First Sunday In Lent
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
The temptation of Adam and Eve has to do with their putting themselves in the place of God.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7
The Serpent Tempts Eve
After briefly mentioning, by way of background, God's prohibition to Adam and Eve of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (2:15-17), the lectionary jumps ahead to chapter 3, to tell of the serpent's temptation of Eve. This is intentionally paired with today's gospel lesson, Matthew's account of Jesus' temptation. Few biblical stories are as well-known as this one, yet few are so misunderstood. The "tree of the knowledge of good and evil" does not symbolize sexuality, as many have thought, but rather the prideful rush to independent moral judgment -- taking the place of God as the arbiter of good and evil. To eat of the fruit of this tree is to seek to put ourselves in God's place: to judge for ourselves what is good or evil, rather than relying on God's judgment, as expressed in the law. Walter Brueggemann warns against putting too much emphasis on the serpent, which is nothing more than "a technique to move the plot of the story. It is not a phallic symbol or satan or a principle of evil or death" (Genesis, in the Interpretation series [Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982], p. 47). The real emphasis is on the human beings Adam and Eve, and their disobedience. The search for knowledge is not a bad thing. Yet, when it is the sort of knowledge that seeks to put human moral judgment in the place of God's, it is the very essence of sin.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 5:12-19
Adam's Sin, And Its Remedy
In this passage, Paul introduces the concept that later interpreters -- notably Augustine -- have identified as "original sin." In verse 12, we learn that sin -- portrayed, here, as not simply moral disobedience, but a condition of enslavement -- entered the world at a particular point in time: the disobedience of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. It is as though the sin of Adam -- which is no different than the sin of all of us -- were placed on one side of an old-fashioned balance scale. A sufficient weight must be found in order to restore the balance. The only such countervailing weight is "the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ" (v. 15). The redeeming effect of Christ's death is the mirror image of the sin of Adam: for, just as the one action of Adam's sufficed to enslave many people to sin, so the one sacrifice of Christ is sufficient to free many (verses 15, 17). The results of Christ's sacrifice are "justification," "life" (v. 18) and "righteousness" (v. 19). For Paul, sin is so much more than a collection of individual acts of disobedience; it is an inescapable condition. As he says, earlier: "all, both Jews and Greeks, are under the power of sin" (literally, "under sin" -- 3:9). In preaching this passage, the key is to emphasize not the weight of sin, but rather the superior weight of grace: For Paul introduces this imagery not in order to make his readers feel enslaved, but rather to lead them to freedom in Christ.
The Gospel
Matthew 4:1-11
The Temptation Of Jesus
Matthew has just ended his account of Jesus' baptism with God's blessing: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased" (3:17). Now, as Jesus undergoes temptation in the wilderness, the devil mocks him in strikingly similar terms: "If you are the Son of God..." The devil uses this form of address in two of Jesus' three temptations: commanding stones to become bread (v. 3) and performing the flashy, super-hero trick of throwing himself off the pinnacle of the temple (v. 6). The third temptation, ruling over all the kingdoms of the world (verses 8-9), is not preceded by this formula -- although that is hardly surprising, since the devil's part of the bargain is that Jesus fall down and worship him (which would be to implicitly deny his divine sonship). It is significant that the temptation follows immediately after Jesus' baptism: for it indicates that baptism is no insurance against temptation. If Jesus is tempted so soon after his baptism, then why should we be any different? "Forty days" (v. 2) is, of course, a figurative way of saying "a very long time." It hearkens back both to Moses' forty-day sojourn on Mount Sinai and to Israel's forty-year period of testing in the wilderness. At the threshold of Lent, the temptation -- for all its supernatural strangeness -- is a comforting passage. "For," as the Letter to the Hebrews puts it, "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin" (4:15).
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Old Testament lesson is about a certain woman named Eve, whose story we know all too well. A garden, a tree, a talking snake, and a shiny, red apple -- that's the way the story's come down to us.
