Leviticus 19:1-2, 11-18 (NRSVCE)
“You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
It’s easy to read this verse and be put off by a sense of legalism. Even more so when you realize this verse is in Leviticus, which is filled with rules and restrictions on what you ought and ought not to do. It is a rule, certainly, in that it tells us that we are to conform to a certain standard. But it is also a truth. It describes the nature of our relationship as the created to our Creator. A couple days ago, when we were reflecting on the idea of obedience in the context of Moses’ sermon in Deuteronomy, I mentioned the words of St. Paul, where he says that God is the origin and destination of all things. God is our source and our destination. Our source is holy, in the highest possible sense. And our destination is that same holiness. We must be holy, yes. But we also shall be holy, because we come from what is holy and we will return to what is holy. But it’s not as easy as that. We cannot read that and simply throw our hands up and say “Well, guess I’ll be holy eventually!” Remember that Moses is speaking to the Israelites here—to the people of God. The people of God who have been set apart from the world (hence the word “holy”, which means “set apart”). He goes on in this passage to list a few of the things one must do in order to remain set apart—in order to be holy. You shall not steal, as the world does. You shall not persecute those who cannot defend themselves (i.e., “put a stumbling block before the blind”). You must be just, and do not favor the rich in judgment over the poor (a problem even in our own day). You shall not hate your kin, and correct them when they do wrong, out of love for them. And positively, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. These are things we must do, as the people of God. These are things which will keep us oriented toward our proper destination. They are literal signposts, guiding our path back to our source—back to holiness. We must be holy, for if we are not we can never enjoy our destination (Revelation 21:27). And we shall be holy, if we participate in the graces God bestows on us. If we follow the signposts, if we accept the grace freely offered to us, if we hold fast to the Way (which is Jesus, by the way), we will return to our source. For Jesus says "Follow me", and if we do, we shall be holy. Luke 4:1-13 (NRSVCE) Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time. I love the temptation in the wilderness, because it really showcases the fullness of Christ’s humanity. It’s said all the time “Christ is fully human, here are reasons X, Y, and Z proving it so.” It’s also enshrined in our creeds. And that’s all great. But in this passage, his humanity isn’t some metaphysical reality discussed by theologians. It is much more visceral—much more real.
Think about it. Would the devil have bothered trying to tempt God? Of course not. God cannot be tempted. God is immutable, by nature. He does not change. But in Jesus, God took upon Himself a human nature. Human nature is mutable. We change all the time. The devil succeeded in tempting man once before, and thrust the world into chaos. So it stands to reason that the devil could do it again. If Jesus is truly man, he is able to be tempted—he is able to change. The devil uses all his wit and all his powers of deception and coercion, because he knows this is his chance. It worked on the first Adam. But this time, with the Second Adam, he fails. Jesus resists the temptations that Adam succumbed to. This isn’t merely a symbolic story of how the new Adam prevails where the old Adam failed. It instead showcases the reality of what man is capable of becoming, when he is properly ordered to the will of his Father. There is no more perfect union of man to the will of the Father than in Christ. And Christ shows us how to reorder ourselves: through prayer and fasting. Like Jesus, we must spend this Lenten season denying ourselves the material pleasures we too often put above God. All the world offers us is bread. But we do not live by bread alone. Our life comes from above. By releasing our dependency on things of the world, we are able to focus ourselves on conforming to the will of our Father, by the grace of the Holy Spirit. And it is only by the power of the Holy Spirit within us, as He was in Christ, that we will find ourselves able to resist the temptations of the devil. Christ was tempted, as we are. And we will continue to be tempted. Christ shows us our salvation. Our only hope is to hold fast to our Father, to God. Because it is God who will deliver us from the snares of the devil. Isaiah 58:9b-14 (NRSVCE) If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in. If you refrain from trampling the sabbath, from pursuing your own interests on my holy day; if you call the sabbath a delight and the holy day of the Lord honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, serving your own interests, or pursuing your own affairs; then you shall take delight in the Lord, and I will make you ride upon the heights of the earth; I will feed you with the heritage of your ancestor Jacob, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken. Everything in Isaiah 58 hits on things that are familiar to us. Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, free the oppressed. Stop pointing your finger and speaking evil of others, and you will be blessed. You will be “like a watered garden,” not only filled with God’s blessings but also overflowing so that others will see you as a spring. This is how the faithful ought to behave. We ought to be the vessels of God’s blessing, pouring forth to those in need.
