New Kid
Tomorrow I get to preach at the Community Service. As the new priest at St. Mark's I am also the new kid to the Ministerial Association, so they all thought. . . . I do not think anyone there reads this blog, so a late night posting is probably safe in terms of it being a spoiler. So here is the sermon if you are interested!
Sermon: Community Service Mother of Good Counsel Catholic Church
March 19, 2008
(Hebrews 12: 1-3; John 13: 21-32)
Somehow, when the Ministerial Association welcomed me into the fold and asked me to preach this week as the “New Kid on the Block,” the end of Lent seemed decades away. As a time of attempted self-denial, Lent usually seems to drag, but not this year. It is hard to believe that we are already halfway through Holy Week. How did six weeks pass so quickly? (Of course, time is a funny thing. I expect it does seem like 22 years since Hazard has been in the Sweet 16, but our middle son turned 22 this week and that seems like a blur.)
In real time, as opposed to perceived time, Lent was not always six weeks, although it has been that way for centuries now. In the very early church, Lent was only three weeks long. In the 5th century, they changed the time to be 40 days of fasting. There was some discussion about Sundays, though, and late in the 5th century, 4 days were added just to make sure that there were still 40 full days in which to fast. That is when Ash Wednesday came into being. The scriptural models for that length of time make sense to us of course, so it has been that way ever since.
In the passage from Hebrews that is part of the Daily Office Lectionary today, Paul compares life to a race. Do we perhaps see Lent in that way? Maybe we decide to eat no meat for six weeks, or avoid fatty food. Perhaps we set goals of spiritual reading for ourselves or promise to take better care of this physical temple that houses our spirits. It is just something to get through, right? It is like a race—it has a beginning and an end. We can distract ourselves for that long.
One of my favorite distractions is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. KET has been running lots of Austen in Lent—maybe they thought we needed something other than self denial on which to focus. You may know the story—5 daughters, entailed estate, heroes, villains, mistaken impressions and of course pride. At one point Mr. Bennett, the father of all of those girls, tells his two eldest daughters about the timely rescue of their youngest sisters (and thus nearly their own) scandalized reputation. Mr. Darcy has secretly bailed out the situation, thrusting Mr. Bennett into a state of both relief and shame. His second daughter, Elizabeth, is worried, and he reassures her by saying, “I am heartily ashamed of myself, Lizzie. But don't despair; it'll pass, and no doubt more quickly than it should.”
If we do see Lent as just something that will pass, (and perhaps more quickly than it should,) we are missing a very important message.
When we look at the context for the Gospel lesson for today, we realize that this passage immediately follows the foot washing, and precedes the scene where Jesus tells all of the other disciples (because Judas has departed) that they will fail to be steadfast and will even deny him. This passage tells us there is one particular traitor, but Judas will not be alone in deserting Jesus.
John begins the passage by telling us that Jesus is greatly troubled. Of course he would be! He has lived closely with these people, day in and day out for several years. Moments before today’s passage begins he had completed washing all of their feet, one by one. This was something usually relegated to the lowest servant, and their leader and teacher had knelt in front of each one, gently taken their feet, gazed into their eyes, and in a moment of incredible intimacy, let each one of them—even Judas—know that they were loved not only in that moment, but for always.
Jesus knew what was coming, and loved them without reservation. When they would later remember their own inability to have “run the race,” in that instance, they would also remember that Jesus had loved them even with that troubling knowledge.
I do not know about you, but with my Lenten track record, I find that incredibly comforting.
Of course, some of us may NOT have failed “Lent 101.” But it is human nature that if we pull in the sails in one direction, then it is not surprising that our boat then tips in another direction. For example, we may have been able to restrict our food intake. How did our ability to be kind to others work without chocolate? Or if we were able to put away our selfish and greedy desires after Mardi Gras, have we been counting the hours until we could indulge again?
I might as well confess at this point that at the end of Lent, by most standards, I have largely failed in the goals I have set. The extreme denials gave way weeks ago to logically rationalized exceptions. But where Lent may really matter, I wonder if there actually is total system failure?
You see, every choice I made, even the bad ones, were made with more thought, care and focus. I did not give up all of the bad food as I had hoped to do. I did not walk four miles every day as I had hoped to do. I have not completed one extra book each week in an effort to study, contemplate and pray about my relationship with God.
[Yes, you might say that on Ash Wednesday, my ‘inner Martha’ was in overdrive.]
But I have eaten less, and I have thought more about others who always have only that option. I have walked more often and farther distances than I did before Lent. And while I have not completed even one volume, I have spent some time nearly every day with Scripture, Commentaries, spiritual literature or prayer books. I have often had walks with the wind around me in a comforting and challenging Presence, and I have chosen to drive for long amounts of time in silence, at one with these mountains and their Creator.
Perhaps I needed all six weeks just to begin to open my heart in these ways. And that seems just fine when I remember that the race I am running is not Lent, but Life as a Christian.
It will take many Lenten seasons before my gait is improved and my time is honed to a more competitive standard. But what I have learned in this Lent, my first as an ordained person, is that I will continue to try --and will no doubt continue to fail. And through it all, I will have the love of the Savior who has always loved me and always will, even given my failings.
Lent cannot last forever; after all, we are people of the Resurrection. But the lessons we can learn each Lent will help us build muscle and face our frailty all at the same time.
This Lenten time reawakens in each of us the magnitude of the loving sacrifice of Jesus. It creates time and space to cultivate our personal relationship with our Redeemer. This time reminds us that we are not nearly as wonderful as we thought we were, and then gives us the chance to lay aside the weight and sin that hold us back. We humbly learn anew that hanging on to the baggage of sin and worthlessness in the face of such an extraordinary love becomes impossible.
