Where shall we begin?
Commentary
We may find it hard sometimes to know where to begin. You face an enormous job, and you wonder, "Where should I begin?" At the time of this writing, the authors have just returned from a fabulous tour of some of the important biblical sites in Greece and Turkey. We were immersed in archeological digs, the ruins of famous cities, and the rich cultural background of that region of the world. Upon our return, people kindly asked: "How was your trip? Tell us about it." And we would look at one another and silently ask, "Where shall we begin?"
Where shall we begin this Lenten journey? Having undertaken the Lenten disciplines implicit in Ash Wednesday, we stand at this first of five Sundays before the passion and resurrection. Many of us have stood at this point many times, every year for many years. So, how do we do it this year?
Our lessons all suggest the same starting place for us, namely, baptism. It may seem strange to address baptism on the first Sunday in Lent. Yet, Jesus began his ministry with baptism, and with our baptisms we all began our journeys as Christians. So might it not be an appropriate starting gate for this Lent? What do the lessons suggest about baptism as our beginning point?
Genesis 9:8-17
God's covenant with Noah is a beginning for both God and all of creation. After God's destruction of creation, the Lord now promises Noah that such destruction shall never again result from divine anger. Although this narrative is often included among the accounts of the other covenants God makes with Israel, this agreement is different. It amounts to nothing more than God's unconditional promise. Notice that Noah and his family are not asked to make any kind of commitment; they have no role to play in the agreement. This is God's agreement with God's self, shared with humanity.
As a whole, Genesis 9:1-17 deals with God's reestablishment and encouragement of the remnant of humanity left after the flood. In effect God is clarifying the rules for life. In that context, God makes a covenant. Notice that God has been describing human behavior in verses 1-7, and then begins the new section with "As for me," meaning this is the new rule for life from the divine side. The word covenant means nothing more than an agreement regarding a relationship. Suppose a child does something seriously wrong, and the parents must reprimand her for her behavior. She responds, "I promise I'll never do it again!" Mom and Dad accept the child's promise as sincere and dependable. In that situation, a covenant is made -- an agreement -- which is based on the child's pledge. The covenant affects the relationship between the child and parents. The covenant with Noah is comparable, for it depends on God's promise and changes the relationship between God and humans, indeed with the whole of creation.
Verses 8-11 relate God's promise with an emphasis on inclusiveness. The promise includes all of Noah's descendants and all "living creatures." The promise in verse 11 is stated in a parallelism: the second statement ("never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth") restates what the first statement says ("never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood"). The repetition of "never again" however is striking.
Verses 9-17 are devoted to the sign God gives as a reminder of the divine promise. The other covenants also often, but not always, contain such a sign (for example, circumcision as a sign of the covenant with Abraham in Genesis 17). In this case, it is "the bow in the clouds." The rainbow will always testify (even for God -- verse 16) to the divine promise. But why the rainbow? God is in effect hanging up the warrior's bow in the clouds. God will never again resort to violence to defeat human wrong. The enemy is now defeated, and God has no use for the warrior's weapon. Perhaps the repetitious character of these verses is an indication of their origin in oral storytelling in which such repetition is necessary and common.
Walter Brueggemann in his commentary on Genesis (Interpretation, Westminster John Knox Press, 1982) emphasizes that God's "never again" means that with this promise God breaks the cause and effect relationship between sin and suffering. The flood is the clearest example of how, if humans sin, God punishes them with death and destruction. The covenant with Noah now makes clear once and for all that suffering does not arise from God's punishment of sin. We wish that all Christians could find that message in the rainbow and in God's promise to Noah. The tendency for us to try to find the cause of suffering in sin seems to be a persistent and durable tendency.
Noah and his descendants and all of creation begin again with this promise from God. This passage marks a new beginning, even a new creation. Forever after, God's relationship with humans shall be different, and hence ours with God. A promise from God is always a new beginning, even if it comes again and again. God's promise to us in our baptisms likewise marks the place we begin and the origin of our Christian journeys. To begin the Lenten trek to the cross entails being reminded once again of God's commitment to us and our welfare.
1 Peter 3:18-22
The author of this document (whether Simon Peter or another) makes a clear connection between baptism and God's relationship with Noah. Verse 21a claims that God's act of saving "a few" from the destruction of the flood "prefigures" baptism. "Prefigures" means in this case that the salvation of some "through water" in Noah's time is like or provides a precedent for the salvation of the humans today through the water of baptism. While the comparison seems a bit of a stretch, surely the new beginning with God's covenant with Noah is comparable to the new beginning we have in baptisms.
