Lenten Reflections

Sermon for Lent 2 February 28, 2010



Two Sundays ago, February 14th, Bishop Shannon made his first official visit to Buck Mountain Church and celebrated with us there the last Sunday in the season of Epiphany. That Sunday is also known as Transfiguration Sunday, appropriately, as it makes the transition into Lent, and we are reminded of the mountaintop event when the apostles saw Jesus shining with the radiance of God. Bishop Shannon counseled us to remember that we share in the transfiguration. As poet and priest Gerard Manley Hopkins beautifully expressed it, "The world is charged with the grandeur of God/it will flame out like shining from shook foil..." Through Christ, who lives within us, we are endowed with the ability to shine forth with God's glory and God's blessing.

The collect we read on Transfiguration Sunday includes the following words: "Grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory." I'd like to point out the way this statement is worded: it says, may we "be strengthened to bear our cross." It doesn't say "if we have a cross, help us to bear it." No, the collect assumes what the Lord knows and what we adults have had ample opportunities to learn: all of us have crosses to bear.

Now, I admit that in a secret corner of my heart, and I expect this is true for most of us, I harbor a life-long wish to live to be at least 100, to have good health my whole life, and to have a pain-free, problem-free life. In other words, I would prefer not to have a cross to bear, thank you very much. Of course I know this is a complete fantasy. There is scarcely a day that goes by when we don't have some difficulty to face, whether it is a small annoyance, like feeling misunderstood by a coworker, or a major crisis, like dealing with illness or the illness of someone we love. Crosses are plentiful.

During a baptism, the priest or bishop anoints the child's forehead with oil, making the sign of the cross and saying, "You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ's own forever." I am grateful we renew our baptismal vows from time to time. It is always good to be reminded that we have been sealed and marked as "Christ's own forever." The sign of the cross symbolizes our union with Christ.

There are three occasions when a priest makes the sign of the cross on someone's forehead. One is at baptism. Another is during a healing service, when the person is anointed with oil and the priest prays for his or her physical and spiritual healing. The third occurs in a solemn ritual to mark the beginning of the penitential season of Lent, the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday, when the priest says these words: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Why is a cross applied to our bodies in such a personal way on these three sacramental occasions?

The cross traced lovingly on our forehead is the place where divinity and humanity meet. Because we are human, each of us has a cross to bear. The cross reminds us of this, but it also reminds us that Christ became human, lived and died as one of us, so that He could understand and share our suffering. We are not alone in our suffering or in our joy. As Paul writes in the letter to the Philipians, "He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory..." The spark of His divinity we carry inside us is a transfiguring spirit, capable of breathing life into the very dust. Some effort is required of us, however; we play an important part in our own transformation from sinner to saved, from cross-bearer to one who is redeemed.

The forty days of Lent are set aside as a time to repent. One definition of repent is "to think again." How often do we willingly revisit the choices we have made or the words we've said? Such self-examination requires us to be honest about our behavior and our attitudes. When we seek forgiveness, we need to acknowledge the ways we have missed the mark, especially since the Lord knows them before we do. Another meaning of the word repent is "turn again." By being honest and humble about our own failings, we make a conscious decision to turn more fully to God.

The gospel lesson for last Sunday, the first Sunday in Lent, was the story of Jesus's forty days in the wilderness. Remember, before he entered the wilderness, Jesus had just been baptized, had just heard the voice of God proclaiming him as His beloved Son. No wonder he needed some time alone, to examine his own heart and determine what he was being called to do. During his long stay in the desert, we are told by Luke, "He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished." It is at this point, at a time of great physical stress and mental anguish, when Jesus undergoes a very human experience: he is tempted by Satan. Luke tells the story of this encounter and Satan's three temptations in striking words:

The first one: "The devil said to him, 'If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.'" And the second...

"Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, 'To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.'" Finally...

"Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, 'If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written,
'He will command his angels concerning you,
to protect you,'
and
'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"

When I was a child, I heard this story and imagined a red-horned devil, like the cartoonish one that sits on a person's shoulder and competes for her soul with the angel on her other shoulder. Now, I think it is more terrifying to recognize in Jesus’s experience a tempter like the one I often encounter. Jesus, in the wilderness to come to terms with the staggering challenge of being called God's son, is not only wrestling with his identity, but is weak and starving as well. At this very vulnerable moment, his thoughts have taken him to a dangerous place: the place where he feels the need to test his power and test the father who gave such power to him. That's not very surprising, is it?