The problem is, a lot of other things have come down to us along with it -- things that have nothing to do with what the story would have meant to its original Hebrew audience. The story of Eve, the serpent, and the Garden has become the playground of all manner of creative thinkers -- all of whom think they see something in the story that just isn't there. It's worthwhile taking a few moments to examine some of these mistaken ideas.
The first of these is that it's somehow the woman's fault -- because she is a woman. Unimaginable damage has been perpetrated upon the female gender, over the centuries, because some male theologians decided to read this text as proof that women are morally or intellectually inferior to men. They called women "the weaker sex" -- somehow implying that, if only Adam had been around to keep a closer watch on his wayward wife, the two of them never would have had to leave that prime piece of real estate. This is utter nonsense.
The second mistaken idea is that, as soon as Eve bit into that apple, the human race -- by some sort of dark magic -- experienced a cosmic change of condition known as "the Fall." Every generation yet to come -- because silly Eve took that one, succulent bite of tree-of-knowledge fruit -- was therefore doomed to wage a losing battle with sin.
Well, of course there is such a thing as sin. Sin is a terrible curse. It's something we all experience and struggle against. Yet, did God consign the human race to a perpetual state of sin purely because some prehistoric ancestor swiped a piece of fruit? Of course not! That explanation makes God into a petty, vindictive ruler, with a distinctly stunted sense of justice. That the sins of the fathers -- and mothers -- are visited on succeeding generations may be a great theme of classical literature, but that doesn't mean we need to make it part of our theology. The truth is, we've all got plenty of sins for which to repent -- and they're not Eve's doing, but ours. We don't need to import any sins from Grandmother Eve to establish the fact that we need forgiveness.
The third mistaken idea is that the temptation in the Garden has something to do with sex. This was a big idea in the early Christian church. It was popularized, especially, by one of the greatest theologians of all time, Bishop Augustine of Hippo. Augustine had a convoluted and very fascinating journey into Christian faith. He became a Christian only at mid-life, and wrote about it in a book called The Confessions -- which, as far as we know, is the first autobiography ever written. In his early years, Augustine was quite the ladies' man -- so much so, in fact, that some today would apply to him the modern label of "sex addict." Augustine did eventually triumph over his tormenting addiction, through prayer and faith in Jesus Christ. But, he turned right around and began to teach that all sin is somehow traceable back to that first sexual act between Adam and Eve -- and that, ever since, the physical love between a man and a woman (even in marriage) is shameful.
There's absolutely no mention of sex in the Genesis text -- with the possible exception of that little detail about the man and the woman discovering they're both naked and covering themselves with fig leaves. Why, just a few verses before, God has created Eve to be Adam's partner, and Adam has exclaimed, in delight, "This, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh." It's a clear statement that God intends human beings to delight one another on every level. Why would a single bite out of an apple change God's intention so completely? Adam and Eve are "ashamed," says the Genesis text. They are ashamed at their loss of innocence, perhaps, or ashamed at their disobedience. But, they are not ashamed because they have entered into the physical relationship for which God has specifically created them -- the relationship that is, and ought to be, at the heart of every marriage. That was Augustine reading his own psychological hang-ups back into the story, and his view has caused needless guilt for countless generations of Christian couples.
So what is it Adam and Eve do, that's so terrible? The answer lies in that little phrase, "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." Preachers and scholars have debated for centuries over the symbolic significance of that tree and its forbidden fruit. If we refer to it, in shorthand fashion, as "the tree of knowledge" (as some are inclined to do), it could lead us to imagine that God wants to keep humanity in the dark, to keep us from using our full intellectual capacities. Yet that's not likely what it means at all.
The key lies in that little qualifying phrase "of good and evil." It's not the tree of knowledge at all; it's "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." So what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil? What's bad is that this "knowledge" by rights belongs only to God.