The passage is set within a discussion of suffering. Verses 13-22 are the author's attempt to strengthen the readers in their times of suffering for their faith. Suffering is a prominent theme in 1 Peter (see for example 2:19-24), and that fact has sparked a good deal of discussion of the setting and occasion for the writing of this "letter." Was the suffering the result of deliberate and physical persecution of the Christians, or was it the consequence of the social isolation and alienation of the Christian community? Whichever is true, what interests us is that the author immediately at verse 18 turns to Christ's sufferings as the model for and encouragement within suffering. The reading contains the author's almost creedal like statement of Christ's death, resurrection, and mission "to the spirits in prison." This statement of Christ's passion and resurrection leads then to the second part of the reading in verses 21-22, which focuses on baptism and its effect on our lives.
We cannot resolve the ambiguous meaning of verse 19, which seems to be one of the possible sources of the phrase "descended into hell" in the Apostles' Creed. It is not at all clear just who these "spirits in prison" are, but tradition has identified them (as this text encourages us to do) with those sinners lost in the great flood. It is important, however, to note that it is the resurrected Christ who undertakes this mission, and hence the mission is the work of the ascended Lord. The point, however, is more pastoral than theological. Readers can be assured that even the worst of sinners are the object of God's love in Christ and that, if Christ preached to these spirits, Christians ought then to extend their ministry to all people.
Verse 21 declares outright "baptism ... now saves you," and then attempts to identify how that salvation takes place. The implication is that the benefits of Christ's suffering "once and for all ... in order to bring you to God" (v. 18) are available through baptism. But what in the world does the "appeal to God for a good conscience" have to do with it? The Greek word which the NRSV and RSV both translate "appeal" also means "pledge" which some believe makes more sense here. Suppose we think of baptism as a pledge to God from (rather than "for") "a good conscience"? The author is then saying that baptism entails or initiates a full and unqualified commitment to God. Verses 21b-22 suggest that our baptisms should be viewed in the light of the exaltation of the risen Christ. Might this suggest that in baptism the heavenly Christ promises to pull this commitment from us? The commitment has more to do with God's saving act than with our decision.
With all of its complications, this reading makes clear that baptism is that divine act which initially washes us with water and brings us into relationship with our Creator. As such, baptism is the beginning of salvation, and entails our ongoing pledge of ourselves to God. Baptism is where we begin the journey of discipleship. It is our orientation to God's salvation. We remember our baptisms daily because they are the definitive point of origin. Many of us try to remember our family of origin and our early environment as a way of keeping in touch with our roots and with what shaped us from the beginning. We remember our baptisms for much the same reason, for they are our roots in the faith. Baptism is the place we begin.
Mark 1:9-15
The first Sunday of Lent always involves reading one of the accounts of Jesus' temptation. This feature of the lectionary probably originated in the idea that Lent is a time for us to wrestle with our own temptations. Whether or not that is a sufficient reason for this selection of a Gospel lesson, the temptation stories are rich with meaning for our lives and our Lenten pilgrimages. The Gospel of Mark, however, provides us with the starkest and shortest account of Jesus' temptation. Unlike Matthew and Luke, this Gospel tells us nothing specific about the nature of those temptations in the wilderness. (The Gospel of John has no temptation story of any kind.) So, what are preachers to do on the first Sunday of Lent in cycle B?
Even though it is also in Matthew and Luke, in Mark the relationship among the three segments of our reading emerges more clearly: the baptism of Jesus (vv. 9-11), Jesus' temptation in the wilderness (vv. 12-13), and the beginning of his ministry (vv. 14-15). Because Mark's account is so bare, the close connection of these three stands out in a way it does not in the other two Synoptic Gospels. The Gospel of Mark is known for its simplicity of style and for its fast pace. Some 42 times, this Gospel uses the word "immediately" to connect episodes in Jesus' ministry, creating a sense of rapid progress in the narrative. Even in this reading of seven verses, the word "immediately" occurs twice (vv. 10 and 12).
So, what do we learn from confronting the close association of these three episodes? Mark demonstrates that temptation always follows close on the heels of baptism, and ministry arises from baptism and is always done in the context of continuing temptation. Before exploring these lessons in more detail, there are a few additional features of this reading that deserve mention.
Mark speaks of the heavens' being "torn apart" (v. 10). The verb suggests a power only God has -- the power to split the heavens. It also suggests Isaiah 64:1, which is a prayer that God would come down in power to save the people. Mark wants there to be no doubt that Jesus has the Spirit of the only One who can divide the heavens. The voice from heaven confirms Jesus' identity of which the reader has been informed in 1:1. However, the event is Jesus' vision ("he saw") and the words are addressed strictly to him. This is not a public event as Matthew and John (compare Matthew 3:17 and John 1:34) would have us believe, but a private experience.
