Lent vs. The Fitness Industry and pretty much everything that drives commerce.
By Debbie Blue
Gospel Reading: Matthew 4: 1-11
For Sunday, March 13, 2011: Year A − First Sunday in Lent
One very cool thing about the church is that we have this season where we look at death. We start it out by smearing ashes on our foreheads and remembering we are dust and will return to dust. It creates a different vibe than you get from watching American Idol. It’s a nice counter narrative to the infinite narratives that suggest if you do the right thing (take fish oil, post cleverly, exercise in strenuous short outbursts, buy hot shoes, do something outrageous--eat dog cockroaches if you have to on TV) you can avoid insignificance, possibly aging, maybe even death.
Bright Sadness or Blind Happiness
We set aside a season to contemplate what death is, if it has power, how it has power, and what it means that our founding narratives are about a God that becomes human, lives a short fairly inglorious life, and then suffers a humiliating and painful death. The Eastern Orthodox refer to Lent as the season of Bright Sadness. That seems like a good season to have in a culture that insists on happiness—fake, plastic, blind—it doesn’t matter, just please don’t spoil the mood.
The Forties
In the lectionary, the season begins with the story of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness (Lent is 40 days, it rained 40 days, Moses was on Sinai 40 days, etc) after which he faces the devil. I spent too much time (http://www.textweek.com/art/temptation.htm) looking at some of the ways this scene has been depicted through art history. Sometimes the devil is a beautiful young boy, sometimes he is insect-like with chicken feet. In one sketch he looks like a dandy fellow with a feather jutting from his hat and a picnic basket slung over his arm. I’m thinking more slick and slippery, Justin Timberlake playing Sean Parker.
Bread and Circuses
The Devil strokes Jesus’ ego (or maybe challenges it), “You’re like…. a god, man, do something spectacular—throw yourself down, lift yourself up, make a little magic, brother. Take the challenge.” Matthew is writing in the context of the Roman Empire and the Caesars certainly knew how to make a little magic and lift themselves up and gain the approval of the masses and rise to power: Bread and Circuses-- spectacle, power, and free food. And they certainly made themselves significant in a world altering way. Jesus refuses the whole Bread and Circuses approach. He won’t take power. He won’t make magic bread, he won’t call the angels in for drama.
The Devil’s Machismo
Before the Buddha begins his ministry he faces a similar scene. He is tempted by Mara (the personification of death, the embodiment of delusion). The tempter in these stories is, like, psychedelically macho—he is mounted on an enormous elephant, he sprouts 1,000 strong arms, he brandishes fancy weapons. The devil in Matthew’s story seems less over-the-top, similar I think, but more quiet about it. He proposes that Jesus be the kind of leader people like to follow: powerful. The Devil, here, seems to have more personality than Jesus—who sort of woodenly quotes scripture without displaying much charisma. Maybe that’s part of the point?
The Central Moment
The central figure of our faith at this central moment in his ministry refuses the will to power. Matthew is probably telling this story recognizing what it looks like juxtaposed with the Caesars. Jesus has none of the machismo that the Roman’s perfect.
The Hardest Question
With Christ as its leader, with these stories as its founding narratives, how did the church end up taking such an opposite direction? The Holy Roman Empire? The Mighty Fortress? The mega church?
Debbie Blue is one of the founding pastors of House of Mercy in St. Paul, MN, the author of Sensual Orthodoxy and From Stone to Living Word. She lives on a farm with her family, friends, and animals