This is not about ethics. God's not mad because Adam and Eve have developed an ethical sense. God's angry because Adam and Eve are daring to put themselves in the judgment seat of God. That's what "the knowledge of good and evil" means. It's what a judge needs to know. The Hebrew word yada, or knowledge, means more than mere cognitive knowledge. It also means an awareness of judgment, of justice. To pursue and claim the knowledge of good and evil means to take on the role of judge, a role that belongs to God alone.
If Adam and Eve aspire to eat the fruit of that tree, it means they want to make themselves into little gods. It means they no longer have any need to revere their creator. The serpent has it exactly right. He explains to Eve, the reason God doesn't want you to eat of the fruit is because, if you do so, "you will be like God." This, of course, is the worst form of idolatry -- the desire to assume for oneself the role of a god. Eve buys it -- hook, line, and sinker. Adam, too.
Yet isn't that what we seek to do, in large ways and in small, each day of our lives? We turn from the God who created us. We believe we can go it alone, in life. So often, we try to convince ourselves we know better than God, that we are independent, that we can chart our own course.
It's what Eve does with respect to the fruit of the tree. Listen to what Eve concludes about the fruit, after talking with the serpent: "So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate" (Genesis 3:6). Look at that verse carefully, and you'll see three reasons why Eve thinks she can legitimately eat the fruit.
The tree is "good for food" -- it's useful, in other words. It's "a delight to the eyes" -- the tree is truly beautiful. And, the tree is "to be desired to make one wise" -- it offers the promise of wisdom. Eve seeks from the tree, in other words, utility, beauty, and wisdom.
These are good things, but they lead her into sin. Yet, isn't that always the way? It's not so much the bad things that lead us astray, as it is the good things -- or, at least, the things that seem to be good.
The first of these is utility -- practical usefulness. When something tempts us, we frequently give into that temptation because there's something about it that seems useful. Utilitarianism is a powerful philosophy, but it's also one that can be ethically blind. Utilitarianism was a school of thought that grew up in England during the 1700s. John Stuart Mill was its chief booster. Mill maintained that just about any ethical decision could be made according to this simple rule: "the greatest good for the greatest possible number of people."
Now that sounds fine, on the face of it, but consider the fact that some of the most destructive movements in human history have used a utilitarian argument to justify themselves. Take the Nazi party, for instance. Hitler and his cronies can be seen as engaging in a particularly rigorous application of John Stuart Mill's decision-making standard. You can justify all manner of atrocities against a minority group if you see those actions as leading to a greater quality of life for the majority.
The Nazis were the ultimate utilitarians. Their scientists could work to develop the deadly gas known as Zyklon B, which the S.S. subsequently used to murder millions in the concentration camps. It was a very "useful" product, that Zyklon B. It got the job done, with a minimum of fuss -- at least for those who ran the death camps. Yes, to the Nazis it certainly was useful -- yet it was also morally reprehensible.
The second thing that tempts the woman, in the story, is the tree's beauty. Our aesthetic sense is a wonderful gift, but it's a poor guide for ethical decision-making. Take a look at the Academy Awards ceremony, on television. All the "beautiful people" of Hollywood will revel in their few seconds of fame, as they step out of their limousines and parade down the red carpet, camera strobes flashing on every side. Cloying commentators will focus on every aspect of the gowns, the make-up, the coiffures. Beauty will be celebrated ad nauseam -- or at least, a certain understanding of beauty. Many of these so-called "beautiful people," with their marital infidelities and conspicuous substance abuse, are in fact anything but beautiful when it comes to their inner lives.
Finally, Eve is led astray by a judgment that the fruit of the tree will make her wise. It's true, in life, that we can gain wisdom from making all sorts of decisions -- both good and bad. Sometimes it is the lessons our bad decisions teach us that are the most compelling.
The serpent never does lie to Eve. Every word out of his mouth is the truth. Yet, always, the serpent fails to tell the whole truth. He slices off a carefully selected segment of truth, one that is calculated to impugn God's motives and puff his listeners up with pride.