The first thing one notices about Mark's temptation story is the verb used in verse 12 -- "the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness." The Greek word literally means "throw out". Contrast this word with the verb "led" used in Matthew 4:1 and Luke 4:1. The harshness of Mark's expression suggests that Jesus has no choice in the matter. The movement was by a mighty power, like that which could split the skies. We have little choice in the matter, too, since we are thrown into temptation without ever willing it or even consenting to it. "Forty days" is reminiscent of Israel's trek in the wilderness during which they too faced temptation. However, it is also a favorite biblical word for an extended period of time. "Wilderness" is ambiguous in the biblical literature, since it was in the wilderness that Israel disobeyed God but also the region in which they first confronted their God. Hence, wilderness has potential to evoke faith as well as threaten it. Still, in this context the most obvious association of Jesus' time in the wilderness is with John, the baptizer, who dwelt in the wilderness (1:4). Jesus continues the baptizer's ministry. The presence of "wild beasts" is uncertain. Some say that they represent Satan in Mark's story, and others claim they only decorate the wilderness.
The most shocking thing about Mark's sketch narrative is that it never tells us whether or not Jesus overcame the temptations. Most of us, accustomed as we are to Luke's and Matthew's longer narratives, simply assume that Jesus defeated Satan's efforts to destroy his sense of call. What could Mark mean by this glaring omission? We are to assume Jesus' success, since he goes on in the next verses to begin his ministry. Maybe, however, Mark wants us to ponder the possibility that Jesus' temptation -- his struggle with evil -- goes on throughout his whole ministry and is only defeated in the cross.
"After John was arrested" (v. 14) indicates Jesus' respect for John's ministry. He seems not to want to compete in any way with this strange prophet out of the wilderness. The fourth Gospel is the only Gospel to claim that Jesus and John had concurrent ministries. For Mark the dramatic act of John's arrest means a crucial time has come for Jesus, and he must now begin his own ministry ("the time is fulfilled," v. 15). The content of Jesus' message is "gospel" even as the evangelist entitled this whole document (see 1:1). The good news is that God's reign of the world is near. Evil will no longer rule creation, for God has begun the process of reclaiming the creation for its Creation. The Greek word for "kingdom" refers to the rule itself and not the region over which the rule is exerted. So, the "kingdom of God" is the presence of God and the divine will, wielding power and overthrowing the status quo.
The proper response to this announcement, according to Jesus, is most simple. First, turn away ("repent") from whatever it is to which you cling and which gives you hope. Second, simply believe that God's rule is present. Believing that the kingdom of God is "at hand" surely means looking for its evidence around you but also submitting yourself to the divine will and allowing it to redirect your life. Notice how similar Jesus' message is to that of the baptizer in 1:4. The difference is that John called for repentance because of the one who is about to come, and Jesus called for it because the kingdom was near. If God's rule is in Jesus himself, then there is no difference between these two preachers.
What a rich passage this is, in spite of the fact that it appears so simple and stripped of details. To repeat: Temptation always follows close on the heels of baptism and ministry arises from baptism and is always done in the context of continuing temptation. Baptism is no inoculation against temptation, sin, and failure. Rather, the washing simply equips us with a presence that enables us to bear the temptation. That presence does not mean that we will always defeat temptation, even as Mark did not assure us that Jesus defeated his temptation. We may indeed yield to the temptation (and hence we keep praying week after week, "lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil"). In baptism God grabs hold of us, claims us as children of God, and will not let us go. That divine presence then follows us through the temptations, whether we resist or yield to them, nudging us on and holding us in the grasp of love.
However, when baptism is a place we begin, we go out from it into service of God and our neighbor. Ministry follows baptism and temptation as surely as day follows night. Our baptisms are not for our private enjoyment but for the service of God's reign in this world. So, we announce the coming of the presence and will of God with word and with our lives; we try to embody the kingdom as Jesus embodied it in his deeds. All the while, we continue to wrestle with the beasts of life -- with the dangers of disobedience and failure and with the threat of confusing the good and the evil. Like Jesus, there is no complete defeat of evil in our world and hence in our ministries. However, we have the promise that in the cross God has won the final victory over sin and death.
