Bible Text: Genesis 9:8-17 and Mark 1:9-15 | Preacher: Rev. Jenn Geddes
Edvard Munch was a Norwegian painter in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. You might know some of his work, in fact, I bet you know at least one piece of his. It is this particular famous piece that he said met his goal as an artist because it expressed “the study of the soul, that is to say the study of my own self.” Munch also said that inspiration for the painting came to him when he was walking down the road with two friends as the sun was setting- suddenly the sky turned as red as blood. He says, “I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired…My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature.” Munch then produced The Scream in two pastels and two paintings. This painting was meant to portray the scream of modern-day anxiety and existential angst within nature. As a friend and colleague of mine, The Rev. Hugh Donnelly puts it, “It is your scream and my scream; it is the scream of a people caught in a whirlwind of change and fear.” Understandably when the piece first appeared at an exhibit in Berlin it was not well received. The piece was too raw when placed against the landscapes at the time. Raw humanity is hard to see sometimes- and a picture that speaks of the feeling of unspeakable exhaustion and the enormous, infinite scream of nature is perhaps not exactly what we want to have hanging in our living room. We don’t want to linger in pain. Interestingly enough, one of the pastels recently sold at an auction for $119,922,500. I would argue that the piece no longer represents pain or angst but has come to typify grotesque wealth.
I know that when you come to service on Sundays you don’t want to be exposed to raw humanity or linger in pain. I don’t exactly want to preach on it either. However, today the Scriptures actually make us stop for a moment to do just that. Lent is a time to linger in the things that make us uneasy, and to spend time marking human mortality and, as a result, pain. Mark’s passage is unique to the other Gospel stories about Jesus’ time in the wilderness. Firstly, Mark is rather abrupt with his story. It moves rather quickly from scene to scene. This is essentially how the author wrote this Gospel- in quick clips, scenes and descriptions. I suppose you could say that Mark does not spend much time lingering at all. Jesus is baptized and then just as quickly he finds himself in the wilderness. The passage actually says, “And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” Some translations use the term “thrown”. Jesus is tossed into the wilderness where he finds himself surrounded by Satan and wild beasts. He is surrounded by evil.
For 1st century people who lived in villages, towns and cities in the Middle East, surrounded by the desert, you can imagine how they read this story. The wilderness and wild beasts were not solely a dangerous reality but a place caught in a whirlwind of change and fear. Most communities at the time were walled not only to keep people safe inside but to protect them from what was beyond: the sand, soldiers, and beasts that threatened their very existence. The wilderness was literally filled with dangers. However, we can also read this figuratively, as with Munch’s painting. The objects found in the wilderness represent anxiety, fear, exhaustion and infinity. “The wild beasts could represent the shadow side of reality, that deep, dark world of chaotic evil that bubbles up from time to time to challenge us.” Either way, Jesus is tossed into their midst. But notice how Jesus stays there. Nowhere, in any of the Gospels, does it say that Jesus attempted to flee or find safety or leave the wilderness. Jesus spends 40 days- a symbolic number that means “a long time”- in this wilderness surrounded by beasts and temptation. Jesus lingers in a place in pain and fear, anxiety and chaos, and for what? To prepare himself for ministry in the world, in the true places of pain, the real places of temptation, the actual places of fear and chaos, the literal wild places where people find themselves every day. Jesus embraces this scream of nature- of all creation- and spends time there so that he can truly know what it is that humanity feels.
This story also reminds me that it is important to be honest, especially when we are dealing with our own pain. “We don’t need to pretend it is OK when it’s not. We don’t need to rush out of a place of grief when we’re not ready for it. We don’t need to wear a mask of serenity when we’re really coming apart at the seams.” Sometimes we need to linger and rest in the places of pain, sometimes we need to scream. It can be uncomfortable, yes, but it doesn’t mean that every day is doom and gloom but rather, it is an honest acknowledgement of where we are at.
Douglas John Hall, one of my favourite modern day Canadian theologians, has written much about the idea that we love to spend time celebrating the God of victory. The God who rose on Easter morning, defeating the powers of death and evil. The God who makes everything OK. There are many ways in which God’s activity in the world is expressed in this way. Our story in Genesis is often used to demonstrate that good can come out of bad situations. But Dr. Hall also states that we often jump too quickly into Easter or victory or the happy stories and we forget that the cross is also part of God’s activity in the world. Dr. Hall states, “The cross represents the God who chooses suffering because God knows just how much we suffer. This is the God who feels our pain of disease and brokenness in those times when everyone knows there is no cure. This is the God who doesn’t rush too quickly way from the wild beasts, but sits with them, because sometimes we can’t run away from them. This is the God who suffers, who chooses to suffer, with humanity. Sometimes the greatest comfort lies not in finding cure from ills of the world but rather lies in knowing we do not suffer alone.” Put another way, not every struggle results in a rainbow.
I know that you come to hear a sermon that is joyful and humorous. I know this is not what you want to hear this morning. But I also know that so many in our congregation are suffering in big and small ways. Perhaps it is suffering from grief- we have all lost members of this congregation whom we loved. Perhaps it is suffering from physical ailments or perhaps it is suffering from the realities of ageing. We can’t hide the fact that so many of us have upcoming surgeries, treatments, diagnosed challenges ahead. Perhaps it is any number of things and sometimes you just want to scream. There is a lot to celebrate too, I know that, and I’m sure many of you come today with praise in your hearts because you are filled with gratitude. Perhaps you are celebrating time with grandchildren, or healing from a recent illness, or feeling a real sense of comfort in this particular stage in your life. I do not want to diminish that there are many good stories to share this morning. I only want you to know that we do not need to run away from the wild beasts of our lives.
I want to return to words from Hugh Donnelly. He says, “God sits with us in our places of pain; God does not miraculously remove us from such places. Maybe it’s OK sometimes for us to linger for a while in the wilderness with the wild beasts. Perhaps we may actually need to do just that. And if we do, then we won’t risk denying that (sometimes) painful part of our humanity, sweeping it under the carpet as if it is not there. Maybe we will discover that we don’t need to leave the wilderness to find God. For God will meet us in the wilderness. After all, Jesus went there before we did. Lingered there in order to meet us. The Lord does not abandon us to the wild beasts. We endure the beasts with the Lord at our side.” Know that this is true throughout Lent, throughout living, throughout our ageing. The Lord lingers with us and is at our side. Amen