Homily for Laetare
The Fourth Sunday in Lent
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
March 26, 2022
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Welcome to the S.S. Laetare. We think we are cruising on smooth seas now, and while we know that Palm Sunday and Holy Week lie just ahead, we believe that we really might make it. We even had a foretaste of what is to come this past Friday, when our hangings, and silver vessels, and that “A” word we could say then— but not today!— were shining brightly as we released one of our own back to God. This fourth Sunday in Lent is supposed to be just a bit more joyful, with rose vestments (if available,) and a hopeful sense of the brightness to come. ‘What could possibly stand in our way?’ we think.
Well. . .we could. It is pathetically easy to stand in our own way. There is much work to be done, and it is right here in front of us, like a boulder in the road. Today’s lessons remind us that we were invited into a holy Lent to reconcile with God and each other, and that has likely not yet happened as we hoped.
I am perhaps preaching to myself. (If you are just fine in this regard, please consider this ‘Support Your Rector Sunday,’ and just hang out with me for a few minutes.) For most of us, forgiveness is terribly hard. It takes real and difficult work to get beyond what we need to relinquish, and a dear friend reminded me this past week — in that most beautiful way which leads by example—that I have been holding onto it for long enough. It’s in this holding that we find ourselves separated from God, and after a while, this feels spiritually the way that not breathing feels physically.
So I embrace, this morning, all of the pain of Psalm 32. “Do not be like horse or mule, which have no understanding;” God said, (also to me,) “who must be fitted with bit and bridle, or else they will not stay near you.” The human heart is undeniably tenacious, but we have been given this relationship with our Creator in order to mitigate our stubbornness. God wants us to be healed and whole.
2022’s 4th Sunday in Lent is also different because we feel like maybe we have turned the corner on the Pandemic. Yes, BA2 is selling newspapers, but I do not believe that we need to be in a place of panic at this moment. Our congregation is well vaccinated, and barring orders that I am required to follow, we will likely retain the pattern we now use, whereby each person chooses what works best for them; we will also probably continue to see some of us in masks. That Anglican phrase that I like to throw around applies here perfectly: “All may, some should, none must.”
I remind you of that, because in the reading from the Hebrew Bible, we see an exit from another long journey that —like the Pandemic— was not without its gifts. When we move from one long occupied space into another, we depend on God differently. “This is an important text — a critical point in the narrative,” advises Samuel Giere as he speaks of the Israelite’s relationship with God. “It is the fulfillment of a promise. . . The movement out of the liminality of the wilderness into the promised land. The sign of the covenant is restored. The command to celebrate the Passover is fulfilled. The temporary provision of manna is proven truly temporary, something that it would have been difficult to convince any Israelite of during their incredibly predictable wilderness buffet.”
What has become predictable or dependable during our own wilderness time? Have we perhaps grown more isolated to the point that we can just move away from relationships which don’t suit us post-pandemic? And yes, I am speaking of both holy relationships and human. We can now retreat with impunity if we want to do so. . .but is that God’s hope for us? I do not think so. Moreover, I think we find caution in the story we know as, ‘The Prodigal Son.” Our Preparing for Sunday resource tells us that, “It has been called the parable of “the two lost sons,” for both are self-centered, each in a different way, and both misunderstand their relationship to their father. . . the parable is also called “the parable of the waiting father,” for it is the father who takes the initiative, watching for his wayward son and having compassion on him as soon as he is seen. The father invests him with the clothing that marks his restored status as a son, not a servant—as one who is free (servants did not wear shoes) and in authority (signified by the ring.) (https://www.preparingforsunday.com/Lectionary/rm66rm39rr/)
Yes, I see your wheels turning. That is exactly like “Harry Potter has given Dobby a sock.” Rowling likely wrote from the place we all inhabit: Scripture is embedded, even if we do not practice a particular faith. There is a reason we Episcopalians have embraced the Anglican tradition of rhythm and repetition that is our liturgy. We need this lifeboat more often than not.
Usually, the cause for repentance comes from ourselves,” notes Anna Sutterisch. “The power of evil always desires to separate us from one another, from God, and from ourselves, but we are given the freedom of choice to give in to that power or not. Sometimes it’s intentional, acting out of ambition or selfishness or ego, and sometimes we look up and find ourselves lost, the sheep who wandered away from the herd. In whatever ways we sin or turn our backs on God, God is waiting to meet us when we return.” (https://www.episcopalchurch.org/sermon/repentance-and-reconciliation-lent-4-c-march-27-2022/)
“Evermore give us this bread.” Despite our tendency to be selfish, stubborn, or lost, we do eventually realize that we are turning away the very manna which God graciously offers. This food now comes from God through Jesus, not withheld, but offered every Sunday at the Altar Rail. May we do the necessary and difficult work to worthily carry it out into the world.
Amen.
Photo credit Maggie McGill
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