The first temptation, the first wayward thought, has to do with his most pressing need: hunger. Someone who is starving is capable of doing very drastic things in order to get food, and may even be subject to hallucinations. We can almost see that interior demon whispering, “Shouldn’t the Son of God be able to turn a stone into something to eat?” Jesus shows remarkable strength in brushing that thought aside.

While the first temptation had to do with a basic physical need, the next one appeals to pride. “Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world.” Can you imagine that vision, as the Lord must have seen it? We learn much about his humility when he resists the offer of unimaginable power.

The third temptation sounds like a product of fear, a foreseeing into the dark end he faces. He must have wondered, will my father really be there to rescue me when I need him, or is this all my imagination? Yes, the psalm says the angels will swarm to protect him, but can he trust that to happen? Can he trust the absent Father to come through for him? Those are thoughts we have certainly had in our most fearful moments. At this point in his life, Christ has not begun his ministry and is beginning to come to terms with his identity and the difficulties he will surely face. It isn't so surprising his fear may cause him to question God, to have a sliver of doubt.

No, it's not surprising that a starving young man at the beginning of a new and challenging ministry would suffer the temptations of doubt and fear. What is remarkable is how decisively he rejects them. As we face our own inner demons during this Lenten season (and during any season of the year), it is very good to be reminded that Christ has faced demons of his own. He understands that kind of human suffering, too. The forty days of the Lenten penitential season are offered as a kind of wilderness experience for us, and we can be comforted by the knowledge that Christ knows how to deal with temptations and intervenes for us as we confront our own demons.

The point of fasting, or whatever penitential practice we undertake during Lent, is to teach us to endure hardship as it brings us closer to our Lord. Paul says as much in his letter to the Corinthians, "as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities." Now, it is unlikely any of us will have to endure the kinds of afflictions, hardships and calamities that Paul describes, which include beatings and imprisonment. The cross we wear reminds us that Christ endured the worst kind of hardship on our behalves, so we don't have to. Through our Lenten practice, we acknowledge the reality of that gift with gratitude.

The prophet Joel has the Lord say it in this way: "Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful." In our Lenten reflection, we rend our hearts with repentance, with self-examination and self-honesty, and with God's mercy, we survive the process.

Close your eyes and imagine a cross being traced on your forehead. Remember, it is Christ's finger touching you, Christ reassuring you that he is ever with you, especially in times of pain. Yes, we are dust and to dust we will return, but even the dust is holy.

Our psalm for today, Psalm 27, offers some of the most comforting words anyone could hear during a time of distress. I would like to have us read that together now. It is found on page 617 of the Book of Common Prayer.

Psalm 27 Page 617, BCP
Dominus illuminatio
1
The LORD is my light and my salvation;
whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life;
of whom then shall I be afraid?
2
When evildoers came upon me to eat up my flesh, *
it was they, my foes and my adversaries, who
stumbled and fell.
3
Though an army should encamp against me, *
yet my heart shall not be afraid;
4
And though war should rise up against me, *
yet will I put my trust in him.
5
One thing have I asked of the LORD;
one thing I seek; *
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days
of my life;
6
To behold the fair beauty of the LORD *
and to seek him in his temple.
7
For in the day of trouble he shall keep me safe
in his shelter; *
he shall hide me in the secrecy of his dwelling
and set me high upon a rock.
8
Even now he lifts up my head *
above my enemies round about me.
9
Therefore I will offer in his dwelling an oblation
with sounds of great gladness; *
I will sing and make music to the LORD.
10
Hearken to my voice, O LORD, when I call; *
have mercy on me and answer me.
11
You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face." *
Your face, LORD, will I seek.
12
Hide not your face from me, *
nor turn away your servant in displeasure.
13
You have been my helper;
cast me not away; *
do not forsake me, O God of my salvation.
14
Though my father and my mother forsake me, *
the LORD will sustain me.
15
Show me your way, O LORD; *
lead me on a level path, because of my enemies.
16
Deliver me not into the hand of my adversaries, *
for false witnesses have risen up against me,
and also those who speak malice.
17
What if I had not believed
that I should see the goodness of the LORD *
in the land of the living!
18
O tarry and await the LORD'S pleasure;
be strong, and he shall comfort your heart; *
wait patiently for the LORD.

Glory to the father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.