“Adam and Christ: A Sermon of the 1st Sunday in Lent”

St. Peters Church, Morristown, NJ

Texts: Gen 2: 15-17, 3:1-7; MT 4:1-11

The Rev. James W. Jones

2/10/08

This is the story of two men. Two men who faced the same temptation.

One man, the story goes, lived in paradise. Adam. As I suspect we all know, “Adam” is not a proper name in the Book of Genesis. Adam is not an individual person. “ha’dam” is simply the Hebrew word for humanity. This is not the story of an individual man, it is the story of humanity, of all of us, of you and of me. And, like all of us, humanity, “‘ha’dam,” faced a particular temptation. No other creature, no other animal faced this temptation. The temptation to be like God. To reach out and grab and snatch and steal the divine role, just like stealing a piece of fruit from a tree.

Where do we look for Adam, where do we look for one tempted to be like God? Not back in some prehistorical time. There we will find only the traces of simple, ancestral primates. Not in some text of ancient near eastern mythology. Not in some pseudo-scientific theory of special human origins. No. The place to look for Adam, for one tempted to be like God, is in the mirror. The place to find Adam, to find one tempted to be like God, is inside you and inside me, at the core of who I am and who you are. There we are sure to find one grabbing at the divine role, trying to make him self or her self God.

And then there was Jesus in the wilderness. No lush paradise here. Just desert; rocks and sand and a dry dusty wind as far as the eye could see.

            Command these stones to become loaves of bread.

            Throw yourself off a tower and command God to save you.

            Sell your soul and gain all the kingdoms of the world.

            Use your power to feed yourself alone.

            Make a stupid decision and expect God or someone else to rescue you.

            Sacrifice everything you have to gain wealth and power and establish an empire.

Sound familiar. It should. The devil’s temptations describe the society we live in: look out for number one and forget about everyone else, make stupid choices and expect others to pick up the pierces, sacrifice everything to build an empire. Eat of the tree of selfishness, greed, violence, and self-aggrandizement and become like God and then blame your partner when it doesn’t work out. It was the woman, it was the snake, it wasn’t me. It’s not my fault. I had the best advice. I was just following orders. I have the Word of God on my side.

And what does Jesus do in response to these temptations? He didn’t look out for number one. He didn’t make an impulsive decision. He didn’t sacrifice his soul for wealth and power and the hegemony of empire. Rather, and here I quote from Paul’s letter to the Philippians words that scholars tell us are from one of the earliest Christian hymns which Paul is citing in his text; it goes like this,

“Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in human form. And being found in human form, he humbled himself, and was humble even to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

The word I have translated here as “humble” which can also mean acceptance and obedience in Greek, also occurs in a similar context in the Letter to the Hebrews. The author of Hebrews may be quoting the same early Christian hymn when he writes that “though he was a son, Jesus learned humility through what he suffered.”    

In other words, Jesus did the opposite of Adam. That was the devil’s temptation to Jesus in the wilderness: to be like Adam, to be like the rest of humanity. Adam regarded equality with God as something to be grasped. Jesus relinquished any claim on divine power. Adam sought to be the master and the ruler—not the keeper and the guardian—of creation. Jesus humbled himself and became a servant. Adam refused to accept who he was—a limited, finite human being and instead lusted after being the creator, not the creature. Jesus, through whom and for whom all things were created, humbly accepted finding himself in human form.

Two men. Two Adams. Two visions of humanity. One greedy and grasping and lusting, the other humble and serving and accepting. Who has done the most mischief to his fellow human beings? Who has done the most mischief to the creation God put into his care? Who has left the most damage for his children and grandchildren to repair? The greedy, grasping, avaricious Adam? Or the humble servant, the Adam who accepted his condition?  You decide.

            “Let this mind be in you” is how Paul introduces this hymn.  Let this mind be in you, the mind of one who “Though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in human form. And being found in human form, he humbled himself, and was humble even to the point of death—even death on a cross.” Let this mind be in you, the mind of one who refused to use his powers to aggrandize himself and turn rock into bread, the one who refused to sell his soul, the one who renounced the lure of wealth and empire, the one who emptied himself and accepted being in human form, accepted being in the form of a servant.