Where shall we begin? We begin where Jesus began -- with our baptisms. Our Lenten pilgrimage takes our washings in the Spirit as it point of departure.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Genesis 9:8-17
This passage contains what is known as the Noachic Covenant -- God's covenant with Noah. It forms the first of the series of covenants that make up the Priestly history in the Old Testament. The Priestly Writers (P) envisioned Israel's history as proceeding in a series of covenants with God, each covenant characterized by a covenant "sign," and all leading toward the climax of God's dwelling in the midst of his people when his glory descends to the tabernacle on Mount Sinai (Exodus 40:34-38). First, there is this covenant with Noah, accompanied by the sign of the bow in the clouds. Then there is the covenant with Abraham, marked by circumcision (Genesis 17), and finally there is the covenant with Israel on Mount Sinai (Exodus 24:1--Exodus 40:38), of which the Passover is the sign. At the end of Exodus, then, the Lord dwells with his people, and they are his people, and he is their God, which is the covenant formula.
In a sense, however, this Noachic covenant is misnamed, for it is not simply a covenant with Noah and his family. Rather, it is a covenant with every living creature on the face of the earth (vv. 8-11, 15-17). God promises here in our text that the waters will never again cover the earth to destroy all living creatures, as they did in Noah's time. And the rainbow in the clouds is a sign to all flesh that God will keep his promise.
This is entirely a covenant of grace. Unlike the other covenants of the Lord in the history of Israel, this covenant in Genesis 9 makes no demand upon Israel or upon other living things. God simply graciously promises that he will not again destroy them by the waters of the flood.
To understand the merciful dimensions of that promise, we must understand how the Priestly Writers view the flood in the time of Noah. In P's account, it is said that "all the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heaven were open" (Genesis 7:11). That contrasts with the Yahwistic account (J), woven together with P, that simply says that it rained forty days and forty nights (Genesis 7:12). P is much more radical than that. Those writers say, "The great deep burst forth."
To understand what the "great deep" is, however, we must turn back to Genesis 1. The Priestly Writers say in that chapter that "in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." In other words, before God made everything there was nothing but void, darkness, chaos, absence of life, all symbolized by the figure of the "deep" or chaotic waters. And God's action in creation was to bring forth order and life, goodness and light, by ordering the chaos and keeping it in check. "Who shut in the sea with doors," asks God of Job . "and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, 'Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed'?" (Job 38:8, 10-11). In his act of creation, God banished the forces of darkness and chaos, lifelessness and evil. And he then held them in check, so chaos would not return to engulf the earth.
In the story of the flood in the time of Noah, however, P reports that "the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence" (Genesis 6:11). And so God said to Noah, "I have determined to make an end of all flesh" (Genesis 6:13), and God followed through on that determination by allowing the waters of chaos to burst forth and to cover the world once again.
But now, here in our text, God's mercy prevails, and he promises Noah and his descendants and all living creatures that he will never again allow the earth to return to its chaotic state, unillumined by light or swallowed up by the void of death. In other words, good Christians, the Priestly Writers are telling us in this story that the very structure of our world, the life of every living thing including us, and the processes of all of nature continue only because God made a promise to preserve them and is keeping that promise. God did not wind up the universes like a clock and then leave them to themselves. No. God sustains and preserves it all, and you and I know order on the earth only because of the grace of God. So our meterologists can tell us on television exactly when the sun is going to rise and set, can't they? And our astrologers can tell us the exact positions of all the stars at any time of year. You and I can count on the force of gravity holding our feet to the ground so that we don't fly away when we step out the door. We can be certain that the position of the sun will mark the seasons, and yes, we can pinpoint on our calendars each year when Christmas and Easter are going to come. There is order on the earth, because God preserves it, and all living things are recipients of that gracious order. A "common grace" will be preserved by God for all flesh. That is the promise God makes to Noah and all his creation here in this Noachic covenant. And so we can praise our God for that grace he bestows and glory in his faithfulness, not only when we see a rainbow in the clouds after a shower, but every day as we enjoy the goodness of God's creation.
The Priestly Writers are very realistic, however -- no pious stuffed shirts unacquainted with the ways of the world are they! Throughout the history of the Old Testament, P is also very conscious of the fact that chaos is still out there, threatening. Beyond our circle of light, there is darkness still; beyond our goodness, evil. Death still stalks around the edge of every life, and chaos can return. Job put it in the figure of a dragon: "Leviathan can be roused," he wrote (Job 3:8). And the prophet Jeremiah, for the sins of his compatriots, saw God loosing chaos once more, in his wrath against an earth that is still violent and corrupt (Jeremiah 4:23-26). Do we have any plea or excuse before the Lord our God for our corruption of ourselves and his earth -- any more than all humankind had in the time of Noah? Do we too not deserve the destruction by chaos that God loosed in Noah's flood?
We have only one plea, don't we? -- that the Son of God has taken all our corruption upon himself on the cross and died in our place to forgive us our constant sins, and so counted us always righteous in the eyes of our God. That's what our epistle lesson in 1 Peter 3 is about this Sunday morning. And that, too, is the incredible gift of the grace of our merciful God.
