“Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” Genesis 2:1
Thursday was a windy day, or what Winnie the Pooh would call a Blustery Day. It reminded me of the utter joy my sons experienced when they were little guys on Saturday morning. They’d get up early, go into the kitchen pour some cheerios into a bowl and the settle down in front of the TV to watch Winne the Pooh. Joining the adventures of Pooh, Piglet, Rabbit, Eeyore and Christopher Robin in the Hundred Acre Woods was the highlight of their week, a little piece of paradise. And then one Saturday morning, instead of Pooh on channel 6, it was a different cartoon. Jonathan tried all the channels and then yelled, “Mom, Dad, come quick, Pooh’s not on!” A crisis. He wrote a letter to the TV station pleading for a return of Pooh. We sent it off and waited for a response. The next Saturday, still no Pooh, by the Saturday after that he and Todd knew paradise was lost.
It doesn’t take much, does it, to lose paradise? A man shaped from the dust. Life breathed into him. A beautiful garden. Pleasing trees providing good food, including the tree of life. Flowing rivers. Satisfying work. Permission to enjoy the garden, but also a prohibition not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, a boundary to be respected. A partner to share the garden. God delights in giving paradise. But then it is lost.
All it took was a question. Albeit, a sly one from the serpent– “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” Notice what’s happening here. The serpent ups the ante—raising the stakes from not eating from one tree to all the trees. Then the woman responds, upping the ante too – from not eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that’s in the center of the garden – to not even touching it. Hearing that, the serpent knows she’s in the game, ready to gamble and about to lose it all. God’s rule no longer creates a safe place, but becomes a barrier to circumvent, to get around. And the fruit of the tree looks so good, it has to be delicious. God won’t know if just two are picked, so she takes one for herself and another for her husband. They eat and with the knowledge of good and evil, they know they are naked. What was a story of trust and obedience becomes an account of crime and punishment.[i]
The man and woman might have stayed in the garden, in paradise, as immortal partners with God. But instead of trusting this relationship, they want to be in charge of the relationship. They want the knowledge God had reserved for God alone. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” is the sentence God pronounced on them that day, and which we, their sons and daughters have inherited.
I’ve always remembered what my Preaching Professor, Morrie Niedenthal said about the story, that the original sin was Adam and Eve seeking to be more than they were – not beloved humans created by God, but God. They thought they knew better than God. So, instead of obeying God they take advice from a snake, becoming far less than they were. Then when caught, they play the blame game – Adam blaming Eve, Eve blaming the snake. God dealt with those consequences. Think about you and me. God creates us, calls us very good, mov tov, in the Hebrew. It’s when we try to be more than we are, to be God, or become less than we are, that we get in trouble.
In today’s Gospel, the garden becomes wilderness. The snake’s upgraded to a scripture-quoting devil. And after 40 days and 40 nights of fasting, Jesus faces three tantalizing temptations masquerading as good intentions. Just like Adam and Eve, what’s at stake is Jesus’ relationship with God.
“If you” the devil begins. That tiny word, “if” introduces fear where faith once stood firm, doubt where confidence reigned, mistrust where trust existed. Jesus’ very identity given by God at his Baptism in the River Jordan – that he is God’s beloved Son – is called into question by that little word, “if.”
Perhaps you heard it on the playground, “if” you play with him or with her, you can’t be my friend. “If” you work over-time, give your life to the company, stay connected even on vacation, then maybe you’ll make vice-president. “If” you do it my way, then I’ll love you. “If” is a two letter word full of manipulation and control.
“If you are the Son of God” the tempter challenges Jesus, “turn these stones into bread. Not only will you be satisfied, no one will ever go hungry again. Think about it, Jesus — no more food pantries, meals at St. Peter’s, Phantom Food Packs or famines. If stones become bread, the children will always have full bellies.” “One does not live by bread alone,” Jesus replies, quoting God’s law. The temper tries again, “If you are the Son of God do some supernatural acrobatics proving it.” “Do not test God,” Jesus responds. And then a third time, “If you are the Son of God, worship me and I will give you all the kingdoms of the world.” Jesus responds, “Away with you, Satan, for it is written, worship the Lord your God and serve only him.”
“If you are a child of God,” the tempter teases us. The ashes that marked us with the cross last Wednesday, remind us that Jesus becomes dust to be with us, entering fully into the wilderness of life. He, too, weeps. He, too, faces temptation, experience brokenness, knows the pain of betrayal. And yet the night of that betrayal, Jesus took bread, broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “This is my body given for you.” And then the cup, “This is my blood shed for you.” For you. For me. For Evan, Owen and Benjamin, for Avary, Nolan and Lucas, for Nicholas and Nicholas. For the forgiveness of your sin. For the restoration of your being. I am with you always. You are my beloved children.” And in our Lord’s life-giving love, paradise that was so easily lost, is restored, again and again and again. Amen.
[i] Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982, 48.