The very same thing is true of our own inner voices of temptation. Seldom are we tempted by the blatantly bad things of this world. No, it's those evil things that masquerade as good that cause the most difficulty. As Philip Dormer Stanhope, Fourth Earl of Chesterfield, wrote, way back in the 1700s: "Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight; and would hardly ever seduce us, if it did not at first wear the mask of some virtue."
That process by which we turn vice into virtue, in our minds, is called "rationalization." It's the same process Eve goes through as she ponders whether or not to disobey the Lord and bite into the forbidden fruit. When Eve manages to convince herself that the tree is useful, beautiful, and a source of wisdom, then she is able to do what would otherwise be unthinkable.
Consider all those rationalizations, and how easy they are to deploy in the service of sin. "I'm not committing adultery; I'm just finding the love I need." "I'm not living a greedy lifestyle of over-con-sumption; I'm just pursuing the American dream." "I'm not hurting anybody when I cheat my customers; I'm just following the laws of the marketplace." "I'm not abusing my child; I'm just enforcing a little discipline." Those rationalizations can be deadly.
Yet, there is a way out. It's called grace. Just when we recognize temptation and acknowledge we can't beat it on our own, God enters in and gives us what we need to prevail. It's all a matter of whom we trust. Trust ourselves alone, and we go down in flames. Trust God, and we find, more often than not, the strength we need to resist temptation and live a godly life.
As Jesus says to Satan at the conclusion of his final temptation in today's gospel lesson, "Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him." God alone -- that's what we need to get through any temptation.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, we have heard this ancient story,
that comes from a place deep down in the traditions of your people.
It is a family story, brimming with grief and love and hunger.
In it, we see our own deepest desires and most painful frustrations.
In it, we see ourselves, in all our complexity.
Forgive us when we fail to live lives of faithfulness and trust.
Help us to know, always, that there is a way back from any moral failure:
a way that passes by the cross of Jesus --
that one who was tempted as we are, but without sin. Amen.
To Illustrate
The story is told of a man named Sam who decided he was going to go on a diet. Just to make sure he would succeed, he announced his plan to all his friends and coworkers ahead of time.
Sam was one of those people who are kind of like Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde is the one who remarked, "I can resist anything -- except temptation!" The coworkers were pretty good about giving Sam moral support until the morning he walked into an office carrying a box of freshly baked donuts.
"What's with the donuts, Sam?" one of them asked. "I thought you were on a diet."
"I am," said Sam. "But I want you to know I wouldn't have gotten these donuts if it weren't for God."
Well, that remark seemed to beg for an explanation, so Sam quickly supplied one. "You see, I was driving into work, and I knew I'd have to go right past the bakery. I just couldn't get those donuts out of my mind -- so I decided to pray to God for help. I said, 'God, if you want me to have a box of hot, delicious donuts, give me a parking place right in front of the bakery.' Sure enough, I found one -- on my eighth trip around the block!"
Some of us -- truly -- can resist anything except temptation!
***
C.S. Lewis has a marvelous passage in The Screwtape Letters on the subtlety of temptation. The book contains supposed correspondence between a senior devil, Screwtape, and his nephew and apprentice, Wormwood. In one particular letter, Screwtape addresses the question of whether his protegé ought to reveal his own existence. The answer is no: "I do not think you will have much difficulty in keeping the patient in the dark. The fact that 'devils' are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you. If any faint suspicion of your existence begins to arise in his mind, suggest to him a picture of something in red tights, and persuade him that since he cannot believe in that (it is an old textbook method of confusing them) he therefore cannot believe in you."
It's never the blatant temptations that get us. If a snarling devil were to appear before us in red tights, pitchfork in hand, urging us on in one direction or another, we'd have little difficulty resisting. It's when we hear the hissing of the serpent, whispering sweet reason into our ears, making so much sense, that we have trouble.
***
I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a part of hell will break loose. It'll be much harder to detect.
