Lent II

by Anne Peterson

Mark (8:31–38)

Then Jesus began to teach the disciples that the Chosen One must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, Jesus rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Chosen One will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of God with the holy angels.”

Reflection

Not too long after my lovely spouse and I had met, in the middle of a lovely dinner together, he told me that if I ever became debilitated, he would take care of me. I suppose I could have replied, “How sweet and thoughtful of you. I appreciate your deep commitment to me.” But I was upset and burst out, “Why on earth are you ruining this beautiful moment with such a negative, pessimistic idea!”

As one who has never been interested in anticipating future disasters, I totally understand Peter’s distress when Jesus tells his friends that he is going to suffer, be rejected and then killed. Everything’s going so well. Don’t mess up the party which this negative thinking, Jesus! Jesus’ response is strong—“Get behind me, Satan!” But Jesus has the long view, sees the big picture. And Peter is trying to hang onto the way things are in his world as it is right now. Peter’s denial could also be seen as lack of empathy for Jesus as he articulates the challenges that are ahead for him.

It’s not just my personality type that refuses to entertain negative ideas. We see now that various individuals questioned investment guru Bernie Madoff’s perfect track record of investing people’s money with never a loss to report. Others questioned the lending practices of banks bundling bad loans with good ones, of realtors putting families in homes they could not afford, and the general practice of so many individuals living beyond their means. Only now that the bubble has burst do we hear the voices who warned us of what lay ahead.

Peter is not willing to entertain the fact that his beloved friend and mentor Jesus might lose his life—let alone the fact that he himself might die. Hanging on to self preservation above all else is limiting. It is a protective stance, holding out against the fear of potential loss. People who have faced the possibility of death because of a life-threatening accident or disease frequently describe their “new life” as one released from the fear of death. Their appreciation of the world is sweeter, and their desire to do what they have always wanted to do, stronger.

As we read in last week’s gospel for Lent I, Jesus underwent this journey toward a “new life.” In his baptism, he was commissioned for a new focus for this life—and was affirmed in his very being as deeply loved by God. In the wilderness, he wrestled with the temptations we all live with, and emerged stronger and clearer about what only he could do in the world. Jesus moved beyond fear, which made him free to do what he needed to do in the world.

Into this freedom Jesus invites the crowd. “Deny yourself, take up your own cross, and follow me,” he says. If your goal in life is to hang onto your life and its material possessions, then you are not able to live freely, to do great things without fear. Release your ego, come with me, and find your true self in the true life of freedom that awaits you.

Two years ago, having been hit by a car while crossing the street, I was helplessly happy to take my husband up on his offer to care for me. In my dependent state, removed from all prior responsibilities, I had plenty of time to reassess my life. And although my “new life” is sweeter and more focused, I find myself slipping back into that preoccupation with things and tasks that distract me from feeling that I am beloved by God and realizing the true freedom this affords. My goal for my Lenten journey is to reconnect with this freedom in silence, every day, before anything else.

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During the Week

--What is your biggest fear? Ask God to help you deal with it.

--What would you do differently if you were not afraid of anything?

--Imagine a time in your life when you felt deeply loved, affirmed and fully alive. Sit with that feeling, soaking it into the core of your being. Spend a few minutes with the feelings of this memory to before you go to sleep at night and when you wake up in the morning.

Lent I

by James Walker

Mark (1:9–15)

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized in the Jordan River by John. Immediately upon coming out of the water, Jesus saw the heavens opening and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. Then a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Beloved, my Own. On you my favor rests.” And the Spirit immediately drove Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels looked after him. After John’s arrest, Jesus appeared in Galilee proclaiming the Good News of God. “This is the time of fulfillment. The reign of God is at hand! Change your hearts and minds, and believe this Good News!”

Reflection

What rich – if sparse – imagery Mark gives us. The director in me runs a bit wild, thinking of camera angles, lighting, scenery, costumes, special effects, and the all-important casting calls.