So we have a lot for which to thank God at the beginning of this Lenten season, don't we? -- for the mercies of order and life that surround us on every side and that are new every morning. But above all, for the gift of God's only Son, full of the grace of the Lord.
Where shall we begin this Lenten journey? Having undertaken the Lenten disciplines implicit in Ash Wednesday, we stand at this first of five Sundays before the passion and resurrection. Many of us have stood at this point many times, every year for many years. So, how do we do it this year?
Our lessons all suggest the same starting place for us, namely, baptism. It may seem strange to address baptism on the first Sunday in Lent. Yet, Jesus began his ministry with baptism, and with our baptisms we all began our journeys as Christians. So might it not be an appropriate starting gate for this Lent? What do the lessons suggest about baptism as our beginning point?
Genesis 9:8-17
God's covenant with Noah is a beginning for both God and all of creation. After God's destruction of creation, the Lord now promises Noah that such destruction shall never again result from divine anger. Although this narrative is often included among the accounts of the other covenants God makes with Israel, this agreement is different. It amounts to nothing more than God's unconditional promise. Notice that Noah and his family are not asked to make any kind of commitment; they have no role to play in the agreement. This is God's agreement with God's self, shared with humanity.
As a whole, Genesis 9:1-17 deals with God's reestablishment and encouragement of the remnant of humanity left after the flood. In effect God is clarifying the rules for life. In that context, God makes a covenant. Notice that God has been describing human behavior in verses 1-7, and then begins the new section with "As for me," meaning this is the new rule for life from the divine side. The word covenant means nothing more than an agreement regarding a relationship. Suppose a child does something seriously wrong, and the parents must reprimand her for her behavior. She responds, "I promise I'll never do it again!" Mom and Dad accept the child's promise as sincere and dependable. In that situation, a covenant is made -- an agreement -- which is based on the child's pledge. The covenant affects the relationship between the child and parents. The covenant with Noah is comparable, for it depends on God's promise and changes the relationship between God and humans, indeed with the whole of creation.
Verses 8-11 relate God's promise with an emphasis on inclusiveness. The promise includes all of Noah's descendants and all "living creatures." The promise in verse 11 is stated in a parallelism: the second statement ("never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth") restates what the first statement says ("never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood"). The repetition of "never again" however is striking.
Verses 9-17 are devoted to the sign God gives as a reminder of the divine promise. The other covenants also often, but not always, contain such a sign (for example, circumcision as a sign of the covenant with Abraham in Genesis 17). In this case, it is "the bow in the clouds." The rainbow will always testify (even for God -- verse 16) to the divine promise. But why the rainbow? God is in effect hanging up the warrior's bow in the clouds. God will never again resort to violence to defeat human wrong. The enemy is now defeated, and God has no use for the warrior's weapon. Perhaps the repetitious character of these verses is an indication of their origin in oral storytelling in which such repetition is necessary and common.
Walter Brueggemann in his commentary on Genesis (Interpretation, Westminster John Knox Press, 1982) emphasizes that God's "never again" means that with this promise God breaks the cause and effect relationship between sin and suffering. The flood is the clearest example of how, if humans sin, God punishes them with death and destruction. The covenant with Noah now makes clear once and for all that suffering does not arise from God's punishment of sin. We wish that all Christians could find that message in the rainbow and in God's promise to Noah. The tendency for us to try to find the cause of suffering in sin seems to be a persistent and durable tendency.
Noah and his descendants and all of creation begin again with this promise from God. This passage marks a new beginning, even a new creation. Forever after, God's relationship with humans shall be different, and hence ours with God. A promise from God is always a new beginning, even if it comes again and again. God's promise to us in our baptisms likewise marks the place we begin and the origin of our Christian journeys. To begin the Lenten trek to the cross entails being reminded once again of God's commitment to us and our welfare.
1 Peter 3:18-22
The author of this document (whether Simon Peter or another) makes a clear connection between baptism and God's relationship with Noah. Verse 21a claims that God's act of saving "a few" from the destruction of the flood "prefigures" baptism. "Prefigures" means in this case that the salvation of some "through water" in Noah's time is like or provides a precedent for the salvation of the humans today through the water of baptism. While the comparison seems a bit of a stretch, surely the new beginning with God's covenant with Noah is comparable to the new beginning we have in baptisms.