-- George Carlin
The temptation of Adam and Eve has to do with their putting themselves in the place of God.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7
The Serpent Tempts Eve
After briefly mentioning, by way of background, God's prohibition to Adam and Eve of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (2:15-17), the lectionary jumps ahead to chapter 3, to tell of the serpent's temptation of Eve. This is intentionally paired with today's gospel lesson, Matthew's account of Jesus' temptation. Few biblical stories are as well-known as this one, yet few are so misunderstood. The "tree of the knowledge of good and evil" does not symbolize sexuality, as many have thought, but rather the prideful rush to independent moral judgment -- taking the place of God as the arbiter of good and evil. To eat of the fruit of this tree is to seek to put ourselves in God's place: to judge for ourselves what is good or evil, rather than relying on God's judgment, as expressed in the law. Walter Brueggemann warns against putting too much emphasis on the serpent, which is nothing more than "a technique to move the plot of the story. It is not a phallic symbol or satan or a principle of evil or death" (Genesis, in the Interpretation series [Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982], p. 47). The real emphasis is on the human beings Adam and Eve, and their disobedience. The search for knowledge is not a bad thing. Yet, when it is the sort of knowledge that seeks to put human moral judgment in the place of God's, it is the very essence of sin.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 5:12-19
Adam's Sin, And Its Remedy
In this passage, Paul introduces the concept that later interpreters -- notably Augustine -- have identified as "original sin." In verse 12, we learn that sin -- portrayed, here, as not simply moral disobedience, but a condition of enslavement -- entered the world at a particular point in time: the disobedience of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. It is as though the sin of Adam -- which is no different than the sin of all of us -- were placed on one side of an old-fashioned balance scale. A sufficient weight must be found in order to restore the balance. The only such countervailing weight is "the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ" (v. 15). The redeeming effect of Christ's death is the mirror image of the sin of Adam: for, just as the one action of Adam's sufficed to enslave many people to sin, so the one sacrifice of Christ is sufficient to free many (verses 15, 17). The results of Christ's sacrifice are "justification," "life" (v. 18) and "righteousness" (v. 19). For Paul, sin is so much more than a collection of individual acts of disobedience; it is an inescapable condition. As he says, earlier: "all, both Jews and Greeks, are under the power of sin" (literally, "under sin" -- 3:9). In preaching this passage, the key is to emphasize not the weight of sin, but rather the superior weight of grace: For Paul introduces this imagery not in order to make his readers feel enslaved, but rather to lead them to freedom in Christ.
The Gospel
Matthew 4:1-11
The Temptation Of Jesus
Matthew has just ended his account of Jesus' baptism with God's blessing: "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased" (3:17). Now, as Jesus undergoes temptation in the wilderness, the devil mocks him in strikingly similar terms: "If you are the Son of God..." The devil uses this form of address in two of Jesus' three temptations: commanding stones to become bread (v. 3) and performing the flashy, super-hero trick of throwing himself off the pinnacle of the temple (v. 6). The third temptation, ruling over all the kingdoms of the world (verses 8-9), is not preceded by this formula -- although that is hardly surprising, since the devil's part of the bargain is that Jesus fall down and worship him (which would be to implicitly deny his divine sonship). It is significant that the temptation follows immediately after Jesus' baptism: for it indicates that baptism is no insurance against temptation. If Jesus is tempted so soon after his baptism, then why should we be any different? "Forty days" (v. 2) is, of course, a figurative way of saying "a very long time." It hearkens back both to Moses' forty-day sojourn on Mount Sinai and to Israel's forty-year period of testing in the wilderness. At the threshold of Lent, the temptation -- for all its supernatural strangeness -- is a comforting passage. "For," as the Letter to the Hebrews puts it, "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin" (4:15).
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Old Testament lesson is about a certain woman named Eve, whose story we know all too well. A garden, a tree, a talking snake, and a shiny, red apple -- that's the way the story's come down to us.
