Fasting
and Famished, Yet Faithful
based on Luke 4:1-13
by Rev. Randy Quinn
One
of the first things Mariah learned after coming to live with us was the days of
the week. We had a little song that we sang to help her learn them . . .
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday;
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.
Those are the days of the week; each one has its very own name;
There are seven days in the week, if you know them now you can sing along:
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, Sunday;
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, Sunday.
Learning the days of the week is something we learn early in our lives, so it’s
hard for us to imagine living in a culture where the days don’t have names.
It’s hard for us to imagine living in a society where there is no calendar – or
at least not in the form that we know it.
Ancient civilizations developed their own sense of a calendar, each according to
the things that were important to them. I’m reading a book about a culture that
used their hands to count days. Five days before starting over again. And the
day of the thumb was “market day.”
Most cultures that I’ve read about used the cycles of the moon to develop a
calendar. They typically developed a seven-day cycle associated with each phase
of the moon, using four weeks to make a month. That was true for the Native
Americans and some scholars believe it was also part of the context in which the
creation story of Genesis was told.
For the Native Americans, “a moon” was one way to refer to a period of time.
“Nine moons ago I preached my first sermon in Deer Park.”
The Hebrews had a similar period of time that we call a month. But they also
had another concept of time that was longer than a month. It was a long time,
but not an exact amount of time. That period of time was “forty days.”
I’m convinced that it wasn’t intended to be an exact amount of time, just a long
time – longer than a month, anyway. Long enough that you might lose count
before getting there. In fact, the literal translation of the Hebrew word for
forty is “multiple of four.” It means four plus four plus four plus four plus
four plus four plus four plus four plus four plus four.
See how easy it is to get lost?
It
became a way to refer to long periods of time that have no real set beginning or
ending – not like a month which is known by the cycle and phase of the moon.
Forty days was longer than that.
Every time we read about “forty days,” I believe an accurate paraphrase is “a
long time.”
·
The concept of forty days is used
to speak about the flood where it rained for “forty days and forty nights” (Gen
7 – 9). In other words, it rained a long time.
·
The people mourned Jacob’s death
in Egypt for forty days (Gen 50:3). They mourned a long time.
·
Moses was on Mount Sinai for forty
days (Ex 24:18, 34:28). He was gone a long time.
·
The spies went into Canaan for a
long time. They were gone forty days (Nu 13:25).
·
The giant Goliath stood before
Israel threatening them for forty days (1 Sam 17:16). It was a long time before
David finally responded to the challenge.
·
The prophet Elijah spent forty
days praying in the wilderness (1 Kgs 19:8). He was gone a long time.
It’s easy to see how the number forty became associated with a long time. And
if it was a really long time, they spoke of 40 years.
·
Isaac was forty years old when he
finally married his beloved Rebekah (Gen 25:20).
·
There were several periods of rest
and periods of oppression in Israel during the time of the judges, each lasting
forty years (Ju 3:11, 5:31, 8:28, 13:1).
·
King David ruled over Israel for
forty years (2 Sam 5:4, 1 Kgs 2:11) and so did King Solomon (1 Kgs 11:42).
But clearly the epitome of the concept was the wilderness journey where God
punished the people one year for every day the spies spent in Canaan (Nu
14:34). Forty years for the forty days. A long time no matter how you look at
it.
In
our text for today, Jesus spends a long time praying and fasting. He spent a
long time being tormented and tested and tempted by the Devil. He was there for
forty days.
By
the way, forty days is also the length of time between now and Easter; there are
forty days in the season of Lent – though if you count the days you’ll notice
that there are actually more than forty days between Ash Wednesday and Easter
Sunday.
That’s because the Sundays in Lent don’t count. Sunday is always a day of
celebration. It’s always a day of feasting. It’s always a day in which we
remember the resurrection. Sunday is the Lord’s Day; it is always a celebration
of Easter, a weekly reminder that Jesus was raised from the dead on “the first
day of the week” (Lk 24:1).
So
Lent is the forty days of fasting between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, not
counting Sundays. But either way you count it, Lent will last a long time.
