As some of you may know, I am a member of that increasingly rare species, a cradle Episcopalian, baptized as an infant in an Episcopal Church in Phoenix, AZ. Growing up we usually lived in small towns where there was no Episcopal Church, so my sister and I went to Sunday school in whatever protestant church was convenient. But I do remember my family often made it a point to drive to an Episcopal Church on Christmas Eve and Easter. Then, when I was ten we moved to Littleton Colorado, and became involved in a church, St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church. I was confirmed there, active in youth groups and so on. Later on I was married in an Episcopal church, active in the Episcopal Cursillo, active in church until my mid-twenties when my first husband and I divorced. Then for a number of reasons, I wandered away and I was gone for about fifteen years. Larry and I were married in a Methodist church, and we tried a few different churches in the early years of our marriage, but didn’t ever really settle in. When life crises finally caught up with us and caused us to consider that religion and God may be of some help, we went to a little Methodist church in the town where we lived. Larry was baptized there, and we were welcomed with open arms.
But deep down my heart yearned for the Episcopal Church. Larry and I were having some problems, and I wanted the comfort of the Eucharist. I longed for the rhythm and cycle of the liturgical seasons. I missed the recitation of psalms, the pattern of our form of worship. I’d even listen to Catholic Mass on EWTN because it sounded familiar, it sounded “right.” Someone told me that once you’ve been immersed in a liturgical worship experience, it’s hard to feel satisfied by other styles, and I felt that, I believed that, yearned for that, and eventually made my way back. And it was like coming home.
The rhythm and cycle of the seasons add both depth and meaning to the Christian year, I think, and many denominations don’t pay them much attention. From Advent we move to Christmas, from Christmas to Epiphany, from Epiphany to Lent, from Lent to Holy Week and Easter, and then to Pentecost, the long green season, and then it starts all over again.
Here we are in Lent. Lent is the forty day period preceding Easter (not counting Sundays). The word, Lent, comes from an old English word, lencten, which means spring. It is also from the Germanic root for long, to lengthen, because in spring the days are getting longer.
Forty is a special number in the Bible, often meant to signify very long time. During the flood it rained for forty days and forty nights, and then God sent a rainbow to symbolize his promise, his covenant, to never destroy the earth again because of our sinfulness. Our Epistle reading in 1st Peter said that the flood was a foreshadowing of our baptisms.
Moses spent forty days encountering God on Mt. Sinai. Elijah walked for forty days and nights on his way to Mt. Horeb. The Hebrew People spent forty years in the wilderness before they entered the Promised Land. And Jesus was driven by the Spirit into the wilderness, the desert, where he spent forty days. There he was tempted by Satan and he was with the wild beasts. And then, some traditions say that Jesus spent 40 hours in the tomb. Another “40.”
Forty days. Forty days to examine our selves and our lives in order to prepare for Easter. Forty days of self examination. Forty days of repentance. Forty days of penitence. Forty days of penance. Forty days of prayer. Forty days of fasting. Forty days of self-denial. Forty days of abstinence. Forty days of reading and meditating on God’s word. Forty days of study. Forty days.
Have all of you come up with a Lenten discipline? Is there something you are giving up for Lent, like candy or alcohol or caffeine or video games? Are there things that you are adding on, like prayer or study? Why do we do this? Is it so that we can feel good about ourselves, our self-denial? Or Is it a time to diet so we can look good at Easter? Do we do this . . . just because it’s what we are supposed to do, to give something up for Lent?
We need to examine our motives and pick things that truly challenge our hearts, things that point us to God, creating space for his presence in our lives.
So why do we do give up things for Lent?
I believe it’s because we are addicted people. Jean Calvin said our hearts are idol factories. We give meaningless things too much importance in our lives, making them idols, and they become addictions. We are addicted to our morning coffee. We are addicted to our daily routines. We are addicted to television. We are addicted to relationships. We are addicted to sugar, to alcohol, to our fears, to our desires. All these things at one time or another usurp the place of God in our lives. They get in the way. They growl and bark like wild beasts, clamoring for our attention. They interfere with our ability to listen to God, to hear him in our lives.
The idea of giving something up is to clear out the noise of our desires, and in that empty space open ourselves up to God’s presence. When our routines our interrupted, when we find ourselves yearning for whatever it is that we have given up, we can find God in that space. If we have chosen wisely, if it doesn’t come too easily, we can find God in that wanting, in that yearning, in that desire. .
Lent is also about personal reflection and self-examination, taking stock of our lives. Where are we in our relationships with God and with each other? How are we doing? What could we do better? How can we improve our relationships with God and with each other? How can we make more space in our lives for those things that are truly important?
Lent can truly be a time of growth and meaning if we have chosen our disciplines well. So if you haven’t chosen something, or even several things, make a point of choosing wisely. If you usually watch the nightly news before bed, try shutting off the television and spending that time in quiet mediation. Change something. Create an emptiness. Challenge yourself to find space and time for growth and for God.
When we give up things that we perhaps love a little too much, we can find God in that emptiness. We can find God when we open ourselves up to hear him, through study of his word, through reading the psalms, through silent meditation. And as we journey through Lent we can pray today’s psalm with all our hearts:
Show me your ways, O Lord, and teach me your paths.
Lead my in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; in you have I trusted all the day long.
Remember, O Lord, your compassion and love, for they are from everlasting.
Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions; remember me according to your love and for the sake of your goodness, O Lord.
Gracious and upright is the Lord; therefore he teaches sinners in his way.
He guides the humble in doing right and teaches his way to the lowly. All the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.
Amen.
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