The problem is, a lot of other things have come down to us along with it -- things that have nothing to do with what the story would have meant to its original Hebrew audience. The story of Eve, the serpent, and the Garden has become the playground of all manner of creative thinkers -- all of whom think they see something in the story that just isn't there. It's worthwhile taking a few moments to examine some of these mistaken ideas.
The first of these is that it's somehow the woman's fault -- because she is a woman. Unimaginable damage has been perpetrated upon the female gender, over the centuries, because some male theologians decided to read this text as proof that women are morally or intellectually inferior to men. They called women "the weaker sex" -- somehow implying that, if only Adam had been around to keep a closer watch on his wayward wife, the two of them never would have had to leave that prime piece of real estate. This is utter nonsense.
The second mistaken idea is that, as soon as Eve bit into that apple, the human race -- by some sort of dark magic -- experienced a cosmic change of condition known as "the Fall." Every generation yet to come -- because silly Eve took that one, succulent bite of tree-of-knowledge fruit -- was therefore doomed to wage a losing battle with sin.
Well, of course there is such a thing as sin. Sin is a terrible curse. It's something we all experience and struggle against. Yet, did God consign the human race to a perpetual state of sin purely because some prehistoric ancestor swiped a piece of fruit? Of course not! That explanation makes God into a petty, vindictive ruler, with a distinctly stunted sense of justice. That the sins of the fathers -- and mothers -- are visited on succeeding generations may be a great theme of classical literature, but that doesn't mean we need to make it part of our theology. The truth is, we've all got plenty of sins for which to repent -- and they're not Eve's doing, but ours. We don't need to import any sins from Grandmother Eve to establish the fact that we need forgiveness.
The third mistaken idea is that the temptation in the Garden has something to do with sex. This was a big idea in the early Christian church. It was popularized, especially, by one of the greatest theologians of all time, Bishop Augustine of Hippo. Augustine had a convoluted and very fascinating journey into Christian faith. He became a Christian only at mid-life, and wrote about it in a book called The Confessions -- which, as far as we know, is the first autobiography ever written. In his early years, Augustine was quite the ladies' man -- so much so, in fact, that some today would apply to him the modern label of "sex addict." Augustine did eventually triumph over his tormenting addiction, through prayer and faith in Jesus Christ. But, he turned right around and began to teach that all sin is somehow traceable back to that first sexual act between Adam and Eve -- and that, ever since, the physical love between a man and a woman (even in marriage) is shameful.
There's absolutely no mention of sex in the Genesis text -- with the possible exception of that little detail about the man and the woman discovering they're both naked and covering themselves with fig leaves. Why, just a few verses before, God has created Eve to be Adam's partner, and Adam has exclaimed, in delight, "This, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh." It's a clear statement that God intends human beings to delight one another on every level. Why would a single bite out of an apple change God's intention so completely? Adam and Eve are "ashamed," says the Genesis text. They are ashamed at their loss of innocence, perhaps, or ashamed at their disobedience. But, they are not ashamed because they have entered into the physical relationship for which God has specifically created them -- the relationship that is, and ought to be, at the heart of every marriage. That was Augustine reading his own psychological hang-ups back into the story, and his view has caused needless guilt for countless generations of Christian couples.
So what is it Adam and Eve do, that's so terrible? The answer lies in that little phrase, "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." Preachers and scholars have debated for centuries over the symbolic significance of that tree and its forbidden fruit. If we refer to it, in shorthand fashion, as "the tree of knowledge" (as some are inclined to do), it could lead us to imagine that God wants to keep humanity in the dark, to keep us from using our full intellectual capacities. Yet that's not likely what it means at all.
The key lies in that little qualifying phrase "of good and evil." It's not the tree of knowledge at all; it's "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." So what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil? What's bad is that this "knowledge" by rights belongs only to God.
