Every day there seems to be a new no – which are often announced with an emphatic and victorious yes. Yes, we killed that initiative. Yes, we shut down that fraud and corruption. Yes, we are kicking those illegals out of the country. Yes, we are saving money so we can cut taxes. Some of the yeses are reputedly based on economic and policy strategies designed to make America great again. But most come across as malicious salvos, as nasty payback for having to suffer elite and “woke” agendas which were crafted to inflict shame on those who were not in the privileged cohort or who didn’t share the same beliefs. ‘You had us for all those years; now we have you.’ That’s not policy; it’s vengeance.
How do we say yes in the midst of all this?
For many Christians, we find ourselves in the beginning weeks of Lent. For many of us, Lent has long been a season of no – of giving up personal amenities for a season – French fries, chocolate, alcohol – one year I gave up listening to sports radio, all undertaken to have some solidarity with Jesus, who, during his forty day sojourn in the wilderness (which commemorates the season of Lent), said no to the temptations of the devil, who showed up when Jesus was the most hungry, exhausted and vulnerable. ‘Turn these stones into bread’. No, Jesus replied. ‘You can rule over the whole world if you worship me’. No, Jesus said again. ‘You can throw yourself down from the temple and not get hurt’. No, you shall not put God to the test’. (Luke 4:1-13)
We face those same temptations, yet on a much different scale. Turning stones into bread is the temptation to be relevant: to say the right thing to impress others, to name-drop in order to advance one’s status, to inflate the number of connections to swell the ego. Rule the world is the temptation to be powerful: power over our children, our employees, our neighbors or some group marginalized because of their race, gender, identity, or zip code. Throw yourself down from the pinnacle of the temple is the temptation to be spectacular: to show how glamorous or brilliant or strong we are. And each temptation comes with the tendency to inflate our stories of connections and accomplishments – with fibs or prevarications.
No doubt it was hard for Jesus to say no. And I know, as do many of us, how hard it is say no to the temptation to be relevant, powerful or spectacular. Before he faced the devil’s set-up, which was the beginning of his ministry, he had over a decade to prepare. Prepare to say yes. Before he said no to the devil, I am of the conviction that he said yes to God. Yes to hope. Yes to mercy. Yes to freedom. Yes to love. He never let go of those yeses, even at the end of his short life when he faced betrayal, fraud, corruption, torture and death.
It is important to give some space to yes – as we are confronted with yet another no. Finding the space may indeed involve giving some things up, but it also might involve taking things on.
Taking on the yes.
Every Wednesday this Lent I am taking on saying yes by standing vigil for 45 minutes with a sign that contains the words of the prophet Micah: “What does the Lord require of you? Do Justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
Create space. Carry a sign. Engage in a fast from food, finance and media one day a week. Find a way to say yes. It might, just might, have an effect on the torrential rain of no. At the least, it will fortify our souls. The world needs our witness. So do our souls.
