"The Heart of the Matter"
A Sermon Preached by The
Rev. Thomas C. Leinbach
February 10, 2008 - Harwich, Massachusetts

Preaching Text: "But the serpent said to the woman, 'You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'" (Genesis 3:4-5)

This past Thursday, during our Christian Education meeting, one of the Board members stated the obvious: that you can learn a lot by listening to young people.

As a case in point, every time I teach a confirmation class, I begin by asking each student to list on a piece of paper all the things that trouble them about the world we live in.

Without fail, their answers are astute, and to the point. War, hatred, poverty, injustice, discrimination and the lack of common human decency always top the list. Young people are under no illusions. They know that beneath all the glitter of our world, something is amiss, and that life just shouldn't be this way.

After reading the lists back to them, we always go to today's readings from Genesis 2 and 3. There we encounter our archetypical ancestors, Adam and Eve, as they navigate their way through the Garden of Eden.

As we know, the Garden is a place of perfection, a place where everything has been deemed good, where everything works in perfect harmony. There is no war, hatred, poverty, injustice, discrimination or human indecency. In fact, such things are so unknown that neither Adam nor Eve has even an inkling of them. Theirs is a world of complete and total innocence. Evil, suffering and pain simply do not exist. Not even a little bit.

Theologically, the Garden of Eden signifies the imago Dei, or "image of God" that exists within the human soul. The Garden, in effect, is a spatial metaphor which attempts to describe the indescribable, what being made in God's image looks and feels like. The first chapter of Genesis states it plainly: we are made in

God's image - morally, spiritually, intellectually. And this mirroring of God's very divinity is what separates us from the rest of creation.

Deep down, the confirmation students - and we - instinctively know our broken world does not reflect life as it ought to be, even as God's image within us rejects any easy accommodation to this world's evil and sin.

So how then did we get to here? If the world was created good by a generous and benevolent Creator, why is there any darkness or suffering? If our primordial sensibilities have known perfect innocence, why is there such wrong in our world?

The biblical answer points to the Fall, which takes place in Genesis 3. The Serpent, bent on evil, craftily influences the two innocents to ignore God's only mandate: that they not eat from the "tree of the knowledge of good and evil," the only taboo in the Garden of Eden.

The Serpent, you see, has got their number. He knows what makes them tick. With the image of God implanted in their souls, he knows how much they aspire to more, to more than being mere creatures.

Why be a creature at all? Why not go for the whole enchilada? Why not be God? Who needs to take orders from someone else? By eating the forbidden fruit, the Serpent assures, their eyes will be opened, and they will be just like God, knowing good and evil.

No more taking a back seat to God. No more having to be dependent on anyone else. No more being kept in the dark regarding the intricacies of good and evil. Now, finally, Adam and Eve have the chance to be masters of their own destiny.

There is perhaps no greater temptation for human beings than to call the shots, with the self at the center. No temptation is as great for the creature than to step beyond the limitations imposed by its Creator. But in so doing, they fall from grace and break decisively with God, forcing any number of unintended consequences. At first, their newfound independence seems a great thing, a heady, exhilarating thing. Finally, that is, to be in full and complete charge of one's life!

It's like a man who has lived all his life in a warm, sunny clime. Every day he basks in the sun's warmth and revels in its bright light. But one day he sets out from that place to explore the world beyond, in search of better things. And as he walks, he moves steadily further from his home and its warming sun. At first, he feels invigorated, liberated, free. He is in charge, in complete control, the steady warmth and light of the sun his constant companion.

Yet in time, as his walk takes him further and further away, away from the source of warmth and light, he realizes suddenly that his world has grown conspicuously colder and darker, until he comes to the unfortunate conclusion, like the Prodigal Son, that his self-guided tour has taken him too far from home, too far from the eternal sunshine he assumed would be his always.

When we reject God, it is as if we choose to walk away from the source of all that is beautiful and joyous. Of course, at first, we don't much notice, because we haven't traveled, as yet, all that far. But in time, the farther and more distant we get from God, the more we find ourselves missing God's generous blessings.

In the Jim Carrey movie of a few years ago, Bruce Almighty, we see with comedic effect what happens when a man is given the opportunity to actually become God. The title character, Bruce, a shallow television reporter angry over losing out to a hated rival on a promotion to anchorman, complains bitterly to God about just how badly God is mismanaging the world.

So in a surprising turnaround, Bruce actually is given God's job! At first, Bruce revels in his newfound power and might. He uses it repeatedly to bend life to his personal whims. Fun and frivolity abound.

But in time things turn decidedly darker, as he sees the consequences of his ill-informed and self-centered decisions. In due time, he has made a complete mess of not just his life but the lives of countless others, many of whom inundate him with heartfelt prayer requests. The happy ending occurs when he regains his rightful place as one of God's creatures, gratefully absent the responsibilities of actually having to be God.

In today's gospel reading, Jesus is tempted in the desert. Knowing human nature well, the Devil offers him the same bait the Serpent previously has used successfully on Adam and Eve. He wants Jesus to put his own needs front and center, and offers three of the most powerful of human desires, physical comfort, spiritual power and political conquest. Unlike Adam and Eve, however, Jesus rejects these for what they are, unholy, idolatrous substitutes for God.

With this rejection, Jesus reveals the solution to all human problems: radical and complete trust in God alone. It is this that is at the heart of things. For unlike Adam and Eve, Jesus declines the all-too human desire to place himself first, choosing instead to trust only God, who alone knows what is best for him - and us. His choice offers us the model for how we might return to the source of all life and goodness, back to the God from whom we have separated ourselves.

When Adam and Eve choose to go their own way, they end up distancing themselves from their Maker, and lose touch with what God wishes for their lives. Over time, the image of God implanted within becomes tarnished and diminished, morally, spiritual and intellectually.

Our tradition's spiritual forebear, the Protestant Reformer John Calvin, in fact, argued that because of the Fall, God's image has been lost to us completely. Only Christ, he contended, can restore the image of God within.

What this means, in practical terms, is that without Christ we remain out of touch with God and, thus, are prone to make a mess of things, morally, spiritually and intellectually. Left to our own devises, we choose wrongly, even when trying to do our best! Without God's insight and clarity we fumble and stumble in the dark, and find ourselves, like Carrey's character, Bruce, lost and uneasy.

Jesus, on the other hand, conquers the human temptation to act as if we were God. His actions show us how to choose God's will over the false promises of the self. In Jesus we learn that trusting God, even when we are unsure or uncertain - maybe even especially when we are unsure or uncertain - is the only means of restoring our lost sight, of regaining our moral, spiritual and intellectual bearings. Trusting in God is to trust in the only One who can take us beyond ourselves and into the light of God's grace.

The lost man in my parable who travels far from home, far from the sun's warmth and light, has the choice of turning around, which is what "repentance" actually means. Though the landscape at first remains the same cold, dark, far landscape to which his travels had taken him, with each successive step he moves closer and closer to his once and future home, back to that place where his soul once had known warmth and solace, until one day he arrives in joyful reunion with those he had left behind.

In Lent, we, too, are invited to repent, to turn around, to return to the source of all joy and goodness. In following Jesus and his example, by trusting in God and in God alone, the image of God within grows until fully restored. This is precisely why God sent him to us and why we are here today.

Amen.