1 Lent Year C/March 6, 2022
Deuteronomy 26:1-11; Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16; Luke 4:1-13
Last week I sent out an email to all of you about the start of a new season in the church year…that begins on Ash Wednesday every year…In our Ash Wednesday Service, we are invited to observe a holy lent by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word. We are marked with ashes on our forehead and with these words: Remember that You are dust, and to dust you shall return…
In the email, I also wrote: As with all seasons of the church year, and in all seasons of our earthly life....there are always changes happening, some large...some subtle....but there is no denying that changes, and signs of new creation, are all around us....all the time...
Lent is a season in the church year that calls us to be intentional and mindful of what's going on in our lives, and in the lives of others...It's a season of reflection, looking at changes we might need to be making in our own lives; it's a season that calls us into letting go of unhealthy practices that separate us from the love of God, and those things that get in the way of us loving others; It's a season that invites us to take on new spiritual practices, to grow in our love for God, and for all of our neighbors...near and far...
On the 1st Sunday in Lent, I want to offer another way for you to consider how you might observe a holy lent this year….by exploring ways to allow yourself to go a little deeper…to allow the season and practices of Lent to change you and transform you…
This reflection that I am sharing with you this morning is written by Tricia Gates Brown, a deacon in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon…
Start of her reflection:
Going into the roots: Letting an alternative practice of Lent change you
(By Tricia Gates Brown – Deacon, The Episcopal Diocese of Oregon)
A few years ago, I created a practice that brought Lent to life for me—a new way to commemorate or practice the season. You see, for me, Lenten imagery is strikingly about the darkness and dormancy preceding Easter, like the darkness and dormancy of winter that precedes Spring. A plant goes dormant in wintertime, but it does not die. In fact, the nourishment of winter is essential to its growth. Winter is when roots are strengthened, made ready for the coming vitality. The imagery and symbolism of Lent also points to the tomb, to the time between Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, when something mysterious happens. We don’t know quite what that mystery was, but the lacuna of the tomb prepared the way—the way for Easter, for the Jesus Movement.
So too, in Lent, we go deep into the roots, into a time of mystery and tomb, into nourishment and dormancy. For me, thinking of Lent as a time to focus on ‘sinfulness’ and giving things up as a kind of penance, didn’t resonate like thinking of Lent as a time to delve deep into the roots of a thing. Anticipating Lent, I started to ask: How do I want to go deeper this year? What calls me into a practice of deeper reflection?
The first year, I landed on quantum physics. I wanted to understand it a bit more. I wanted to delve deeper than I previously had into understanding the fundamental workings of the universe. So instead of ‘giving something up’ for Lent, I added something. Every few days I’d listen to an interview, audiobook, or lecture by a quantum physicist. It was a plunge, and it was fascinating. However cursorily, I nourished the roots of my understanding about this area of science; and some of what I learned permanently changed my view of myself, this world, and how the Divine works within it.
Last year for my Lenten practice I landed on music. I wanted to dive more deeply into relating to music, appreciating music in a way that impacted me profoundly. For Lent, I created new playlists and spent time music-listening in a new way—letting music wash over me and work its way in me. From that time on, my relationship to music has changed. I’m more likely to take time to hear music, to let it impact me in a way that’s therapeutic or emotional or spiritual—instead of simply playing music in the background of my life.
This year for Lent I’ll dive more deeply into being with nature. Not being in nature because I’m doing something else, such as taking a walk or praying or soaking in my hot tub. But for Lent, taking a little time—at least a few times a week—to sit in nature and simply be. To let nature work in me deeply, in a new way, to listen to what it might say.
The liturgical world has a long tradition of ‘giving something up’ for Lent in a penitential sort of way—and this can be helpful. If it resonates for you, I recommend it. But this year I encourage you to consider an alternate way of thinking about Lent, especially if this way impacts you more: thinking of Lent as a time to go deep into the roots of a thing. Ask, What do I want to experience more deeply? What might I use this Lenten time to know on a deeper level, so I can be nourished and changed by it?
And then, let it change you. (and transform you)
End of her reflection:
On St Peter’s website, we have a lot of resources for you to choose from to “go deep into the “roots of a thing”, to experience something more deeply this Lenten season…and we have some hard copies of a few resources also (and many of them can be printed off for your use)….topics range from Letting Go, to giving thanks with the United Thank Offering Gratitude journal, to learning more about the Episcopal Migration ministries, or Episcopal Relief & Development, to learning about Vincent Van Gogh and the Beauty of Lent…these are just to name a few….
I hope and pray that you will find something to help you go deeper into the roots of your heart and your lives in this 40 day season of Lent…I pray that you will nourished and transformed in this season in a way that will help you to grow in your love for God, and for all of our neighbors...near and far...
Hymn after the sermon: (H) 150 – Forty days and forty nights
Forty days and forty nights
thou wast fasting in the wild;
forty days and forty nights
tempted, and yet undefiled.
Should not we thy sorrow share
and from worldly joys abstain,
fasting with unceasing prayer,
strong with thee to suffer pain?
Then if Satan on us press,
Jesus, Savior, hear our call!
Victor in the wilderness,
grant we may not faint nor fall!
So shall we have peace divine:
holier gladness ours shall be;
round us, too, shall angels shine,
such as ministered to thee.
Keep, O keep us, Savior dear,
ever constant by thy side;
that with thee we may appear
at the eternal Eastertide.