Shining Light on the Shadows Preached on March 10th, 2019 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 4:1-13 This, the first Sunday in Lent, we hear the story that underlies the season, yet again. The forty days and nights of the season of Lent mirror the forty days and nights Jesus spent in the wilderness in preparation for his ministry. This episode takes place right after Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. At that time the Holy Spirit had descended on Jesus, like a dove. And a voice came from heaven and proclaimed “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” Now the Holy Spirit has led Jesus into the wilderness for a time of fasting and preparation. At the end of the forty days and nights the devil shows up and begins his testing. It’s telling that he waits until Jesus is at his weakest. In English we read that the devil begins with the conditional “If you are the Son of God.” But the word “if” would be better translated as “since” or “as” … “Since you are the Son of God” the devil is not disputing Jesus’ relationship to God. “As you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” To which Jesus’ responds, from scripture “One does not live by bread alone.” The Devil goes on: “I will give you authority and glory over all the nations, if you will worship me, all will be yours.” Jesus responds with part of the Jewish prayer, the She’ma Israel “Worship the Lord your God and serve only Him.” And for a third test, the devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem and says “since you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here … God will send his angels to save you.” And once more Jesus responds from scripture “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” The devil tries to trick Jesus with his lies. He tries to trick Jesus into giving away his identity as Son of God. If Jesus succumbs to magic or stunts, turning stones into bread, or throwing himself off the pinnacle of the temple … if he turns his allegiance over to the devil, in order to rule the world … Jesus will no longer be God’s Son. Jesus will be stripped of the power given to him by God, and the devil will win. Jesus’ resists, because Jesus is the Son of God. Once Jesus shines a light on the devil’s lies, the devil disappears. He cannot stand the truth. On Wednesday evening, we observed Ash Wednesday worship with our neighbors, Quincy Point, United Church of Christ. During the reflection on the beginning of Lent, we talked about a new Lenten practice: “getting real for Lent.” Getting real means showing on the outside of ourselves what is on the inside. Lent is a time for confession and repentance: a time for telling the truth and turning toward God. It is a time for standing in the light of Christ, and allowing that light to penetrate what we are hiding in the dark corners of our souls. It is a time for getting real. Molly Phinney Baskette, pastor, writer and church revitalizer, discovered something called the “liturgist program” when she came to pastor First Church in Somerville. Each week in worship, a different person, the “liturgist”, makes a public confession of sin and vulnerability. The liturgist begins with the words: “Now is the time when we bring our stories before God.” They tell a story they have prepared, which is related to the scripture passage for the day. There are stories of love and betrayal, addiction and recovery, anxiety and depression. At the end of each story there is a prayer and silence, and then the liturgist gives the Assurance of Grace. The assurance is the epilogue to the story. It tells the ways in which the liturgist discovered God in the midst of their struggle, along with the assurance that they had received God’s grace. Baskette says this practice of humility and truthfulness saved their church’s life. As Baskette says in her book “Naked Before God”, you might think that church is the place we go to be unmasked – to be truthful about who we are, what are our insecurities and fears. [1] And yet, we know this often isn’t the case. Even in these days, people feel the need to come to church with in their Sunday best. Faces are scrubbed and hair is neatly combed. Year ago, when our children were young, I remember talking to a woman whose family had recently begun attending our church. She and her husband had six children in their blended family. This woman told me of the time she spent laundering and ironing all their clothes for church, and washing and brushing their hair. She’d confessed to me that as she swung her minivan into the church parking lot, she was cursing under her breath from the stress of it all. I never did convince her that church is a place that she and her children could come “as they were.” And, yet, isn’t church the place we can come as we are? Although I am convinced of this, I am still tempted to “paint a pretty picture” in my sermons and reflections. I remember one of my first sermons at my home church. It was during Advent, and there happened to be a substantial snowstorm. Sunday School was cancelled, but worship was still on. My husband stayed home with the kids while I went to the service. My home church pastor and I had conducted a dialogue sermon, taking the parts of Mary and Joseph, reflecting on their journey to Bethlehem and the birth of Jesus. I loved the idea of getting inside Mary’s persona, connecting the story with the context of the time. I wanted to project Mary’s courage and grace in bringing the infant Jesus into the world. I enjoyed the compliments I received from the congregation afterwards. I drove in state of serenity, until I arrived home. The kids had been out playing while my husband was shoveling snow. They had then stuffed their snow pants and jackets, snow, grit and all, into the drier. I arrived home to hear the salt and sand ricocheting around in the drum. I just about hit the roof! And then was so sad that I’d lost my temper with the kids, right after I’d just “performed” the perfectly serene Mary. I was sorry that I had soured what could have been a lovely day. A few days later my pastor told me that a member of the congregation had said he’d imagined a halo over my head as I told Mary’s story. I laughed so hard, as I told my pastor that that halo had slipped dramatically the minute I arrived home! Looking back, it was the story of the grit in the drier and my angry reaction, that I needed to share with the congregation. Baskette says the “raw unprocessed side of our nature, [is] what Jung calls the ‘shadow side’”. To tell the truth about the shadow side is to shine light onto it. When light is shined onto a shadow, the shadow disappears like the devil in the desert. We are reluctant to reveal our shadow sides, though, especially in church. We guard our privacy carefully. At our Pancake supper on Tuesday, we talked about the penitents of early Christianity. People were mortified by the notion that in those times, those who had sinned egregiously were required to wear sackcloth and ashes for the entire season of Lent. Their sins were on display for the 40 days of penitence, after which they may have been received back into the community of the church. I am truly glad that we do not practice this kind of shaming any more. Instead, my hope is that we could learn to become more transparent, more real, during Lent so as to be open to God’s abundant mercy and grace. Molly Baskette wisely curates the stories members of her congregation wished to share. Sometimes a “real story” can be too raw and can provoke anxiety or re-traumatize the hearers. Baskette calls this “floodlighting”: the storytelling is used by the teller to meet their own unmet needs. We all need some time for healing, before we are ready to tell our stories in a public setting. The intention of the liturgist program is to tell stories of grace, rather than sharing open wounds. If your story is not ready for prime time, fear not! There are other places where light can be shone in the shadowy corners. Our small groups, such as the book group or our weekly Lent groups might be a good setting for your story. If not please meet with me, your pastor, with a trusted friend, or a therapist. Sometimes seekers from outside the church come through our doors to looking for some kind of healing. They may seek healing from loneliness and lack of connection. Or perhaps they are looking for a community that will help them in their recovery from addiction. Some come with the pain of anxiety and depression. Their expectations are often high. After all, we are the people who are supposed to have it all figured out. We are supposed to treat one another with kindness and love all the time. We “have the love of Jesus in our hearts.” Sadly, we have to disappoint those high expectations. But I hope we will not disappoint those who are looking for God’s grace and mercy. The first step in showing God’s grace and mercy, is to confess our own need. When we bring our stories before God and before the congregation, there will be touching points. Confessions ring true. People who struggle with the same issues are reminded that they are not alone and there is hope. When we recognize our own need of grace, it is so much easier to be gracious to others. The devil will try to tell us lies. He will say that our members and guests want to see the magic of stones turned into bread. He will say that they expect this church to show power and influence in the public square. He will say that they are hoping for dramatic stunts. To defeat the devil’s lies, we simply need to shine a light on who we really are and who we are called to be. And so, this Lent, may we begin our practice of “getting real.” Jesus will be true to his calling as Son of God. And we will be his humble truth-seeking followers. [1] Phinney Baskette, Molly, Standing Naked Before God: The Art of Public Confession, (Cleveland, The Pilgrim Press, 2015), 9
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