This Lent, I added to my morning reading time a chapter from the book For such a Time as This: An Emergency Devotional by Hanna Reichel. My routine has become 1) Read a poem (this month from Still by Laura Martin, a modern poet and pastor I “met” on Facebook) 2) Read the headlines of the Democrat and Chronicle (I sometimes read the stories; more often I appreciate the articles in the Rochester Beacon) 3) Read the headlines and some stories in the New York Times. I don’t watch videos of violence, I don’t read endless political commentary, I scrounge the news for good news, people doing the right thing, people resisting authoritarianism, people demanding justice. 4) Read a chapter of For Such a Time as This. With titles such as “Obey God more than Humans” and “Find Power in Weakness,” it is a welcome antidote to feelings of helplessness.
Even though Lenten Sunday celebrations are not as somber as the weekdays, you may have noticed a difference from other Sundays of the year. The color is purple, in some places, an unbleached linen. There are no flowers on the altar, though perhaps bare branches or pussy willows remind you of the season. Extra art and symbols are removed from the space, perhaps even veiled, in order that we might direct our attention inward. And the worship service begins with the Rite of Penitence, a recitation of the Ten Commandments, the Greatest Commandment, and a Confession. Instead of needing to hear scripture and a sermon to lead us to self-examination, our Lenten discipline, a week of Lenten living, means we are ready for confession right when we walk in the doors! For me, it is the daily wrestling with the news that makes me eager to get on my knees.
“We repent of the evil that enslaved us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.”
This line from a Sunday morning confession[1] speaks to me this Lent. I cannot bear the guilt and responsibility of sin alone; I am grateful the Church calls us to confess our own sins and the sins of humanity in community so that we can share in the burden and in the work of change.
On Thursday, March 12, I sat in a synagogue meeting room with dozens of religious leaders from several faith traditions, meeting with Representative Joe Morelle, sharing our grave concerns for our immigrant communities. Later that day, we learned that a similar synagogue in Bloomfield, Michigan, was attacked. Like Temple Israel, the synagogue I sat in contains a school for children. Like that synagogue, our local synagogues must employ security guards, and the large boulders surrounding their grounds are not landscaping choices. Most of our Episcopal churches do not need, and could not afford, such security measures. People of faith, children attending school, and anyone going about their daily life should have their freedom without fear, whoever they are and wherever they live.
[1] Enriching Our Worship 1
The Fourth Sunday in Lent is also called Laetare Sunday, from the Latin word “praise,” the first word of the mass. Some churches mark this by changing from deep purple to a deep rose color, lightening the long burden of Lent. We hear and sing the words of the twenty-third Psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want… yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” We need Laetare every Lent; in the midst of depravity and fear, we must still praise God. When we praise God, we are reminded that God is in charge, that no human sin, evil, or power ever triumphs over the power of God.
As we enter into Holy Week and walk the way of the cross, let us bring our whole selves and the weight of the world with us on that journey. As we tell the story of the crucifixion, we can see ourselves in the disciples who love Jesus but fail him in his last hours. We can hear the voices of those who cheer for war and deportation as we shout, “Crucify him!” We can weep with families returning to homes destroyed by war, as the women of Jerusalem weep for Jesus. We can chill at the words of judges whose decisions change lives as we listen to the words of Pilate. We can remember all who have sacrificed themselves for good as we hear Jesus say, “Forgive them.” We can weep with those receiving the bodies of loved ones killed in war as we watch Mary receive the body of Jesus from the cross.
May this Lent strengthen us for the journey, open us to the needs of this world, and buoy our hope, that our praise may lighten burdens and energize our work to bring the power of God’s love and forgiveness to a world yearning to be free.
