Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Psalm 32; Matthew 4:1-11; Romans 5:12-19
I wonder, deep in our hearts, do we actually want to travel with Jesus through Lent, making choices that don't let us rely on our possessions, status or power? It's the sort of thing that gets said from pulpits all over the world, and especially on this first Sunday in Lent, but is it at all realistic, once we get out of this sacred space and back into the rest of our lives? Surely, some of the more cynical among you may be wondering at the back of your minds, surely people just aren't like that: choosing to give up their own security and advantage in order to follow God. After all, look at our Hebrew Bible reading, how Eve deliberately chose to eat the only fruit that was forbidden to her! OK, we don't believe it was literally like that, but isn't Richard Dawkins right? Aren't human beings programmed to make selfish choices, to look after themselves and their own? Isn't that the meaning of original sin?
It's interesting that while Jews and Christians and Muslims all have this story in their scriptures, Jews see the ‘sin' of Adam and Eve as a necessary step in the development of humanity, and Muslims understand it as individual disobedience to God, which could be forgiven by God without affecting their children; yet traditionally Christians have seen this prototype disobedience, technically called ‘the fall', as something that affects all subsequent generations, an imperfection which could only be repaired by Jesus' perfect humanity and his willing self-sacrifice for our sake. And much of that argument rests on our New Testament reading this morning from Paul's letter to the Romans.
Sin came into the world through one man: Adam - so argues Paul - and that original sin brought death for us all. But now one man - Jesus Christ - has freed us from our guilt, has brought us God's forgiveness and the chance of reconciliation with God and with one another. As in Adam all died, so in Christ will all be made alive - and here I bet some of you are humming along to Handel's Messiah. It's a very neat argument; but it leaves out some of the story. In Genesis, Eve chooses to eat the apple and persuades Adam to do so. When we get to Romans, Eve's initiative, Eve's existence, has been neatly edited out.
But it's not just that poor Eve was suppressed by Paul - who, to do him justice, elsewhere in his letters does recognise and value the leadership of women in the church. There's a double whammy: for hundreds of years after Genesis and Romans, Christian women were also told by male church authorities that, as daughters of Eve, they were evil, filthy, the devil's gateway: it's the woman's fault. And it's not only women: if you are black, or gay, or poor, or have physical or mental disabilities, it has sometimes been and may still be hard to find a welcome from those who follow Jesus.
How can this be, since - as Paul rightly said - Jesus' grace is for all people? Why are we so blinkered by difference?
However we see the fruit incident in Eden, when we try to understand the sinful reactions of church authorities past and present, I suspect we may be back to the temptations facing both Jesus and us: to choose bread, material resources; to choose miracle-working, mass popularity; to choose universal rule, power over others; rather than relying on God. We who follow Jesus are sometimes afraid; afraid that there is not enough bread to go around; not enough popularity for everyone to feel beloved; not enough power for all to share. And if that is so, we are tempted, with the best of intentions, to keep what there is to those whom we can trust: ourselves and those like us: our family, our clan, our profession, our social grouping. We do not know others so personally: they may not be so worthy of survival, so able to do the work that needs to be done, so aware of all the issues involved as we are. So it's best to hold onto what we have, and to share it first with those in whom we know we can have confidence. The rich young man in Mark's Gospel, whose story you'll find in the reference on your ticket, the one who wanted to follow Jesus, would surely have appreciated our point of view - what, sell all he had and give the proceeds to the poor? Irresponsible madness! Yet for Jesus, this man's personal righteousness, which wasn't in question, was not enough. He had to be challenged to wean himself off his ultimate dependence on things - however good in themselves - that mattered less than God. And so do we.
All right, so what does that mean in practice? I'm not going to consider this morning how as individuals we may be challenged to rely less on the possessions, the status or the power which we enjoy - that's something you'll know much better than I, and something we would all do well to consider over the course of the next five weeks. No, this morning I'm interested in thinking about how as a church we can follow Jesus and make his choices ours.
Firstly, how do we deal with the temptation to make stones into bread, to rely on our material possessions? Church finances can be a contentious subject - after all, this is our money we have given to the church, so we want to be really sure it's being spent properly! And our first responsibility, of course, is to our members: to make sure the building is well maintained, the services go on, and our social activities are on a sound financial footing; for like any other voluntary organisation, that's how we're going to survive, right?
Wrong! Because we are a church, and not any other voluntary organisation, our survival does not depend on our buildings, beautiful and well kept though they are, or on our bank balances. Our survival as a church depends on God, and how seriously we take God's words of reconciliation and forgiveness, mercy and justice to us and to all. So when we consider how to use our financial resources - for example, we are currently exploring the possibility of building a parking bay for dropping off people at the front of church, and better access at the front for people who find steps hard - we need to understand how our plan is going to forward the church's mission: in that instance, to make more people welcome in our sanctuary and help them to worship with us. Whenever we look to use our resources prudently and well, which is important, the mission of our church - or rather, God's mission, entrusted to us in this place - must be the guiding principle in whatever we decide to do.
Secondly, how do we in St Andrew's deal with the temptation to do something flashy and miraculous to bring the crowds flocking in? Somehow that doesn't seem too much of a temptation to me in this congregation - we're temperamentally unflashy! Yet on a Sunday morning, as well as at other times of the week when we gather to be church together, there are so many different calls on people's time already. I sometimes wonder, and maybe you do too: what is it that makes people flock to DIY stores, car-boot sales, football matches - anywhere but church? And what could we provide in church that attracted people back to us?
If you do have that sort of question - and particularly if you have any answers - I'd like to talk about it. For the last thing we want to do is to put barriers in the way of people coming here and finding what they need. Yet research has shown that, though people may be enthused by big Christian rallies and major events, what draws people to a church and keeps them coming back is the friendships they make there: long-term, quiet, steadfast friendships. And as long as those of us who have enjoyed such friendships with others in this congregation for years can still look up from their conversations to welcome someone new, that is what will make our church grow.
Finally, what about the devil's promise to give power and authority to those who are prepared to forget about putting God first? It's a lie, of course, but it can be a convincing lie. And it could be horribly easy to get sidetracked from our original purpose: to worship God, as it says in the old catechism, and to enjoy God forever. If, for example, St Andrew's were to turn into a concert venue noted in Sheffield for its acoustics, or a model community centre full of life where many groups could pursue their aims, but we the church had turned into a landlord, with no connections between the congregation and those who use our building beyond a rental fee, we would have gone astray.
But enough of the temptations we face as a church this Lent! For as we travel with Jesus we are promised forgiveness whenever we go wrong, together or individually; as well as guidance to do what God requires of us. Our psalm this morning puts it best: God is our guide who watches all our way, gently he teaches us our path to find. Be not self-willed, like beasts that go astray, God will direct our feet and form our mind. Mercy embraces us on every side, with God our joy, our Saviour, strength and guide.