But this isn’t what we see in our society. Instead, we see vilification, demonization, and apathy (even rank hostility) toward things like social justice. We see children being forcibly removed from their parents and incarcerated. We see attempts from our leaders to curtail access to basic necessities and assistance, such as healthcare or food stamps, as well as the branding of those who would seek such assistance as undeserving and undesirable (“They’re just lazy”). We drop bombs on families and write it off as collateral damage. Instead of repairing the breach, we make it larger and reinforce it. Instead of being a light in the darkness, we shield our light, lest it be enjoyed by those we deem unworthy. In this way, we trample the sabbath. We profane it. The sabbath is not merely a day of worship, but it is a day of respite—particularly for the lower classes (Deuteronomy 5:12-15). If we think we can worship God while not only ignoring the needy but even actively taking steps to worsen their situation, then we are hypocrites. We spend our days not doing the works of God, but instead desperately looking for someone, anyone, that we can point a finger at to justify our oppression. It’s a heartbreaking thing to think about, to realize that we are the very thing the Bible warns us about. And even more so to realize that this infection runs so deeply within us, and within the society we have built for ourselves, that even after you see it you are nearly helpless to do anything about it. What can one person do in the face of such evil? The simple answer is to change your own life, and be that light to the people immediately around you. Feed the hungry in your community, clothe the naked in your neighborhood, actively question your own motivations and biases, and support leaders who can impact more widespread change. If you can, become one of those leaders yourself. We’re talking about evil at such a scale that it will never change overnight, and certainly not by one person. But we can make a difference at home, and with enough flickering candles in the darkness, eventually we may finally be that shining beacon we are called to be. Matthew 9:14-15 (NRSVCE) Then the disciples of John came to him, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?” And Jesus said to them, “The wedding guests cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. There are two major things happening in today’s reading. Firstly, there’s the disciples of John trying to trip Jesus up. They ask him why his disciples do not fast, with the implication being that fasting is good and therefore Jesus’ disciples must not be as holy as the Pharisees or the disciples of John, who fast often. They are putting Jesus in a position where he either has to reject fasting, which he cannot do because he himself fasted in the desert, or he has to undo the fasting of the Pharisees and the disciples of John, in which case they get to chastise him for being less holy than they are.
But Jesus doesn’t do either of those things. Instead, he says simply that this is not the time for fasting. The Pharisees and disciples of John fasted twice per week normally, but also even more periods of fasting were added for other things such as for good weather, or to stave off disease, famine, or war, etc. Jesus pins this all down to one thing: mourning. They fast because they mourn. They mourn the lack of rain, or the lack of food. They mourn for the days when Israel was not occupied, for when Israel was still in God’s favor. Jesus does not say they are wrong to mourn these things, which is certainly what they expected. Rather this is not the time for mourning. This is a time for celebration. It is akin to a wedding. After the celebration, after the bridegroom has left, the fasting can resume. But it’s not a fasting like what the disciples of John know. What comes in the following verses (vv. 16-17), just beyond today’s reading, are a few images Jesus gives to illustrate why his disciples don’t fast like the disciples of John. The fasting they know is of the Old Covenant. It is like an old cloak. It served its purpose well, but you don’t attach a new piece of cloth to an old cloak. You make a new cloak. Similarly, you don’t pour fresh wine into an old wineskin. The wineskin will simply burst. Instead, you pour that wine into a new wineskin. This is the point Jesus makes of fasting. Even though his disciples will fast, when he is gone, it will not be the same as before he arrived. The purpose of fasting in the New Covenant is not the same. That’s not to say that fasting under the Old Covenant was bad (which, again, is what they expect Jesus to say), but rather that the fact Jesus has come fundamentally changes everything. He hammers the importance of that point home by calling himself the bridegroom. The Pharisees and the disciples of John will recognize that image right away. It is straight out of Hosea 2. “And I will take you for my wife forever . . . and I will say to Lo-ammi, ‘You are my people’; and he shall say, ‘You are my God.’” This Jesus proclaiming his divinity. God has promised that one day the people will be taken up as the Bride. Jesus reveals here that now is the wedding. Now is the time in which the Church becomes wedded to her bridegroom. Now is the time for celebration. Deuteronomy 30:15-20 (NRSVCE) See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them, I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. “See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity . . . blessings and curses.”
