O Lord, help us to trust what you have said in
Jesus Christ. Amen.
Plausible deniability – even if we don’t know exactly what it means, it’s a strategy we all use. When we are guilty of something, if there is a reasonable way for us to claim that we didn’t know what we were doing was wrong or that a rule was being broken, we clutch onto that excuse, hoping it will exonerate us from all accountability. We see it happen in business – when a manager claims not to know what their employees were doing. We see it in politics – when an elected official claims they did not know that their campaign donations came from a shady character. We see it in relationships – “Oh, I didn’t know that you didn’t want me to tell anyone about that.” We see it in parenting – when one sibling hears a rule spoken by a parent but then says they didn’t realize that it also applied to them. Plausible deniability is a favorite strategy for doing whatever we want and then trying to get explain it away.
On
this first Sunday in Lent, the readings show us the dangers of plausible
deniability when it comes to faith. There is a refrain that we can hear running
through these readings – “Did God really say?” When we have heard the word of God
and our response is “Did I really hear that,” well, we get into a lot of
trouble. The first example of plausible deniability in Scripture comes in the passage
we heard from Genesis. God has blessed Adam and Eve with all they need to
thrive in the garden of Eden. But, as with all blessings, there is a boundary
to maintain. “If you eat of that particular tree, you will die.” It’s not a
threat, it’s a boundary. With the knowledge of good and evil comes the reality
of death.
Plausible
deniability is introduced by the serpent – “Did God say that?” God’s provision
is perverted into a prohibition. Notice a few things about what happens here.
First, Eve’s response is “God said ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of that
tree, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.” God didn’t say that though. God
said nothing about touching the fruit, only eating it. Before we blame Eve for this,
she had not yet been created in Genesis 2 when God gave the boundary to
Adam. So it could be that Adam is the one to blame. The issue is that God’s
commandment has been made stricter, turned into legalism. How much trouble we
get in when we apply plausible deniability to faith and say things like “Well,
I’m sure this is what God really meant.”
The
bigger issue is in how this whole scene unfolds – here are Adam, Eve, and the
serpent – we might call them the first theologians – sitting around talking
about God instead of talking with God. At this point in Genesis, God and the
humans are in fairly regular conversation. But they did not turn to God and ask
“Now what was it that you told us?” No, instead, they misremember what God said
and then because they were speaking with the serpent instead of God, they are
given plausible deniability – “Well, the serpent told us it was okay.”
In
Lent, we often talk about the importance of prayer and reading Scripture. The
Church does not recommend these things to help you with your temper, or to make
you holier, or anything like that. No, we focus on spiritual disciples to be
with God in a world that is so busy and distracting. We drop the excuse of
plausible deniability by listening for God’s word to us in Scripture and prayer.
And if you’re interested in learning more about prayer, you’re in luck – we have
a class about prayer on Sundays and Wednesdays in Lent. It’s about spending
time with God so that we are not tempted to ask “Did God really say that?”
As
a result of their disobedience, Adam and Eve are no longer fit to remain in
Eden, and so they are banished and sent into the wilderness to make a new home.
And it is in that wilderness created by Sin that we find Jesus in the text this
morning from Matthew, where, again, there is the temptation to claim plausible deniability.
It was the serpent in Genesis, here it is a character that is referred to by
three different names by Matthew – the diabolical one, which translates to “the
slanderer,” the tempter, and the satan, which translates to “the accuser.” The
reason why it’s helpful to think of the Devil in terms of a being is that is
how we experience and struggle with evil. Evil is not a thought experiment that
only happens in simulations or on paper. No, evil is real – it looks like
abuse, war, childhood hunger, greed, lying, stealing. Evil is something that we
experience personally – it hurts just as much as physical pain. It’s why you can
physically feel betrayal or grief. And because evil is experienced personally, it
is described as a person lest we think of evil as something abstract and
intangible.
There
are three temptations – about food for someone who is famished, about trusting
in God to protect us, and about having the power to usher in a kingdom of justice
and peace over the earth. To be clear, none of these suggestions made by the Devil
are bad or unholy. The devil even gives Scriptural support for all of them –
which is a reminder that Scripture can be misread and misapplied. We can twist
Scripture to be on our side rather easily, the more important question is to
ask whether we are on God’s side of things. The substance of the temptations is
not the problem, rather it is the motivation – and all revolve around the
dangers of plausible deniability by asking that seemingly innocent question
about what God said.
