Reflections on the Readings for the First Sunday in Lent: Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7;
Psalm 32; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11
Here we are a few days into Lent, and we are faced with two stories and an allegory. The
allegory, the second reading, assigns a meaning to the first of the stories. It is a possible
explanation but not the only one. Yet St. Paul’s allegory about Christ has so prevailed that we
tend to forget what the original tale is about. It is about the sin of self-sufficiency. The first story
from Genesis is simplicity itself. It has three characters. Literary people call this the rule of
three: there once was an Englishman, a Scot, and an Irishman; or a rabbi, a priest, and and a
minister. In this case it is a man, a woman, and a snake. The story is not a whimsy, though. It is
told in deadly earnest. It explains how evil entered the world. At first all was orderly. A stream
welled up out of the earth, watering the soil in every direction. You know about the parched
deserts of the Middle East from which the Bible came, so you can tell we are launched on a
fantasy. Then idyll is broken. Stark reality appears in the form of the clay of the earth and the
breath of life. Together they make the human creature, Adam in Hebrew, made from the ruddy
soil, Adamah.
He stands there in the midst of Eden, a paradise of pleasure.
Now all this happened far to the East, which helps you to know how
mysterious the whole thing was. The man is given a wife – he needs
company, a partner in sex and marriage, and the beasts recently
fashioned will not do. What makes the pair strangers in paradise is
that tree. No, not the tree of life. Every other tale in the ancient
world had a tree of life. It was the other tree, the one that gave
knowledge of good and evil.
Bill Bell, USA (1938 – )
You can see that this is a pretty simple tale. Enter the snake. The snake for the ancient Semite
was not so much wicked as cunning. It slithered through the grass and laid low the unwary. It
shed its skin as it emerged from hibernation and moved onto a second career. The snake was a
living parable of sexuality, with fire in its tip at the thrust. And it talked. Wily, clever talk, lying
talk, setting the man against the woman and the woman against the man — and both, poor
fools, against God. “God is envious of you, you know. Made you innocent, even a little dumb.
But God is insecure. He doesn’t know how long his superiority will last.”
When the Greeks told this story they had a chap named Prometheus who stole fire from the
gods. The Jews’ tale was of a pair that stole the mystery of life and the way to pass it on. They
stole God’s wisdom from God and it made a terrible difference. “Then the eyes of both were
opened and they realized they were naked.” Have I said that this is a tale of sexuality and its
used? Well, yes, at one level, it is. The interesting thing is, the part about shame has nothing to
do with the part about sex. Nakedness to the Semite meant humiliation, being brought low. if
you were despoiled of the clothes which preserved human dignity, nakedness made you a
laughingstock.
It is the simplest of tales. It is the profoundest of tales. It is about basic human arrogance, the
sin of self-sufficiency. Humanity is told to trust. It refuses to trust and pays the price. Indeed, it
does know good from evil and wishes to God it didn’t.
The second tale is just as simple as the first. This time the characters are two but the setting,
which is threefold, makes the third: the desert, the parapet of the temple, and the high
mountain. Without these, the tale could not be told. Jesus’ adversary is named simply that:
diabolos, in Greek, “adversary.” Maurice Denis, France
(1870-1943)
He is more. He is “the tester” (Matthew
4:3). Of old there was a talking serpent.
Now you have a talking angel. But in both
cases as tempter. The gospel tale does not
go as far back as human origins but only to
Israel’s origins as a liberated people,
sorely tempted as they were on Sinai. Would they have enough to eat, they wondered, would
they make it to Canaan, would they continue to worship the one God? They failed all three
tests miserably – sustenance, safety, power. Their God offered all three benefits to them, and
they refused. But where Israel, God’s daughters and sons, would not trust, Jesus, God’s son, did
trust. The power of Jesus’ obedience is stronger than the power of the devil’s rebellion. He is
the true Adam, image of God (Hebrews 1:3). He is the source of lie, the source of good (John
17:1-2).
Lent is upon us, making its demands. They are not demands of self-control for we are not Stoic
philosophers. We are followers of Christ, the baptized. That means that in him we obey God
and can be strong. We do not trust in our own powers, to succumb thereby to weakness. We
are human, sprung from the first Adam who trusted in himself. Death reigns in us because of
sin. The gift of the second man, Jesus Christ, is overflowing grace and righteousness. In him we
can live. We need not die.
A single offence brought condemnation to all, but a single righteous act brought all acquittal
and life. It is the business of Lent, quite simply, to help us know that, to bring home to us that
our true strength lies in our obedience like that of Jesus, not a trust in self alone like that of
Adam.
Whatever our sin, it comes down to a lack of trust in the One who sustains us. Is cynicism our
sin? Is it sex with people to whom we have no commitment? Psychic support from more drink
than we need? Deriving that life from the instant superiority which bad-mouthing others
affords? In every case it is a lack of trust a turning to the creature as our saviour. We make a
settlement with our need that is of our own devising. We seek an integration of our unfulfilled
selves, an end to the alienation of our being that goes much deeper. It can be in other areas like
household tyranny or making peers at work look bad to heighten our small authority, our
greater skill. All sin is a dull business. It does not require zipping up to the parapet of the temple
or seeing all the kingdoms of the world. An overview of our tiny little world will do.
Pamela Suran, Israel
Lent is a healing time, coming to our senses, acknowledging
where our happiness lies time. It is a season to help us trust
in God and not ourselves – which is the whole meaning of our
redemption.
Kevin+
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