Let this mind be in you as you consider whom you will vote for this fall. Let this mind be in you as you decide about how you will conduct your business or your profession. Let this mind be in you as you move through your life as a spouse or parent or sibling. Let this mind be in you as you engage in the visioning process and think about the future of this parish. I don’t think it’s the job of the preacher to tell you how to vote, how to conduct your profession or your business, what your vision for the future of this parish should be. But it is the job of the preacher to articulate something taken from the gospel to draw on as you make those decisions. So often when the church has approached such political, professional, and even ecclesiastical issues it has done so in a legalistic and moralistic way—trying to impose some rules, legislate some behaviors, insist on some courses of action or forbid others. That has not worked well.

I would suggest another way. When confronting political decisions, business and professional choices, discussions about the future of St. Peters, I would suggest the approach is the one Paul articulates: have the mind of Christ, the mind of one who humbled himself,  the mind of one who took on the role of the servant, the mind of one who refused the devil’s call to use his power to aggrandize himself, who refused to establish the petty kingdom of ego, the one who refused to sell his soul, the one who refused to follow in the path of the first Adam and lust after making himself God.

During this season of Lent we can give up some things that we don’t really need anyway—an extra drink before dinner, a rich desert, a fancy appetizer, an extra trip to the mall. Or we can try to think with the mind of Christ, we can try to see with the eyes of humility. Ask yourselves: how would the choices in the upcoming election look if I saw them with the eyes of a humble servant? How would my business, my profession look if I approached it with the mind of humble servanthood? How would the process of visioning, discussing, deciding about the future of St. Peter’s be if I entered that process from a place of humility? Could I really listen humbly to the positions of those whom I oppose? Could we in this parish like the Lord we follow, in the words of the Letter to the Hebrews, learn humility from what we in the parish have suffered in the last decade? And we have suffered, individually and as a parish, in the last decade. Has that suffering hardened us? Hardened our positions? Hardened our capacity for discussion and compromise? Or can we learn humility from what we have suffered?

I do not think a nation or a business or a profession can be a church. So it is not really legitimate to ask those questions of the nation, of a business, of a profession. I may well be wrong about this but I do not think a nation, a business, a profession can ever put on the mind of Christ, at least not in the same way that an individual or a church must. But still the gospel articulates an outlook that should inform us in all aspects of our life. To that extent we can at least ask of our nation, our businesses, our professions the same question. The nation has suffered a great deal recently. Have we as a nation learned humility from what we have suffered? Many have found the economic security they had hoped for from their businesses, professions, investments slipping away. Again, can we learn humility from what we have suffered?

When we recognize ourselves in the image of the first Adam, grasping after position and power, we have this season of Lent, this season of self-examination. We can use this season of Lent to face honestly the old Adam that still lives within us. We can use this season to recognize the voice of the devil when it calls to us in the wilderness — use your power for selfish ends, throw yourself down from the tower, grab for the kingdoms of the world.

As we approach decisions about our national future, our economic future, the future of this parish, we will continue in the trajectory of the old Adam? Will we continue to grasp to make ourselves into gods? Will we continue to use our powers only for selfish ends? Will we continue to try to aggrandize ourselves at others expense and blame others for our mistakes?  We will continue to take up the devil’s offer? If we do, the bread we make will turn back to stone in our mouths. When we will throw ourselves off a tower and try to fly high, we will crash broken and shattered on the ground. We will find the riches we have gained and the kingdoms have built have become void and worthless. We will be in the desert but the angels will not come and care for us.

Or will we use this season of Lent to practice humility, to practice learning acceptance from what we have suffered? If we do, we may hear the words of the prophet Isaiah spoken to another people exiled in an unknown and unfamiliar wilderness:

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength

            They shall mount up with wings as eagles

            They shall run and not be weary

            They shall walk and not faint.  

Amen.

To print out the text of a Sermon

please set your printer to print the document

in a LANDSCAPE format.