|
First
Reading
|
Psalm |
Epistle |
Gospel |
| Genesis 2: 15–17; 3:1–7 |
Psalm
32 |
Romans 5:12–19 |
Matthew 4:1–11 |
After Groundhog Day, I can get pretty anxious for spring, so I hope you will pardon me if I reminisce again about one of my favorite summer memories. One of the highlights of summer camp in the halcyon days of my youth was the annual trip up Mount Washington. Usually it was scheduled in the middle of August, the next to last week before closing, when the mornings began with a crisp dew of early fall followed by the still warm sun of summer. Those first time campers knew this mountain was different. (Those of you that have been to choir camp should know that this was a real climb, not an hour or two hike.) By this time all novice campers had conquered several lesser summits, going off in the morning singing in the camp truck, eating their box lunch at the summit, and being picked up and returned for a late afternoon swim before supper. Instead of a bare summit with only an occasional fire tower, Mount Washington had its own train and paved road going to the top, a restaurant, snack bar, rest rooms with running water, and an observatory. Nobody back home would ever hear of Mount Kersage or Chocorua, but Mount Washington was another matter. Moreover, the entire camp on this trip camped overnight down in Pinkham Notch, site of the old Army base camp where signals in Morse code would by flashed at night to those testing winter equipment on the summit.
The morning finally arrived, and with cameras, canteens, and the standard box lunch, off we started. There are many trails up the mountain, with varying degrees of difficulty, and campers were assigned accordingly. The easiest one, Tuckerman Ravine trail began as a jeep road, servicing a ski lodge halfway up. I liked it the least, for it was simply boring, although more than a sufficient challenge for young legs. Other trails were more challenging and scenic. I preferred Lion Head, one with giant steps and ledges, sort of an express elevator to the top, with good views most of the way. Bad for old knees, but that wasn’t a problem back then. But whatever trail was chosen, one soon came to a large yellow sign. In large black letters it announced: Warning: the weather ahead is some of the worst in the world. If the weather looks threatening, turn back immediately.
Of course, it was summer and we had checked the weather forecast before we planned the trip; we never had to turn back. I don't think we thought any more about the dire warning on the signs, until we approached the headwall, an area above the tree line that all trails had to traverse. It was as if someone had dumped a box of huge boulders like styrofoam peanuts on a rising plain. From there the clouds began to blow through you like moist fingers in your hair and the wind seemed to say, remember you are not on home soil anymore, this place is not under your domain. Be careful and watch your step! It was here that some climbers needed to be encouraged. Legs began to ache. It helped, to catch a whiff of the coal smoke of the cog wheel railroad engine and when the clouds broke, to look down at the notch far below. Finally, the summit came into sight. We first passed the observatory and a few supply barns and the warning of the yellow signs was reiterated again. Over the roofs of every one of the structures were heavy iron chains, anchored by rings the circumference of basketballs into the granite. The pictures in the observatory of the snow and ice in winter confirmed why. As the wind now blew clouds below us, we realized that it could be a very dangerous world up here. A sign announced that the highest wind velocity in the world had been recorded where we were standing. .
We watched the people come into the summit house, with a justified measure of superiority over those who took the cog wheel railroad or, worse still, rode up in their car. The hot chocolate was always burning hot and overpriced, and I never would purchase a hot dog. I tried to steer my charges to write some postcards rather than buying a cedar plaque, a ubiquitous stable of every tourist-ware shop of that era. None of us particularly wanted to leave, but as it came time, it did seem to get colder and the wind picked up and clouds thickened.
Down at our base camp, we shared the stories of what we encountered on the trail, and as we ate the customary dinner of beef stew and butter bread, we looked west and saw an unobstructed summit, with the backdrop of the twilight sky. It was a beautiful sight. Yet, ever so often, in late fall or early winter, there is an article about a group of climbers that over-extended themselves, got trapped on Washington's slopes and experienced tragedy. I think again, of those large yellow signs posted on every trail, warning of danger and urging turn back, turn back.
That's what today's lessons are all about. Humanity has its limits and within limits, growth, choice, and freedom flourish. The story of Jesus' temptation is compared with an ancient creation saga where the Hebrew word for red earth and the word for life become ever so slightly changed into the words Adam and Eve. Yes, Adam and Eve are our ancestors in the sense that all of humanity has come from the combination of earth and life.
Humanity has a universal problem with wanting to be omniscient, to be like God, to be emperor of the entire universe. That is what the phrase the knowledge of good and evil means. It is not referring to the ability to make moral choices between right and wrong, but the pride in believing that it is possible for certain, to always know what is truth and always know what is falsehood. The Bible makes the astute observation that the desire for total control, for absolute ability to be right, to predict all future consequences, and to exercise power without recognizing any limits, is a dangerous delusion and ultimately corrupts us.
The Gospel for today leaves us with a warning as clear as in Genesis or on the slopes of Mount Washington. The tempter says to Jesus, "You are the Son of God, you can do whatever you want." Instead Jesus left us with an example of one who did not claim, who did not attempt to grasp, the power humanity ascribes to God. Jesus replies, "No thank you." Jesus says to the devil, “No, there are limits, there are boundaries in this world, and I will acknowledge them.” We don't know the actual mountain the tempter led Jesus up. I wonder though, if Jesus, on his way to the top, did not see a unique pile of rocks serving as a carne of warning posted by some ancient hiker, a descent of Sarah and Abraham.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