The passage is set within a discussion of suffering. Verses 13-22 are the author's attempt to strengthen the readers in their times of suffering for their faith. Suffering is a prominent theme in 1 Peter (see for example 2:19-24), and that fact has sparked a good deal of discussion of the setting and occasion for the writing of this "letter." Was the suffering the result of deliberate and physical persecution of the Christians, or was it the consequence of the social isolation and alienation of the Christian community? Whichever is true, what interests us is that the author immediately at verse 18 turns to Christ's sufferings as the model for and encouragement within suffering. The reading contains the author's almost creedal like statement of Christ's death, resurrection, and mission "to the spirits in prison." This statement of Christ's passion and resurrection leads then to the second part of the reading in verses 21-22, which focuses on baptism and its effect on our lives.
We cannot resolve the ambiguous meaning of verse 19, which seems to be one of the possible sources of the phrase "descended into hell" in the Apostles' Creed. It is not at all clear just who these "spirits in prison" are, but tradition has identified them (as this text encourages us to do) with those sinners lost in the great flood. It is important, however, to note that it is the resurrected Christ who undertakes this mission, and hence the mission is the work of the ascended Lord. The point, however, is more pastoral than theological. Readers can be assured that even the worst of sinners are the object of God's love in Christ and that, if Christ preached to these spirits, Christians ought then to extend their ministry to all people.
Verse 21 declares outright "baptism ... now saves you," and then attempts to identify how that salvation takes place. The implication is that the benefits of Christ's suffering "once and for all ... in order to bring you to God" (v. 18) are available through baptism. But what in the world does the "appeal to God for a good conscience" have to do with it? The Greek word which the NRSV and RSV both translate "appeal" also means "pledge" which some believe makes more sense here. Suppose we think of baptism as a pledge to God from (rather than "for") "a good conscience"? The author is then saying that baptism entails or initiates a full and unqualified commitment to God. Verses 21b-22 suggest that our baptisms should be viewed in the light of the exaltation of the risen Christ. Might this suggest that in baptism the heavenly Christ promises to pull this commitment from us? The commitment has more to do with God's saving act than with our decision.
With all of its complications, this reading makes clear that baptism is that divine act which initially washes us with water and brings us into relationship with our Creator. As such, baptism is the beginning of salvation, and entails our ongoing pledge of ourselves to God. Baptism is where we begin the journey of discipleship. It is our orientation to God's salvation. We remember our baptisms daily because they are the definitive point of origin. Many of us try to remember our family of origin and our early environment as a way of keeping in touch with our roots and with what shaped us from the beginning. We remember our baptisms for much the same reason, for they are our roots in the faith. Baptism is the place we begin.
Mark 1:9-15
The first Sunday of Lent always involves reading one of the accounts of Jesus' temptation. This feature of the lectionary probably originated in the idea that Lent is a time for us to wrestle with our own temptations. Whether or not that is a sufficient reason for this selection of a Gospel lesson, the temptation stories are rich with meaning for our lives and our Lenten pilgrimages. The Gospel of Mark, however, provides us with the starkest and shortest account of Jesus' temptation. Unlike Matthew and Luke, this Gospel tells us nothing specific about the nature of those temptations in the wilderness. (The Gospel of John has no temptation story of any kind.) So, what are preachers to do on the first Sunday of Lent in cycle B?
Even though it is also in Matthew and Luke, in Mark the relationship among the three segments of our reading emerges more clearly: the baptism of Jesus (vv. 9-11), Jesus' temptation in the wilderness (vv. 12-13), and the beginning of his ministry (vv. 14-15). Because Mark's account is so bare, the close connection of these three stands out in a way it does not in the other two Synoptic Gospels. The Gospel of Mark is known for its simplicity of style and for its fast pace. Some 42 times, this Gospel uses the word "immediately" to connect episodes in Jesus' ministry, creating a sense of rapid progress in the narrative. Even in this reading of seven verses, the word "immediately" occurs twice (vv. 10 and 12).
So, what do we learn from confronting the close association of these three episodes? Mark demonstrates that temptation always follows close on the heels of baptism, and ministry arises from baptism and is always done in the context of continuing temptation. Before exploring these lessons in more detail, there are a few additional features of this reading that deserve mention.
Mark speaks of the heavens' being "torn apart" (v. 10). The verb suggests a power only God has -- the power to split the heavens. It also suggests Isaiah 64:1, which is a prayer that God would come down in power to save the people. Mark wants there to be no doubt that Jesus has the Spirit of the only One who can divide the heavens. The voice from heaven confirms Jesus' identity of which the reader has been informed in 1:1. However, the event is Jesus' vision ("he saw") and the words are addressed strictly to him. This is not a public event as Matthew and John (compare Matthew 3:17 and John 1:34) would have us believe, but a private experience.