Long enough to make us notice it. For those of us who are using this season as
a time to fast or to practice new disciplines, it will seem especially long.
Lent will be long enough that we will need to be reminded that God is still with
us.
So
we move the altar closer to us.
We
will intentionally gather during the week to pray.
We
will gather around a table as we break bread and offer support to one another.
We
also know that throughout this long season of Lent, we will each experience our
own temptations. Some will be tempted to eat when they should not eat. Others
will be tempted to sleep when they should be awake. Each of us will be tempted
to turn away from the things of God as we look to our own wants rather than the
needs of others.
So
we begin the season by reading, hearing, and reflecting on the story of Jesus’
own temptations. The hope is that in the story of his wilderness journey we
will find strength in our Lenten journey. Our hope is that in his story we will
find courage to face our own temptations.
But it’s easy to read the story of Jesus’ temptations and think it has nothing
to do with us. After all, how many of us have ever been tempted to turn a stone
into bread?
I
remember one Sunday when there was no bread for communion. Our Communion
Steward was out of town and hadn’t remembered to ask anyone to provide bread.
So someone ran home and pulled a loaf of frozen bread out of her freezer. She
‘zapped’ it in the microwave and the put it on the altar.
When I went to break the bread, it was still frozen solid. That morning, we
turned bread into a stone. I can’t remember ever turning a stone into bread.
My
first response to the temptations of Jesus is envy. I wish the temptations I
have experienced had been as overt. I wish I had seen or heard clearly what I
was being tempted by.
Instead, my temptations almost always come in subtle forms. I rarely find
myself facing the question of doing right or wrong; instead I’m faced with
making a choice between doing something not entirely right and doing something
not entirely wrong.
I
don’t think I’ve ever been tempted to spend a weekend with a woman other than my
wife, for instance.
But I know there have been numerous times when I’ve been tempted to spend an
evening reading the newspaper while I ignore my wife. There have also been
times when I’ve been tempted to spend more time working on my sermon than I
really needed to while Ronda is left alone to feed the kids, give them baths, or
read them books.
Fortunately, I’ve never succumbed to the obvious temptations of spending a
weekend with another woman. Unfortunately, I’ve been guilty of ignoring Ronda
more times than I want to admit.
I’ve never been tempted to rob a bank, either. But there have been times when
I’ve been tempted to ignore bank errors in my favor.
So
I hear the story of Jesus being tempted and wish all my temptations were so
clearly stated that I could respond as decisively as he did.
Then I remember that Jesus was tempted in every respect as we have been, but
without sin (Heb 4:15). And I wonder if the temptations of Jesus are as overt
as they seem. What if they are as subtle as my own temptations?
What if the temptation to turn a stone into bread is really about using miracles
to feed the hungry? Jesus used the same power he used when he took five loaves
and two fish to feed 5,000. Since he is as hungry as they were, why not feed
his own appetite? Is it really wrong to make sure he survives this wilderness
experience by eating one loaf of bread?
Jesus is going to die on a cross. Why not draw attention to the fact that he is
doing so willingly by letting the whole world see how God can save him when he
jumps off the tower of the temple? Is it really wrong to help people see more
clearly what it is that God is doing in the life and death and resurrection of
Jesus?
His temptations really are no different than ours. The difference is that he is
clear about his purpose, about his focus, about his mission. He keeps that in
focus and is able to set aside the less important things.
His story reminds us that when we are clear about God’s call in our lives, when
we are clear about God’s purpose for our lives, it is easier for us to stay on
the narrow path as well. Or to put it the other way around, when we lose sight
of where we are going, it’s easy to be lead astray.
Jesus was hungry. He was famished. But he knew God would meet his needs.
Jesus was on a mission, and that mission did not include a spectacular entry
onto the world scene. Nor did it include a political solution to the oppression
of Rome.
He
not only knew who he was, he knew whose he was.
And I believe that when we remember who we are and whose we are, we are more
likely to respond to temptations with the kind of passion Jesus had.
Let’s remain focused on our spiritual disciplines throughout this season of
Lent, resisting all forms of temptation as we grow in our faith and witness the
miracles of God’s grace.
Amen.
