Readings (Year A):
Genesis 2:7 – 9; 3:1 – 7
Psalm 51:3 – 4, 5 – 6, 12 – 13, 17
Romans 5:12 – 19 or 5:12, 17 – 19
Matthew 4:1 – 11
Reflection: Make God’s story our story
Every year, on the first Sunday of Lent, we hear a version of Jesus’s post-baptism sojourn in the desert. The gospels of Matthew and Luke tell us that Jesus was “led by the Spirit into the desert,” while Mark’s account is more direct. Instead of being gently “led,” we read that ‘At once the Spirit drove him out into the desert.” I have always appreciated the Marcan account for it retains a sense of discomfort and uncertainty. The Spirit is not merely accompanying or guiding Jesus into a place where he would like to be—like a divine GPS system leading him to his destination—but instead the Spirit is forcing, prodding, driving Jesus into a discomfiting land where he would rather not be.
Given what Jesus is about to face over the course of his forty-day journey, Mark’s account seems to make more sense. And as we begin our own Lenten journeys of reflection, prayer, and discernment, where we too may confront our own temptations, it’s helpful to know that Jesus understands something of our experience.
At first glance, today’s readings appear to center on the theme of temptation. The reading from Genesis recounts the famous scene of the first humans in the garden, tempted by the serpent to eat the forbidden fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The gospel tells of Jesus facing three prompts from the devil. And while temptation is a key theme across these scripture passages, it’s worth revisiting the traditional assumptions about the precise temptations.
When it comes to the first humans in Genesis, the general view is that Eve and Adam are tempted by the sin of pride. Their actions lead to disobedience; they reject God’s authority and instruction to do what they want. While the sin may indeed be a form of insolence, I wonder if the original temptation has less to do with human pride and more to do with human insecurity.
The serpent’s argument centers on the alleged reason God has forbidden the humans from touching, let alone eating, fruit from this tree. The serpent claims that to eat this fruit would result in them becoming more like God. The presupposition is that the humans are not sufficient as they are: they could be better, greater, more lovable and respectable. I like to think of this exchange as the first commercial advertisement in human history: the serpent is preying on some internal lingering doubt that Eve and Adam have about their own goodness, knowledge, and worth. Just eat this fruit, just buy this car, just take this vacation, just use this pill, just wear these clothes (or fig leaves) and you will be better, smarter, and beloved.
Perhaps the temptation is to believe the lie that we are not good enough as God created us and loved into existence. In an age of nonstop advertising, influencing, and peer pressure, especially across social-media platforms, the temptation the first humans face from the serpent is repeated today in millions of small and large ways—each sponsored ad, each influencer’s recommendation, each streaming commercial or product placement is a hidden temptation to doubt ourselves and our inherent goodness and lovability.
As Lent begins, perhaps we might take time to examine our hearts and minds to face this ancient-and-modern temptation, reject its premise, and embrace the divine truth that God created us out of love for love.
This brings us to the gospel, where Jesus is confronted in the desert by the devil’s queries, which seem to test his resolve in the face of temptations related to security (make your own food and you’ll never be dependent), power (demonstrate your divine might and reject vulnerability), and greed (you can have it all). While these are perfectly legitimate readings of the threefold temptation, I wonder if we move too quick to this interpretation and lose sight of an important lesson here.
In response to these temptations, which play on fundamental human insecurities and aspirations, Jesus does not offer creative or original retorts. Instead, at each turn he points to scripture, which is a source of divine wisdom. It is not the case that the Bible is an answer book for all our challenges and struggles, but it is the repository of God’s self-disclosure and guidance. When we find ourselves in Jesus’s shoes (or sandals), facing some temptation to sin, we are invited to return to the Bible and become people of scripture. As the medieval theologians were fond of saying, the more we can make God’s story our story and internalize the wisdom revealed, the more prepared we will be to respond to adversity in our lives. So, rather than look for some quick fix or the latest fad to respond to our temptations, we might follow Jesus’s example and return to what is written.
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