extend themselves in love. They are the ones who find themselves by losing themselves, who live because they die.