This is not about ethics. God's not mad because Adam and Eve have developed an ethical sense. God's angry because Adam and Eve are daring to put themselves in the judgment seat of God. That's what "the knowledge of good and evil" means. It's what a judge needs to know. The Hebrew word yada, or knowledge, means more than mere cognitive knowledge. It also means an awareness of judgment, of justice. To pursue and claim the knowledge of good and evil means to take on the role of judge, a role that belongs to God alone.
If Adam and Eve aspire to eat the fruit of that tree, it means they want to make themselves into little gods. It means they no longer have any need to revere their creator. The serpent has it exactly right. He explains to Eve, the reason God doesn't want you to eat of the fruit is because, if you do so, "you will be like God." This, of course, is the worst form of idolatry -- the desire to assume for oneself the role of a god. Eve buys it -- hook, line, and sinker. Adam, too.
Yet isn't that what we seek to do, in large ways and in small, each day of our lives? We turn from the God who created us. We believe we can go it alone, in life. So often, we try to convince ourselves we know better than God, that we are independent, that we can chart our own course.
It's what Eve does with respect to the fruit of the tree. Listen to what Eve concludes about the fruit, after talking with the serpent: "So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate" (Genesis 3:6). Look at that verse carefully, and you'll see three reasons why Eve thinks she can legitimately eat the fruit.
The tree is "good for food" -- it's useful, in other words. It's "a delight to the eyes" -- the tree is truly beautiful. And, the tree is "to be desired to make one wise" -- it offers the promise of wisdom. Eve seeks from the tree, in other words, utility, beauty, and wisdom.
These are good things, but they lead her into sin. Yet, isn't that always the way? It's not so much the bad things that lead us astray, as it is the good things -- or, at least, the things that seem to be good.
The first of these is utility -- practical usefulness. When something tempts us, we frequently give into that temptation because there's something about it that seems useful. Utilitarianism is a powerful philosophy, but it's also one that can be ethically blind. Utilitarianism was a school of thought that grew up in England during the 1700s. John Stuart Mill was its chief booster. Mill maintained that just about any ethical decision could be made according to this simple rule: "the greatest good for the greatest possible number of people."
Now that sounds fine, on the face of it, but consider the fact that some of the most destructive movements in human history have used a utilitarian argument to justify themselves. Take the Nazi party, for instance. Hitler and his cronies can be seen as engaging in a particularly rigorous application of John Stuart Mill's decision-making standard. You can justify all manner of atrocities against a minority group if you see those actions as leading to a greater quality of life for the majority.
The Nazis were the ultimate utilitarians. Their scientists could work to develop the deadly gas known as Zyklon B, which the S.S. subsequently used to murder millions in the concentration camps. It was a very "useful" product, that Zyklon B. It got the job done, with a minimum of fuss -- at least for those who ran the death camps. Yes, to the Nazis it certainly was useful -- yet it was also morally reprehensible.
The second thing that tempts the woman, in the story, is the tree's beauty. Our aesthetic sense is a wonderful gift, but it's a poor guide for ethical decision-making. Take a look at the Academy Awards ceremony, on television. All the "beautiful people" of Hollywood will revel in their few seconds of fame, as they step out of their limousines and parade down the red carpet, camera strobes flashing on every side. Cloying commentators will focus on every aspect of the gowns, the make-up, the coiffures. Beauty will be celebrated ad nauseam -- or at least, a certain understanding of beauty. Many of these so-called "beautiful people," with their marital infidelities and conspicuous substance abuse, are in fact anything but beautiful when it comes to their inner lives.
Finally, Eve is led astray by a judgment that the fruit of the tree will make her wise. It's true, in life, that we can gain wisdom from making all sorts of decisions -- both good and bad. Sometimes it is the lessons our bad decisions teach us that are the most compelling.
The serpent never does lie to Eve. Every word out of his mouth is the truth. Yet, always, the serpent fails to tell the whole truth. He slices off a carefully selected segment of truth, one that is calculated to impugn God's motives and puff his listeners up with pride.