Moses presents a choice to the people. He has laid out the consequences of both options, quite emphatically, and now it is up to them to decide. It seems simple enough when you picture it in the moment. We don’t hear their response, but I can’t imagine anyone standing there that day really thought to themselves “That death option sounds kind of nice, come to think of it.” Surely they would have heeded Moses’ warnings, right? But then, I can’t help but think of how this exhortation must have sounded to the post-exilic people. This passage must have been heart-wrenching for them to hear. Moses laid out the choices clear as day and night. But they failed. They did not choose life, and were thus driven to exile. Moses knew this would happen, as we learn later on (31:16-22). That much is revealed to the exiles. Moses knew. God knew. And yet Moses spent all that time and effort explaining and presenting the choice anyway. They are left with the same question we are in our own time. Why? The answer lies in the very first verse. “I have set before you today”. This isn’t a choice only left for the ancients, for those who stood before Moses as he preached. It isn’t a choice once offered, and forever lost. It’s a choice which must be made in every time, by every person. A choice to live according to God’s will. A choice to obey. It’s the central theme of Deuteronomy: Obedience results in abundance and blessing, while disobedience results in poverty and affliction. But let’s take it a step further than that. It’s not simply a matter of “obey because I am God, and if you don’t I will make you regret it.” If God truly is the source of all things, both the origin and the destination of all things (Romans 11:36), then the idea of “obedience” is not merely “living according to the dictates of another.” It would instead be living in accord with right reason, or perhaps more simply put, orienting ourselves in the proper direction. Disobedience, then, is not just “defiance”. It is quite literally turning your back on what you are. It is leaving the path lit before us by Christ who is our Light, and finding ourselves stumbling around in darkness. “Choose life” does not mean doing what we are told. It means being what we were created to be. It means being human, in the fullest sense. That is the choice Moses presents to his people, and to the exiles, and to us now. The exiles hear the sermon and weep, but they also must rejoice because they are offered the very same choice, just as you and I are. A choice to embrace our humanity, and to follow the path which leads us to God. Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them.”
There’s a reason this is the first words we hear from Christ this Lent. More than any other season, this is a time to be self-aware about our own piety. Give something up, yes. But not for the sake of telling your friends and family about how difficult it is. Do it for purpose of furthering your relationship with Christ. You cut something out of your life during this penitential season, in order to make more room in your life for Him. It sounds cliché to talk about vain piety. Nobody thinks they are being vain when they are talking about their penances, or whatever Lenten challenges are. And I think most people aren’t trying to be. And by all means, don’t hesitate to seek support in your Lenten penances from your friends and family. None of us are alone in Christ. We are all on this journey of faith together. But if you find yourself talking casually with friends or coworkers about what you are doing this Lent, take a second to reflect on why. Am I sounding the trumpet before myself? Am I disfiguring my face so as to be noticed? Even seeing me broach this topic must make me seem a hypocrite. I mean, here I am, writing a very public blog series in Lent, talking about how our Lenten practices ought to be done in solemn silence. Is this not merely me standing and praying on the street corner? And it’s true that I struggle a great deal with vanity. But Jesus is not saying to hide your piety at all times. Jesus gave alms very publicly, he prayed very publicly, and he lived a very public ministry. St. Paul wrote to entire churches about his own pious deeds. There is a difference between vanity and faithful love and support. We aren’t to withdraw within ourselves, hiding our faith and relationship with Christ from the world. We are a Church, first and foremost, and that means turning to each other for guidance, support, and even correction when we falter. We ought not to be braggarts, but we also ought not to be islands. This is something I am trying to be much more aware of in my own life. It’s easy to find yourself only on the two extreme poles of isolation and pride. Lent is the perfect time to focus on finding that “golden mean”. So when you find yourself chatting with friends, family, coworkers, postal workers, pizza delivery folks, overseas tech support, or whoever else about what you’re doing this Lent, take a second to reflect on why you’re doing anything in the first place. Take a second to reflect on Christ. |
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