Living in the Real World

Texts: Genesis 9:8-17; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15

I have spoken a lot about baptism in recent times, and today the readings raise another question: into what does baptism lead us?  That is particularly the issue that is addressed in our gospel passage this morning.  As soon as we think about the temptation of Christ we recall the story.  We know there were three specific temptations; we might be a bit hazy about the order – even the gospel accounts are not consistent in that respect – but we probably can recall what they are.  There's one about turning the stones into bread; another about bungee-jumping off a high place without a rope; and a third about assuming all political power over the world.

Except that St Mark either does not know there were three specific temptations, or has forgotten.  He gives us a typically terse but very interesting alternative account.  First of all, he links it even more closely than the others with the Jesus' baptism; and the linking agent, so to speak, is the Holy Spirit.  Jesus comes up out of the waters of baptism, he hears the voice from heaven proclaiming him as the Beloved Son of God, and he sees the Spirit descend on him like a dove.  And immediately, says St Mark, the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness where he was tempted for 40 days.

So now we can begin our answer to the question, into what does baptism leads us?  We might be tempted sometimes to think that the answer is into a sort of improved version of Disneyland or Camelot, where all our problems have magically disappeared and everyone lives happily ever after.  That is the slap-happy gospel we sometimes hear preached by American televangelists.  Come to Jesus and all will be immediately put right in our lives.

The picture painted by St Mark is very different.  He says some to Jesus, be baptised, and enter with him into the real world, and he uses very powerful symbols to tell us the nature of the real world.  He says that in the wilderness Jesus was "with the wild animals".  Think about that expression for a moment and notice the feelings it engenders in you.  Do you feel like exclaiming, "Oh, how lovely!"  Perhaps you see a safari park, with David Attenborough pointing out how close the pride of lions is in that reassuring half-whisper he uses.

Or are you less of a romantic and more of a realist: do you get an immediate sensation of danger when you reflect on St Mark's expression?  Jesus was "with the wild animals".  I recently read a commentary on this gospel by a Jungian scholar who assured his readers that St Mark is using a classic symbol here; he said wild animals represent "of course" Jesus' emotions, his feelings as the full horror of his unique calling began to dawn on him in the wilderness.  Well, in your dreams, I thought as I read that account.

It may well be that the wild animals are intended to carry a symbolic meaning as well as the obvious one; but if that is so, I think it is far more likely that they represent the danger of chaos, of untamed nature, we might say.  If we think about the human predicament in general there are two major sources of threat to our existence.  One is natural disasters – earthquakes, storms, floods, etc.  The sheer raw power of these events is completely overwhelming – we are powerless to resist.  However much we might try to tell ourselves that we live in a safe environment, there can never be any guarantees.  Volcanoes erupt, the earth quakes and opens up, tsunamis cover whole islands, and fire razes whole communities.  I often think that those who try to make theological sense out of human evil ought to try doing the same with natural phenomena.  If God is the Creator of all things and God is all-loving and powerful, how is it that Creation itself is often so horribly destructive?  Answers on a postcard, please!

So Jesus is led into the wilderness representing the real world as it is estranged from God; and there he is in the company of "wild animals" representing all the threats of the natural world.  Secondly, says St Mark, Jesus is in the presence of Satan, the embodiment of evil.  Here is the twin threat to human existence; here we have the evil that works in and through us so that we might properly call it "human evil".  Think for a moment what the world would be like if there was no natural threat to our existence, and no human evil in the world.  We would be at peace – there would be no more fear, no more pain or suffering or death, exactly as the prophets have promised.  But that's not the world in which we live, and it is not the world into which we are lead by baptism.

Fortunately, St Mark assures us that Jesus is not only in the presence of untamed nature and incarnate evil.  He is also in the presence of angels who minister to him.  They represent, surely, the presence of God.  And there we have the complete picture of the life of faith.  Jesus is in the real world; he is in danger; he is in danger from natural phenomena and from incarnate evil.  But he is not alone.  He is guarded, looked after, ministered to, by God's angels, by God's providential care.  And that's surely the world into which we pass through baptism.  We are not plucked out of this dangerous world; nor is this dangerous world magically transformed.  We are given the promise that, no matter what, God is with us and is ministering to us.

Our temptation is to want more; to ask God to wipe out the threat of harm and evil.  Well, our first lesson reminds us that God had that very thing in mind at one stage, but relented.  The cost was too great, and he promised never to go down that track again.  In a lovely little touch in this morning's reading, God says that when he sees a rainbow he will remember his promise.  I wonder if we do the same.  When we see a rainbow do we focus only on its beauty?  Do we remember fairy stories about pots of gold, and all the rest of it?  Or do we remember that God has sworn never to give up on this world, no matter what?  Never to give up on us, no matter how far we might fall away from him?  That's the assurance we need to hang onto as we journey through Lent.

Which leaves this strange little passage from the First Letter of Peter.  Even the most confident Bible commentators seem to become a little less assertive when they get to this passage; and we're not helped by the fact that there is nothing else remotely like it in the New Testament.  The classic Jewish belief was that at death all people passed into a shadowy realm called Sheol, the purpose of which was never very clear; and no distinction seemed to be made between the righteous and the unrighteous.  One of the common pleas in the psalms was for a long life to put off passing into Sheol for as long as possible.  That belief was certainly undergoing revision during the last century or so before Christ; and this passage does seem to suggest that there was a special realm where the unrighteous were held, represented especially by the depraved human beings that were wiped out in the Flood.

So perhaps the Risen Christ was sent down into that realm to proclaim God's forgiveness even of them; in other words, to proclaim salvation for all.  That has a better tone to it in my ears than the suggestion that he went to show them what they had missed out on through their disobedience!  Anyway, Holy Saturday is traditionally the day for contemplating that particular mystery, so let's leave it for then.

In the meantime, let us continue our journey through Lent reflecting on our baptism and the salvation we have received through it.  The world remains a wilderness, inhabited by wild animals and other natural dangers, and by incarnate evil.  But we are not alone, and never will be.  Never again will the forces of destruction prevail.  That is the promise given to Noah and fulfilled in Christ.

Next time you see a rainbow remember this promise and give thanks.