The very same thing is true of our own inner voices of temptation. Seldom are we tempted by the blatantly bad things of this world. No, it's those evil things that masquerade as good that cause the most difficulty. As Philip Dormer Stanhope, Fourth Earl of Chesterfield, wrote, way back in the 1700s: "Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight; and would hardly ever seduce us, if it did not at first wear the mask of some virtue."
That process by which we turn vice into virtue, in our minds, is called "rationalization." It's the same process Eve goes through as she ponders whether or not to disobey the Lord and bite into the forbidden fruit. When Eve manages to convince herself that the tree is useful, beautiful, and a source of wisdom, then she is able to do what would otherwise be unthinkable.
Consider all those rationalizations, and how easy they are to deploy in the service of sin. "I'm not committing adultery; I'm just finding the love I need." "I'm not living a greedy lifestyle of over-con-sumption; I'm just pursuing the American dream." "I'm not hurting anybody when I cheat my customers; I'm just following the laws of the marketplace." "I'm not abusing my child; I'm just enforcing a little discipline." Those rationalizations can be deadly.
Yet, there is a way out. It's called grace. Just when we recognize temptation and acknowledge we can't beat it on our own, God enters in and gives us what we need to prevail. It's all a matter of whom we trust. Trust ourselves alone, and we go down in flames. Trust God, and we find, more often than not, the strength we need to resist temptation and live a godly life.
As Jesus says to Satan at the conclusion of his final temptation in today's gospel lesson, "Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him." God alone -- that's what we need to get through any temptation.
Prayer For The Day
Lord, we have heard this ancient story,
that comes from a place deep down in the traditions of your people.
It is a family story, brimming with grief and love and hunger.
In it, we see our own deepest desires and most painful frustrations.
In it, we see ourselves, in all our complexity.
Forgive us when we fail to live lives of faithfulness and trust.
Help us to know, always, that there is a way back from any moral failure:
a way that passes by the cross of Jesus --
that one who was tempted as we are, but without sin. Amen.
To Illustrate
The story is told of a man named Sam who decided he was going to go on a diet. Just to make sure he would succeed, he announced his plan to all his friends and coworkers ahead of time.
Sam was one of those people who are kind of like Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde is the one who remarked, "I can resist anything -- except temptation!" The coworkers were pretty good about giving Sam moral support until the morning he walked into an office carrying a box of freshly baked donuts.
"What's with the donuts, Sam?" one of them asked. "I thought you were on a diet."
"I am," said Sam. "But I want you to know I wouldn't have gotten these donuts if it weren't for God."
Well, that remark seemed to beg for an explanation, so Sam quickly supplied one. "You see, I was driving into work, and I knew I'd have to go right past the bakery. I just couldn't get those donuts out of my mind -- so I decided to pray to God for help. I said, 'God, if you want me to have a box of hot, delicious donuts, give me a parking place right in front of the bakery.' Sure enough, I found one -- on my eighth trip around the block!"
Some of us -- truly -- can resist anything except temptation!
***
C.S. Lewis has a marvelous passage in The Screwtape Letters on the subtlety of temptation. The book contains supposed correspondence between a senior devil, Screwtape, and his nephew and apprentice, Wormwood. In one particular letter, Screwtape addresses the question of whether his protegé ought to reveal his own existence. The answer is no: "I do not think you will have much difficulty in keeping the patient in the dark. The fact that 'devils' are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you. If any faint suspicion of your existence begins to arise in his mind, suggest to him a picture of something in red tights, and persuade him that since he cannot believe in that (it is an old textbook method of confusing them) he therefore cannot believe in you."
It's never the blatant temptations that get us. If a snarling devil were to appear before us in red tights, pitchfork in hand, urging us on in one direction or another, we'd have little difficulty resisting. It's when we hear the hissing of the serpent, whispering sweet reason into our ears, making so much sense, that we have trouble.
***
I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a part of hell will break loose. It'll be much harder to detect.
-- George Carlin
