Did you know that the two most common stress dreams for North Americans are showing up unprepared for the test, and being naked in public? I bet just my mention of those dreams makes a few of us feel anxious, because they are such unsettling experiences. I haven’t had a stress dream for a while, because the last big test I took was my ordination exams, almost a decade ago. And I have to wear so many layers of clothing—at least in church—that there’s little chance of forgetting to get dressed.
But today’s readings could easily awaken all those primal fears. In fact, they mention exactly those two. Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit and suddenly noticed they were naked, and Jesus was tested repeatedly in the wilderness.
Since Matthew—especially among the evangelists—was constantly reinterpreting on Old Testament stories to explain the mission of Jesus, it’s interesting to read today’s Gospel in parallel with Deuteronomy chapters 6 through 8. There we find Moses reflecting on God’s testing of Israel in the wilderness. The exact same tests Jesus underwent, in fact, albeit in reverse order. From Deuteronomy 8: “He therefore let you be afflicted with hunger, and then fed you with manna, a food unknown to you and your ancestors, so you might know that it is not by bread alone that people live.” From Deuteronomy 6: “You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test,” and also “The Lord, your God, shall you fear; him shall you serve.” Jesus was clearly being presented by Matthew as passing the same tests that his ancestors failed.
It’s easy to think of Lent as a time of temptation and testing, especially when we kick off the season with readings like these. And in many ways the church encourages this when we recommend disciplines that most of us don’t succeed in keeping. Not that it’s not worth the effort to pray more, feast more, give more and study more. Whether we white-knuckle our way through Lenten commitments, or break our fasts on Sundays (as is definitely permissible since Sunday is always a little Easter) or gobble a chocolate bar on the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, at least we’ve noticed how easily we’re tempted. Which is how we learn about ourselves, our longing for God, and our distractibility. Through both our good intentions and our failures to fully live into them, God teaches us about the limitations of our human nature, and about God’s unlimited grace.
Even though our lectionary has lined up a bunch of readings about testing this morning, the Biblical narrative is entirely different from a stress dream. The Israelites didn’t exactly keep their commitments to God, but they nevertheless lived and thrived and bequeathed us their stories. Adam and Eve broke the one rule and encountered shame, but Jesus took away all condemnation. Including the ways in which we are inclined to condemn ourselves. The lessons of the Bible are not so much about the negative consequences of failing an exam, but rather about the importance of trusting God and continuing to learn. This was as true for the Israelites following Moses as it is for we who seek to follow Jesus. The question for the people of God is not about who fails or passes the test, but rather about how we listen to God.
We heard it last week in the Gospel of story of Jesus’ transfiguration: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased… listen to him!” Which is also a certain kind of reframing of Deuteronomy. From chapter 6, verses 4-6: “Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. Therefore, you shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength” This command became Israel’s central prayer, the Shema. Shema is the Hebrew word translated “hear!” but it means more than passively listening to. It is a directive to respond and to bravely live it out what is heard.
“By the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous,” wrote Paul in his letter to the Romans. He was drawing a sharp distinction between Adam and Jesus; between the mythological man who was tempted and failed, and the messianic one who was steadfastly obedient to God. We tend to gloss over this language, perhaps because obedience is not a high priority for Episcopal Christians. But understanding the word in New Testament context is essential to our practice of faith. Obedience comes from the root ob audire: to hear responsively. Obedience in the Biblical tradition means more than simply carrying out orders. Like the Hebrew Shema, it means listening deeply and actively—to the commandments and to Church teaching, of course, but also to prayer and the sacred voice of our own conscience.
Over the next few Lenten weeks, you’ll have the chance to hear from Trinity members who have listened to and responded—obediently, I’d venture to say—to church teaching Specifically, to the five commitments we make as baptized Christians. You can find them on pages 305-305 in the Book of Common Prayer. They’re part of our Baptismal rites, but let me summarize them briefly. We commit to continue in the Apostles teaching, prayer and fellowship; to resist evil and repent when needed; to proclaim and enact Good News; to serve Christ in everyone; and to strive for justice and peace.
We affirm that “we will, with God’s help” in response to these questions at every Baptism. But living them out in the between times is the costly work of discipleship. Which God didn’t ever expect us to have to do alone, neither during Lent nor anytime. As all those readings from Deuteronomy remind us, God called Israel to be a people on a common journey. And filled our sacred scriptures with the stories of persons and families and tribes doing their best to listen and respond faithfully. Our cathedral is full of stories like that too. So let me invite you to listen to each other; during Lenten Sundays at noon and Wednesdays at 6:00.
I’m guessing that for our Trinity storytellers, it feels a little naked to talk about the high calling of Christian Baptism in public. I hope they are not having stress dreams about it! But it’s no accident that we meet Adam and Eve self-consciously unclothed in our Old Testament reading this first Sunday of Lent. You might think of this season as our annual invitation to see ourselves as God sees us: stripped of our pretenses, stressing over the test, heading out into a spiritual wilderness unsure of who or what will tempt us. That is simply the truth of the human condition, which Lent will lay bare for us.
But at the same time, Lent will remind us—if we let it—that that there is not some other well-dressed version of ourselves that God loves more. It is to our human frailty and mortality that Jesus comes, for God so loved the world. And if, at the end of Lent, we can recognize anew the enormity of that gift and rejoice in it, then we shall have passed the only test we ever need to worry about.