This is no subtle tale. Jesus emerges from the deep currents of Jordan River after being baptized by John, the often annoying and not-so-subtle evangelist who incessantly calls us to turn our lives around. The heavens break open with incandescent light, and an enormous – albeit gentle – dove descends upon Jesus, accompanied by the all-embracing voice of God, anointing the Beloved. The Spirit propels Jesus from the water to the desert (no bon voyage party here), where he spends forty days (i.e. a long period of time) with wild beasts, tempted by Satan, ever protected by angels. After this ordeal, Jesus returns to Galilee, preaching the uncomfortable good news that now is the time for change.

It leaves me breathless. Great theater, if only in my mind’s eye, but what does Mark want us to really hear?

As we begin our 40-day Lenten journey once again, I’m drawn to contemplating the wild beasts and temptations of Satan in my own life. While not convinced of the literal presence of a devil figure, I’m absolutely certain of my capacity for evil and of the presence of bleak forces in the world.

Lent is a good time to take inventory and to confess … so here goes: These past few months I’ve been struggling with a certainty of belief that I’ve come to identify as evil self-righteousness. I now confess it, asking for the forgiveness of which I rest assured.

Is it possible to hold my strong beliefs and convictions — fervently and joyfully — while still allowing room for those with different experiences and individual truths? I know the clear answer to be a resounding “Yes!” yet this has been a huge challenge for me recently. It has been extraordinarily difficult for me to truly see shades of gray in my certitude. I feel the internal pull of arrogant thought and belief that implies that others are somehow less evolved on their journey.

Life is mystery, and we see dimly the unfathomable truth that lies before us. My journey this Lent will be contending with those forces in me that seek certitude in the ambiguity of this miraculous life, and I’m deeply grateful for this community of saints and angels, where I pray it is safe hold each of our truths in a magnificent tapestry and to confess our fears and shortcomings.

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During the Week

Write your own screenplay of this lesson in your mind. What scene of the movie is speaking to you this Lent?

What internal forces do you feel ready to confront within yourself in these forty days of Lent? Write about them; pray about them.

Who are the angels in your life, surrounding you with loving encouragement on this journey? Express your gratitude to them.

Ash Wednesday

by Susan Russell

We arrive at Ash Wednesday again – the entry point for yet another 40-day Lenten journey toward Easter.

We will hear again the words as familiar as their outward-and-visible signs etched on our foreheads: “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

On Ash Wednesday, as the liturgical season shifts from Epiphany to Lent, we are called to make a shift, too. During these weeks since Christmas our lessons have focused on the “epiphanies” of those who encountered Jesus along the way and knew somehow, at some point, in some perhaps indescribable way, that they had experienced the holy: experienced what a clergy colleague once called one of the “Ahas!” of God.

And now our focus shifts, as it does every year at this time, from stories about those outward manifestations of God's presence among us to a more interior place as we journey with Jesus on the road we know leads to Golgotha – to the cross – and ultimately, to the resurrection. And so, for Ash Wednesday, here is my annual advice for the journey ahead: Don't give up epiphanies for Lent.

Let us not become so inwardly focused that we forget to notice – to give thanks for – to respond to – those encounters we can and will have with the holy in the next 40 days.

Let us not become so focused on our own “journey with Jesus” that we forget that as long as there are still strangers at the gate, walking humbly with our God is not enough: let us not forget that we are also called to do justice. Let us do an even bolder and more prophetic job of claiming “justice doing” as essential to our identity as Christian people – as Lenten pilgrims.

And let us remember that our call to do justice is rooted deep in the roots of our history as a people of God – in these words of the prophet Isaiah:

"Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?"
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day,
and oppress all your workers.
Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today
will not make your voice heard on high.
Is such the fast that I choose,
a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,
and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?

Will you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD?
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

“Here I am,” our God promises – ready to lead us through whatever wilderness we face: to accompany us wherever the journey goes.

Now IS the acceptable time. And may the God who calls us into this wilderness be with us and bless us on the journey.