What happened just before
Jesus’ time in the wilderness was his Baptism – an event at which the voice of
the Father proclaimed, “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.”
Well, the Devil’s first attack is an assault on that truth. By saying to Jesus,
“If you are the Son of God command these stones to become bread,” he is saying “Did
God really call you his Son? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him.” It’s a
temptation to try to prove that which needs no proof. When we forget that our identity
is secure in the love of God, a lot of bad things happen when we search for our
identity and value in other places.
The next temptation about
testing God to see if Jesus would be spared from a trust fall from the pinnacle
of the temple distorts our relationship with God. It is introduced by that question
of plausible deniability – didn’t God say that you wouldn’t dash your foot
against a stone? It’s a temptation to have the license to do whatever we want.
Didn’t God say be fruitful and multiply, so why be faithful in your marriage?
Didn’t God bless you, so that wealth is just for you to enjoy, no need to share
it with others. Didn’t God promise to forgive us, so why not throw caution to
the wind and live it up? It’s a question of whether we use God as a tool to
serve our needs and justify our desires, or are we servants of God with a mission
to give and minister to a world in need? If, somehow, whenever we ask “Did God
really say that” we always get the answer we want, that’s a clue that we might be
seeking plausible deniability more than faithful obedience.
The third temptation is
about earthly power. And isn’t interesting that the Devil claims ownership over
the kingdoms of the world – that should tell us something about how little
faith we should be putting in human institutions, whether they be
denominations, corporations, or governments. It’s a temptation about our
impatience mixed with plausible deniability. Did God really say that all things
will be redeemed? Wouldn’t it be easier if you just sped things up a bit? Just
worship me and I’ll give you the keys to the kingdom. Isn’t that what God would
want?
Jesus
counters these temptations of plausible deniability in the wilderness because
of his clear relationship with God. He does not think about God, he knows God.
And by overcoming the temptation to Sin, he defeats Sin and paves the way for
us that leads from the wilderness of Sin back to the garden of God’s grace and
love.
We
heard St. Paul reflect on this in the reading from Romans – “Therefore just as
one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of
righteousness leads to justification and life for all.” But we doubt this, and religion
is often misused to plant the seeds to plausible deniability – does God really
love you? Are you really forgiven for that thing that you did? Did God really
say that it is more blessed to give than to receive? Did Jesus really say “This
is my Body”? And when we doubt that the answer to those questions is a resounding
and grace-filled “yes,” we create so many problems when we try to self-justify.
We clamor over titles, we amass wealth, we obsess about our reputation – all of
which just leads to more anxiety and uncertainty. We have been told that we are
justified, forgiven, and loved. And when we doubt that or when we turn religion
into more hoops to jump through to prove our salvation or worthiness, then the plausible
deniability of the evil one has ensnared us.
As
I’ve mentioned in a few sermons over the last few months, one of the struggles
that we are facing today is a world that has been disenchanted – a world that
has no room for the divine or the spiritual because everything is about what
can be proven. Things do not have deeper meanings, rather things mean what we say
that they mean, so instead of trusting in the truth, we have to discover and
make our own. The temptation of plausible deniability for us is the simple question
“Did God say anything at all?” Isn’t religion just a coping mechanism, isn’t it
just superstition, isn’t religion the cause of the world’s problems? Our
culture invites and influences us to deny that God has said anything at all,
making it plausible to claim that we have no need of God.
One
look around the world and we can see how that’s working out – when we turn away
from God and try to justify ourselves, we should not be surprised to learn of a
growing wealth gap, increasing depression rates, more anger and disrespect in
our public discourse, and more tribalism. In a world in which the enchanting love
of God has become plausibly deniable, so too have the ideas of peace, mercy,
and humility slipped away from us. One of the things that we, as people of
faith, must proclaim is that we have heard God speak, and that it is a word of
hope and love.
It’s
interesting that the temptations in both Genesis and Matthew revolve around
food – the fruit and the bread. And those temptations are still all around us –
the fruit that allows us to be our own gods and the bread of our own self-sufficiency.
The Church has been given a gift from God, a different food to offer – the Body
and Blood of Jesus in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. In receiving this
grace of God, all plausible deniability is erased as we receive these sacred tokens
of God’s very real and saving grace.
So, come and eat, not because you have it all sorted out, but because you are struggling. Come, not because you are full, but because you are hungry. Come, not because you understand it all, but because you are understood by the One who made you. Come, not because you deserve a place here, but because Jesus has said that you are invited. Come, because there is no denying what you are: the beloved of God.
