“AIMING LOW”

 

 

A post-homiletical discourse delivered by the Rev. Dr. James R. Beebe

Rector, St. Patrick’s Church, Incline Village, Nevada, February 21, 2010

 

     It was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.  The man was 78 years old, frail-looking and anchored in his chair by tubes which snaked over his forearm and under his leg.  He sat, silently, looking out the window of that fifth floor hospital room.  I had seen this over and over, but something about this man was different. 

 

     His head moved slowly back and forth, as if denying some unseen accusation.  His mouth formed a wistful little half-smile, but it looked like he was ready to cry.  Back and forth went his head.  At length he acknowledged my presence, though without turning.  “Cancer,” he whispered.  “Two months.”    I remained quiet, hoping he was lost in his thoughts and would go on when he was ready.  He did:  “78 years – wasted….”  I think it was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

 

     “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  And he fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward he was hungry.”  We always arrive at this point hungry.  Always.  It’s usually a pinpoint of time in our lives, a crossroads in which one road is taken, the others, forsaken.  And it’s the “others, forsaken,” that I would like to talk about this morning.

 

     Jesus has just come from a high point, a “confirmation,” if you will, in which God had pronounced that this was His son, in whom He was well pleased.  But just what Sonship meant – that was a different story.  Hence, the desert.  Most expositions on the subject of Jesus’ three temptations do a pretty good job of explaining specifics.  But they miss the overall – and most subtle – temptation of all.

 

*   In the first one, the tempter comes to Jesus and says, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”  The temptation for Jesus is to spend his ministry providing for the material needs of the poor and hungry.  Jesus answers, “One does not live by bread alone.”

 

*   Then the devil takes Jesus on a little field trip.  Surveying all of the great kingdoms of the world, he tells Jesus that he can be the capo di tutti capi  (boss of all bosses) if he would only fall down and worship him.  The temptation for Jesus is to effect social change through political power.  And Jesus replies, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”

 

*   Then the devil changes tactics a bit.  He takes Jesus to the very top of the temple and dares him to throw himself from the pinnacle.  The temptation for Jesus is to take God up on His promise to protect him and perform fabulous signs and miracles (like surviving an 80-foot fall) so that people would believe and be saved.  Jesus answers him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

 

     But let’s take a closer look.  In the first instance, the option is to feed hungry people.  It’s laudable – a regular outreach ministry.  Nothing wrong with that.  Not by itself, anyway.  And in the second instance, political clout – the power to recreate institutions as forces for justice and peace.  Certainly nothing wrong with that, either.  Not by itself, anyway.  And finally, fame – access to lots and lots of people who are drawn to wonderful signs and miracles.  What a chance to spread the Good News!  Nothing wrong with that.  Not by itself, anyway.

 

     But there is more to it.  The Greek word for “temptation” is “test.”  Jesus’ temptations are a test of his character – whether he’s really up to the job or whether he’s willing to settle for something less.  Even if that “something else” is still pretty good.  At a faculty dinner at a well-known seminary, the president introduced his wife, Elizabeth, by saying,

 

“I want to present to you the most dangerous person in my life – my wife.  She is most dangerous because she is Christ’s nearest rival for first place in my life.”

 

Now, loving your wife and family is not a bad thing.  Certainly not.  But neither are they replacements for sonship.  They just aim too low.

 

     Even people with a moderately high aim can get derailed.  Take the Massachusetts Mutual American Family Value Study, for example.  The vast majority of respondents said that “having a happy family life” was the key to overall happiness.  Ranked last were “having nice things” and “being financially secure.”

 

     But then the study asked them to imagine that they were 38 years old and had been offered a job which brought a large increase in salary and prestige.  The only downside was that they would be required to travel more, work longer hours and spend less time with their families.  Two-thirds of the respondents said that they would either be “very likely” or “somewhat likely” to accept the position.  Not a single one of the 1,200 respondents said that it would be “very unlikely.”  Aiming low.

 

 

     But then it gets really tricky.  Because of the subtlety and deception of the human heart, it is also possible to aim too low by deliberately aiming too high.  Times columnist John Tierney has some observations about this in regard to singles ads:   “My theory…is that New Yorkers are singularly picky.  They are afflicted with what I call the Flaw-O-Matic, a little whirring device inside the brain that instantly spots a fatal flaw in any potential mate.  One evening, in a Japanese restaurant with my friend Eugene, we noticed heads turning nearby.  A svelte blonde woman was being escorted to her table.  Eugene took a quick sidelong glance at her and gave a bored shrug.  ‘Your basic blonde,’ he said.  I was still staring….

 

‘She’s not even a real blonde,’ he added.  ‘You can see her roots.’  Five minutes later, the woman was joined by a very handsome, instantly recognizable movie star and suddenly they knew who the woman was.  ‘Well,’ Eugene said, ‘when the Flaw-O-Matic starts rejecting Kim Bassinger, maybe it’s time to get it recalibrated.’”

 

    In their hearts, Tierney muses, New Yorkers know why they need the Flaw-O-Matic.  They like to say they came here looking for love and excitement, but what they’re really trying to say in those personal ads is, “Wanted:  to be alone.”  Aiming too low by aiming too high.

 

     Author Frederick Buechner tells of Graham Greene’s book, The Power and the Glory.  The hero – or perhaps we should say, antihero – is a seedy, alcoholic Catholic priest who, after months as a fugitive, is finally caught by the revolutionary Mexican government and condemned to be shot.  On the evening before his execution, he sits in his cell with a flask of brandy to keep his courage up.  “Tears poured down his face.  He was not at the moment afraid of damnation – even the fear of pain was in the background.  He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed.”

 

     Like this priest, we all tend to live lives which “could have been.”  If only we’d aimed higher.  If only we’d pursued that dream.  If only we’d endured the pain of saying, “No.”  If only we’d tried to work it out.  If only…if only. 

 

     “78 years – wasted.”  The old man’s head moves slowly back and forth and his mouth remains fixed in a wistful and humorless half-smile.  “Wasted.”  In a moment of stark clarity he has seen what could have been – what the Kingdom of God is like.  And how low his aim has been.  Right from the very beginning.  So now it’s isolation and withdrawal…or engagement and life.  He must choose.  Now.  Two months and counting….

 

It is his last temptation….