The first thing one notices about Mark's temptation story is the verb used in verse 12 -- "the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness." The Greek word literally means "throw out". Contrast this word with the verb "led" used in Matthew 4:1 and Luke 4:1. The harshness of Mark's expression suggests that Jesus has no choice in the matter. The movement was by a mighty power, like that which could split the skies. We have little choice in the matter, too, since we are thrown into temptation without ever willing it or even consenting to it. "Forty days" is reminiscent of Israel's trek in the wilderness during which they too faced temptation. However, it is also a favorite biblical word for an extended period of time. "Wilderness" is ambiguous in the biblical literature, since it was in the wilderness that Israel disobeyed God but also the region in which they first confronted their God. Hence, wilderness has potential to evoke faith as well as threaten it. Still, in this context the most obvious association of Jesus' time in the wilderness is with John, the baptizer, who dwelt in the wilderness (1:4). Jesus continues the baptizer's ministry. The presence of "wild beasts" is uncertain. Some say that they represent Satan in Mark's story, and others claim they only decorate the wilderness.
The most shocking thing about Mark's sketch narrative is that it never tells us whether or not Jesus overcame the temptations. Most of us, accustomed as we are to Luke's and Matthew's longer narratives, simply assume that Jesus defeated Satan's efforts to destroy his sense of call. What could Mark mean by this glaring omission? We are to assume Jesus' success, since he goes on in the next verses to begin his ministry. Maybe, however, Mark wants us to ponder the possibility that Jesus' temptation -- his struggle with evil -- goes on throughout his whole ministry and is only defeated in the cross.
"After John was arrested" (v. 14) indicates Jesus' respect for John's ministry. He seems not to want to compete in any way with this strange prophet out of the wilderness. The fourth Gospel is the only Gospel to claim that Jesus and John had concurrent ministries. For Mark the dramatic act of John's arrest means a crucial time has come for Jesus, and he must now begin his own ministry ("the time is fulfilled," v. 15). The content of Jesus' message is "gospel" even as the evangelist entitled this whole document (see 1:1). The good news is that God's reign of the world is near. Evil will no longer rule creation, for God has begun the process of reclaiming the creation for its Creation. The Greek word for "kingdom" refers to the rule itself and not the region over which the rule is exerted. So, the "kingdom of God" is the presence of God and the divine will, wielding power and overthrowing the status quo.
The proper response to this announcement, according to Jesus, is most simple. First, turn away ("repent") from whatever it is to which you cling and which gives you hope. Second, simply believe that God's rule is present. Believing that the kingdom of God is "at hand" surely means looking for its evidence around you but also submitting yourself to the divine will and allowing it to redirect your life. Notice how similar Jesus' message is to that of the baptizer in 1:4. The difference is that John called for repentance because of the one who is about to come, and Jesus called for it because the kingdom was near. If God's rule is in Jesus himself, then there is no difference between these two preachers.
What a rich passage this is, in spite of the fact that it appears so simple and stripped of details. To repeat: Temptation always follows close on the heels of baptism and ministry arises from baptism and is always done in the context of continuing temptation. Baptism is no inoculation against temptation, sin, and failure. Rather, the washing simply equips us with a presence that enables us to bear the temptation. That presence does not mean that we will always defeat temptation, even as Mark did not assure us that Jesus defeated his temptation. We may indeed yield to the temptation (and hence we keep praying week after week, "lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil"). In baptism God grabs hold of us, claims us as children of God, and will not let us go. That divine presence then follows us through the temptations, whether we resist or yield to them, nudging us on and holding us in the grasp of love.
However, when baptism is a place we begin, we go out from it into service of God and our neighbor. Ministry follows baptism and temptation as surely as day follows night. Our baptisms are not for our private enjoyment but for the service of God's reign in this world. So, we announce the coming of the presence and will of God with word and with our lives; we try to embody the kingdom as Jesus embodied it in his deeds. All the while, we continue to wrestle with the beasts of life -- with the dangers of disobedience and failure and with the threat of confusing the good and the evil. Like Jesus, there is no complete defeat of evil in our world and hence in our ministries. However, we have the promise that in the cross God has won the final victory over sin and death.
Where shall we begin? We begin where Jesus began -- with our baptisms. Our Lenten pilgrimage takes our washings in the Spirit as it point of departure.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Genesis 9:8-17
This passage contains what is known as the Noachic Covenant -- God's covenant with Noah. It forms the first of the series of covenants that make up the Priestly history in the Old Testament. The Priestly Writers (P) envisioned Israel's history as proceeding in a series of covenants with God, each covenant characterized by a covenant "sign," and all leading toward the climax of God's dwelling in the midst of his people when his glory descends to the tabernacle on Mount Sinai (Exodus 40:34-38). First, there is this covenant with Noah, accompanied by the sign of the bow in the clouds. Then there is the covenant with Abraham, marked by circumcision (Genesis 17), and finally there is the covenant with Israel on Mount Sinai (Exodus 24:1--Exodus 40:38), of which the Passover is the sign. At the end of Exodus, then, the Lord dwells with his people, and they are his people, and he is their God, which is the covenant formula.