Amen.
Sermon: Community Service Mother of Good Counsel Catholic Church
March 19, 2008
(Hebrews 12: 1-3; John 13: 21-32)
Somehow, when the Ministerial Association welcomed me into the fold and asked me to preach this week as the “New Kid on the Block,” the end of Lent seemed decades away. As a time of attempted self-denial, Lent usually seems to drag, but not this year. It is hard to believe that we are already halfway through Holy Week. How did six weeks pass so quickly? (Of course, time is a funny thing. I expect it does seem like 22 years since Hazard has been in the Sweet 16, but our middle son turned 22 this week and that seems like a blur.)
In real time, as opposed to perceived time, Lent was not always six weeks, although it has been that way for centuries now. In the very early church, Lent was only three weeks long. In the 5th century, they changed the time to be 40 days of fasting. There was some discussion about Sundays, though, and late in the 5th century, 4 days were added just to make sure that there were still 40 full days in which to fast. That is when Ash Wednesday came into being. The scriptural models for that length of time make sense to us of course, so it has been that way ever since.
In the passage from Hebrews that is part of the Daily Office Lectionary today, Paul compares life to a race. Do we perhaps see Lent in that way? Maybe we decide to eat no meat for six weeks, or avoid fatty food. Perhaps we set goals of spiritual reading for ourselves or promise to take better care of this physical temple that houses our spirits. It is just something to get through, right? It is like a race—it has a beginning and an end. We can distract ourselves for that long.
One of my favorite distractions is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. KET has been running lots of Austen in Lent—maybe they thought we needed something other than self denial on which to focus. You may know the story—5 daughters, entailed estate, heroes, villains, mistaken impressions and of course pride. At one point Mr. Bennett, the father of all of those girls, tells his two eldest daughters about the timely rescue of their youngest sisters (and thus nearly their own) scandalized reputation. Mr. Darcy has secretly bailed out the situation, thrusting Mr. Bennett into a state of both relief and shame. His second daughter, Elizabeth, is worried, and he reassures her by saying, “I am heartily ashamed of myself, Lizzie. But don't despair; it'll pass, and no doubt more quickly than it should.”
If we do see Lent as just something that will pass, (and perhaps more quickly than it should,) we are missing a very important message.
When we look at the context for the Gospel lesson for today, we realize that this passage immediately follows the foot washing, and precedes the scene where Jesus tells all of the other disciples (because Judas has departed) that they will fail to be steadfast and will even deny him. This passage tells us there is one particular traitor, but Judas will not be alone in deserting Jesus.
John begins the passage by telling us that Jesus is greatly troubled. Of course he would be! He has lived closely with these people, day in and day out for several years. Moments before today’s passage begins he had completed washing all of their feet, one by one. This was something usually relegated to the lowest servant, and their leader and teacher had knelt in front of each one, gently taken their feet, gazed into their eyes, and in a moment of incredible intimacy, let each one of them—even Judas—know that they were loved not only in that moment, but for always.
Jesus knew what was coming, and loved them without reservation. When they would later remember their own inability to have “run the race,” in that instance, they would also remember that Jesus had loved them even with that troubling knowledge.
I do not know about you, but with my Lenten track record, I find that incredibly comforting.
Of course, some of us may NOT have failed “Lent 101.” But it is human nature that if we pull in the sails in one direction, then it is not surprising that our boat then tips in another direction. For example, we may have been able to restrict our food intake. How did our ability to be kind to others work without chocolate? Or if we were able to put away our selfish and greedy desires after Mardi Gras, have we been counting the hours until we could indulge again?
I might as well confess at this point that at the end of Lent, by most standards, I have largely failed in the goals I have set. The extreme denials gave way weeks ago to logically rationalized exceptions. But where Lent may really matter, I wonder if there actually is total system failure?
You see, every choice I made, even the bad ones, were made with more thought, care and focus. I did not give up all of the bad food as I had hoped to do. I did not walk four miles every day as I had hoped to do. I have not completed one extra book each week in an effort to study, contemplate and pray about my relationship with God.
[Yes, you might say that on Ash Wednesday, my ‘inner Martha’ was in overdrive.]
But I have eaten less, and I have thought more about others who always have only that option. I have walked more often and farther distances than I did before Lent. And while I have not completed even one volume, I have spent some time nearly every day with Scripture, Commentaries, spiritual literature or prayer books. I have often had walks with the wind around me in a comforting and challenging Presence, and I have chosen to drive for long amounts of time in silence, at one with these mountains and their Creator.
Perhaps I needed all six weeks just to begin to open my heart in these ways. And that seems just fine when I remember that the race I am running is not Lent, but Life as a Christian.
It will take many Lenten seasons before my gait is improved and my time is honed to a more competitive standard. But what I have learned in this Lent, my first as an ordained person, is that I will continue to try --and will no doubt continue to fail. And through it all, I will have the love of the Savior who has always loved me and always will, even given my failings.
Lent cannot last forever; after all, we are people of the Resurrection. But the lessons we can learn each Lent will help us build muscle and face our frailty all at the same time.
This Lenten time reawakens in each of us the magnitude of the loving sacrifice of Jesus. It creates time and space to cultivate our personal relationship with our Redeemer. This time reminds us that we are not nearly as wonderful as we thought we were, and then gives us the chance to lay aside the weight and sin that hold us back. We humbly learn anew that hanging on to the baggage of sin and worthlessness in the face of such an extraordinary love becomes impossible.
Amen.
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