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The first Sunday in Lent. Traditionally, the Sunday that we preach about Jesus going into the wilderness. Jesus tempted by the devil. Jesus fasting.
But this year, we asked to think about Bread. Bread for the journey. Bread-sharing. In sharing bread, in sharing our gifts, in being together, we can celebrate, yes celebrate (even in Lent), the abundance of God’s love and compassion throughout our lives.
When Jesus was out there in the wilderness, what did he think about? What was going through his mind? Did he dream dreams? Did he waffle back and forth about his methods? From the little snapshot we get, his mind was filled with his Scripture—what we call the Old Testament. Maybe he rehearsed the calls to Abraham, to Moses, to Samuel, to Jeremiah in his head. Maybe he thought of the mighty acts of God in freeing God’s people (put into almost credal form in our reading from Deuteronomy today “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor …”). Maybe he prayed the Psalms. Maybe he was silent, hoping he would hear God’s still, small voice.
So today, we are going to follow in Jesus’ footsteps and muse about God and God’s people, focusing on the text from Deuteronomy.
Now the first thing we have to say is that the words of this text are disturbing. It is passages like this in the Hebrew Scriptures that are used as proof-texts that certain people have the sole right to live on the land we call Israel today. Many wars, and much bloodshed has come about because of this “Promised Land” and the Promised Lands that came after—think of North America and Australia—all places where immigrants displaced those living in a certain region. So how are we supposed to read this?
Norman Habel, a professor with deep ecological leanings, thinks we need to ask these questions:
“We must make a choice [in our interpretation] in the light of the Gospel. Is it consistent with the Gospel to view the land of another people as terra nullius, land without legal inhabitants who can be dispossessed and conquered? Is it consistent with the message of Jesus Christ that only with the advent of missionaries is the active presence of God to be recognized in a land? Is it true to the cross of Christ to have others – and the land – suffer so that we who believe we have the promise can possess and prosper?” (Promised Land? Whose Land? From Lent 2016, Seasons of the Spirit)
The famous part of this passage, which we read together, starts out “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor…” Do you notice that we start out with no set place to lay our head. We were wandering. We started out one place, went to another, always on the move. It is only by God’s grace that we find a home.
We were badly treated. “…the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us.” We were abused, oppressed, down-trodden. We didn’t climb the ladder of success. We didn’t pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. It is only by God’s grace that we were rescued and lifted up.
This is where the idea of “first fruits” comes in. This passage is often quoted when talking about why we are to give tithes and offerings to God. Giving the first of the fruits is not really about making sure the church, the house of God, continues on. It’s not a bill to be paid, or a tip, or what we have left-over. The idea of first fruits, of giving back, is a sign of acknowledgment, a sign of thankfulness, a sign of the truth of the overwhelming gifts of God. It points to the fundamental, the foundational point, the cornerstone of faith.
Everything belongs to God—
the fruit of the harvest,
the land under our feet,
even our very selves—
we are God’s own.
This may seem like a very foreign concept—in this day and age of owning property, of reveling in our consumer oriented culture of MINE, of pride in being our own person—what do you mean that it is all God’s? I can hear us all saying, “I worked hard for what I have.” “I’m willing to share of my bounty, but I’ve earned this.”
The story of Jesus in the desert is instructive. The devil, the wily one, keeps asking Jesus to show off, to prove to everyone how special he is, to take the power and acclaim he deserves. And Jesus says, No, No, No.
“One does not live by bread alone.”
“Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”
“Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”
Jesus knows.
The first fruits of the harvest, the wheat to be made into bread, the fruit of the vine, belong to God.
The power and authority, the kingdoms of the world, the land we live on, belong to God.
Our lives, what we decide to do with our bodies, with our minds, with our all, belong to God.
God’s.
It is all God’s.
And what are we supposed to do with the fruit of the land, with the land, with ourselves?
We are to mirror the activity of God.
“Then you, together with the Levites and the aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord your God has given to you and to your house.”
We are to celebrate.
We are to sit down at table with our kin, and the Levites (all who serve the Lord), and the aliens (those who are not us, but live near us).
Together we are to share the bounty that God has given us. Never forgetting it is God’s bounty.
That is a difficult task. That is the struggle that we
face each and every day. That is what Jesus faced in the wilderness—the answer to the human questions:
Who do you belong to?
What is the bedrock of your life?
Where will you find nourishment?
What will you do with the gifts
God has given you?
I can only imagine that Jesus would have heard, blaring in his ears, the cry in the temple, the blast from the shofar, the voices of those gathered to worship:
Shema Israel: “Hear, O Israel. The Lord our God, the Lord is One. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Deut. 6:4)
Amen and Amen.
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