Each of us, at some point in our lives, will find ourselves in a wilderness. We will find ourselves isolated—by sickness or sorrow; by oppression or depression; by time or distance. And there in that wilderness we will probably find out who we are.
Imagine this wilderness: You are a young girl, an African American slave, held by a wealthy plantation owner. You have none of the rights enshrined in our Bill of Rights—no right to free speech, or religion, or liberty, or justice. You don’t have the right to your own life. Even your parents have no rights were you are concerned (unless, of course, your father happens to be your owner).
Imagine that wilderness. And now, brought to us by our own Arianna Neal, hear the story of the particular wilderness of Alberta Strauss, the property of Master Rudolph Strauss of Pin Oak Plantation of Wrens, Georgia.
(Arianna presents Alberta’s monologue/ journal entry).
Each year on the first Sunday in Lent we read this story, the story of Jesus being tested in the wilderness. Matthew tells us Jesus is tested, by tou Diabolou—literally, the Adversary. Not tempted, mind you—temptation is something else. This is about testing, trying. The Adversary wants to know, in the end, who and what Jesus really is. What he’s made of.
This takes place immediately after Jesus’ baptism—remember that moment, a moment we keep returning to. Remember:
Jesus came up out of the water.
The heavens were opened. God’s Spirit descended, like a dove.
A voice from heaven spoke, saying: “This is my beloved Son. He pleases me, exceedingly.”
But then, immediately, the Spirit leads Jesus to this time of testing, of the Adversary poking and prodding and trying to find out the answer to just one question: is Jesus is really God’s beloved Son?
And each challenge starts like this: IF you are the Son of God…
IF you are the Son of God, how about performing just one, little miracle, to fill that empty stomach of yours?
IF you are the Son of God, how about proving it by throwing yourself off the highest tower of the temple and showing me a nice, soft landing?
At this point, sensing how things are going, the Adversary cuts to the chase: How about you just bow down, and let’s just take over everything ourselves, just you and me?
Jesus isn’t fooled. The Adversary doesn’t get it. For Jesus, being the Son of God means embracing the fullness of his humanity. The Adversary reads him wrong. For Jesus, it isn’t about surviving in the wilderness at all costs, but about being there for us, when we are in the wilderness.
Alberta Strauss experienced the wilderness of chattel slavery in the United States, a brutal and soul-crushing life for a child sold away from her mother. The slave labor of at least twelve generations of Africans created enormous wealth for the slaveholders. Across those same twelve generations, the children of God who were held captive paid the price in trauma and family separation and unimaginable torture and loss.
Most of us won’t experience a wilderness approaching anything like that experienced by Alberta Strauss. But we will experience our own: a wilderness of confusion or loss; of trauma or tedium; of addiction or paralysis. We will find ourselves outside the Garden, and we may not know what hit us.
My best image for Jesus in this moment? Aziraphale. I don’t know how many of you have been able to see the series “Good Omens,” based on the novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. It’s an entirely irreverent, probably offensive, and definitely heretical story about the last two weeks before the end of the world, as seen through the eyes of an angel and a demon who are best buddies, and trying to prevent the whole thing from happening. Aziraphale is the angel. Here’s the key to Aziraphale’s character: He is the angel whom God stations outside the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve have been sent off into their own wilderness. The scripture tells us, God places an, armed with a flaming, turning sword, to guard the way to the tree of life. In “Good Omens,” Aziraphale is that angel, and he feels so sorry for Adam and Eve, he gives them the sword.
That’s Jesus. Here he is in the wilderness, with all the power he needs to slide on through as God’s beloved child. But he is not interested in wielding power, but in giving it away. He is not interested in presto-change-o-ing rocks into bread, but in getting down to the business of feeding the hungry people he meets along the way. He is not interested in jumping off a tower onto a magical safety-net, but in helping us to learn that we’re one another’s safety-nets in a perilous world. He is not interested in bowing to anyone but God alone, the One who called him “Beloved,” and he is very interested in helping us get to know and love and serve that very same God ourselves.
We will all walk through the wilderness at some point, but we will never be alone there. Be not afraid. He goes before us, always.
Thanks be to God. Amen.