Saturday, February 17, 2018

“Between the Beasts and Angels” - February 18, 2018



Mark 1:9-15


            Temptation is one of the simplest and one of the most complicated aspects of life.  We all know what it is and can see it plain as day and at the same time we don’t always recognize it when it’s right in front of us.  Temptation is serious, because one wrong choice that looks small (and maybe is small) often has consequences larger than itself and before you know it, you’re stuck in a situation that is beyond you and even your efforts to get out of it just seem to make things worse.  Try out this poem by C.S. Lewis, and see if you don’t know what he’s talking about:

“Nearly they stood who fall.
Themselves, when they look back
see always in the track
One torturing spot where all
By a possible quick swerve
Of will yet unenslaved–
By the infinitesimal twitching of a nerve–
Might have been saved.

Nearly they fell who stand.
These with cold after-fear
Look back and note how near
They grazed the Siren’s land
Wondering to think that fate
By threads so spidery-fine
The choice of ways so small, the event so great
Should thus entwine.

Therefore I sometimes fear
Lest oldest fears prove true
Lest, when no bugle blew
My mort, when skies looked clear
I may have stepped one hair’s
Breadth past the hair-breadth bourn
Which, being once crossed forever unawares
Forbids return.”

            When the gospels of Matthew and Luke talk about Jesus being tempted, they do it in a way that illuminates the ways in which evil disguises itself as good and the importance of staying close to God’s teaching for our own welfare and safety.  But the gospel of Mark describes Jesus’ temptation in a way that, while less precise and less extensive, seems to me to go to the heart of what it can be like to be in the midst of it for the rest of us and what it was also like for him.

“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” [Mark 1:13]

When temptation comes to someone, it’s like being in a wilderness, alone.  It’s like being surrounded by all the dangers that are out there, some of which give themselves away and some of which lurk quietly for the chance to pounce.

            There was a guy named Colin who I knew in Middle School.  He was two years older, so we weren’t buddy-buddy, but we lived in the same neighborhood.  Around that time he got into some trouble and was in a serious fight with a kid from another school.  He was in the hospital for awhile, and after that just sort of faded out and I never really paid attention; I had my own friends, like you do at that age.  Somewhere around ten years ago, somebody passed along a brief obituary with Colin’s name at the top.  At the end it said memorial contributions could be made to the Caron Foundation, so I figured that he had died of substance abuse of some sort.

            Last week I attended a presentation that the bishop arranged at Hempfield UMC, west of Lancaster.  The speaker spoke about opioid addiction, and why it is so hard to get out of it.  He explained that the opioids do some unusual things to the human nervous system.  They can block pain, which is what they are prescribed to do.  They increase a sense of pleasure, which is part of what gets people hooked.  In so doing, however, they destroy the receptors for naturally-occurring dopamines, which are the substances that allow us to feel good in non-harmful ways, like when you feel a sense of accomplishment or when somebody gives you a hug or you feel good after exercising.  These receptors can grow back, but it takes months.  So if somebody gets off the abused drug that they were using to kill pain or make themselves feel good, there will be a long period afterward where they will feel nothing.  They will be emotionally blank or worse.  Meanwhile, the part of their brain that is still craving the drug that destroyed the receptors will keep calling to them and creating physical desire for another hit.

            In the lobby after this, I was talking with someone who is friends with Colin’s mother, and she brought him up.  “You know that’s what killed Colin,” she said.  “He had been clean for a good, long time and was doing okay at work and so his mother and stepfather thought they could go away for a couple of days, and when they got back…” and then she described a scene that I’ll spare you.  The wild beasts: sometimes you hear them out there, howling like a hungry coyote; sometimes they are like a copperhead waiting under a log.  Jesus was out there in that wilderness, and is there now.  He’s the Good Shepherd who leaves a flock of ninety-nine sheep who are all accounted for just to find the one that is missing and may not even know the dangers it faces.

            That brings me to the other part of Mark’s description of what goes on.   Jesus

“was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.”

The word “angel” simply means “messenger”.  Angels are messengers of God.  They might be supernatural or they might be natural.  Like temptation, the message might be loud or it might be subtle.  If you want loud messengers, take the Ten Commandments.  They are pretty straight-forward.  The quieter messengers are there, too, those little voices and gut reactions that something is just a little out of line, and it’s good to listen to them, too.  I disagree with Mike Pence in a lot of ways, but I will give him credit for one thing that he’s taken some heat for.  He says he will not dine alone with a woman other than his wife nor attend functions without her if alcohol is being served.[1]  If he knows his weaknesses, he pays attention to them, and that makes sense. 

            There’s a danger of legalism, too, of course.  Nobody said it would be easy.  In fact, Jesus himself said that

“the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” [Matthew 7:14]

It’s easy, again, to point fingers or to identify one or two activities that are sinful and to say that as long as you stay away from those, you do no wrong.  I had a textbook for an ethics course one time whose title was Money, Sex, and Power.  What if it had been called Making a Living, Relationships, and Getting Things Done?  That would be a little less catchy, but not off-target.  Life is tricky and complex.  No wonder Jesus taught us to pray,

“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

They are out there, both temptation and evil.  Let’s not sugarcoat it, or pretend that we don’t face temptation, when even Jesus did.  We fool ourselves if we think the beasts don’t leave us with plenty of bites and scratches along the way.  But let’s not forget that Jesus is out there, too, and he knows the way when we don’t.

            East of the Jordan, in the wild lands where Jesus may have spent those forty days, is an area that was once called Gilead.  It was known as the source of a medicinal plant, Pistacia lentiscus, that contributed to an antiseptic, anti-irritant ointment called “Balm of Gilead”.  Out in the wilderness, where Jesus has been, the wilderness where we also find ourselves sometimes, there is also healing for the deepest troubles, the things that lead to addiction or despair or to seeking power over others, the things that warp the way we see ourselves or the way we see God, the things that we allow to come between us and his love.

“There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend,
And if you look for knowledge, he’ll ne’er refuse to lend.

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

If you can’t preach like Peter, if you can’t pray like Paul,
Just tell the love of Jesus, and say he died for all.”




[1] http://www.latimes.com/local/abcarian/la-me-abcarian-pence-marriage-20170405-story.html

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