In a sense, however, this Noachic covenant is misnamed, for it is not simply a covenant with Noah and his family. Rather, it is a covenant with every living creature on the face of the earth (vv. 8-11, 15-17). God promises here in our text that the waters will never again cover the earth to destroy all living creatures, as they did in Noah's time. And the rainbow in the clouds is a sign to all flesh that God will keep his promise.
This is entirely a covenant of grace. Unlike the other covenants of the Lord in the history of Israel, this covenant in Genesis 9 makes no demand upon Israel or upon other living things. God simply graciously promises that he will not again destroy them by the waters of the flood.
To understand the merciful dimensions of that promise, we must understand how the Priestly Writers view the flood in the time of Noah. In P's account, it is said that "all the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heaven were open" (Genesis 7:11). That contrasts with the Yahwistic account (J), woven together with P, that simply says that it rained forty days and forty nights (Genesis 7:12). P is much more radical than that. Those writers say, "The great deep burst forth."
To understand what the "great deep" is, however, we must turn back to Genesis 1. The Priestly Writers say in that chapter that "in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." In other words, before God made everything there was nothing but void, darkness, chaos, absence of life, all symbolized by the figure of the "deep" or chaotic waters. And God's action in creation was to bring forth order and life, goodness and light, by ordering the chaos and keeping it in check. "Who shut in the sea with doors," asks God of Job . "and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, 'Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed'?" (Job 38:8, 10-11). In his act of creation, God banished the forces of darkness and chaos, lifelessness and evil. And he then held them in check, so chaos would not return to engulf the earth.
In the story of the flood in the time of Noah, however, P reports that "the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence" (Genesis 6:11). And so God said to Noah, "I have determined to make an end of all flesh" (Genesis 6:13), and God followed through on that determination by allowing the waters of chaos to burst forth and to cover the world once again.
But now, here in our text, God's mercy prevails, and he promises Noah and his descendants and all living creatures that he will never again allow the earth to return to its chaotic state, unillumined by light or swallowed up by the void of death. In other words, good Christians, the Priestly Writers are telling us in this story that the very structure of our world, the life of every living thing including us, and the processes of all of nature continue only because God made a promise to preserve them and is keeping that promise. God did not wind up the universes like a clock and then leave them to themselves. No. God sustains and preserves it all, and you and I know order on the earth only because of the grace of God. So our meterologists can tell us on television exactly when the sun is going to rise and set, can't they? And our astrologers can tell us the exact positions of all the stars at any time of year. You and I can count on the force of gravity holding our feet to the ground so that we don't fly away when we step out the door. We can be certain that the position of the sun will mark the seasons, and yes, we can pinpoint on our calendars each year when Christmas and Easter are going to come. There is order on the earth, because God preserves it, and all living things are recipients of that gracious order. A "common grace" will be preserved by God for all flesh. That is the promise God makes to Noah and all his creation here in this Noachic covenant. And so we can praise our God for that grace he bestows and glory in his faithfulness, not only when we see a rainbow in the clouds after a shower, but every day as we enjoy the goodness of God's creation.
The Priestly Writers are very realistic, however -- no pious stuffed shirts unacquainted with the ways of the world are they! Throughout the history of the Old Testament, P is also very conscious of the fact that chaos is still out there, threatening. Beyond our circle of light, there is darkness still; beyond our goodness, evil. Death still stalks around the edge of every life, and chaos can return. Job put it in the figure of a dragon: "Leviathan can be roused," he wrote (Job 3:8). And the prophet Jeremiah, for the sins of his compatriots, saw God loosing chaos once more, in his wrath against an earth that is still violent and corrupt (Jeremiah 4:23-26). Do we have any plea or excuse before the Lord our God for our corruption of ourselves and his earth -- any more than all humankind had in the time of Noah? Do we too not deserve the destruction by chaos that God loosed in Noah's flood?
We have only one plea, don't we? -- that the Son of God has taken all our corruption upon himself on the cross and died in our place to forgive us our constant sins, and so counted us always righteous in the eyes of our God. That's what our epistle lesson in 1 Peter 3 is about this Sunday morning. And that, too, is the incredible gift of the grace of our merciful God.
So we have a lot for which to thank God at the beginning of this Lenten season, don't we? -- for the mercies of order and life that surround us on every side and that are new every morning. But above all, for the gift of God's only Son, full of the grace of the Lord.
