We Might Have Forgotten Lent

 Dear Family in Faith,

By all appearances last Sunday, we seemed to forget that it was Lent.  Two Christmases ago, we didn’t assemble our Chrismon tree; one of these years, we ordered Easter lilies, but no one ever saw them.  We’ve all had the struggle of wanting to be normal, of trying to function as we were once accustomed, and in the myriad of ways we’ve been forced to change and adapt means our memory is a little off.  Our staff, individually and collectively didn’t remember or failed to realize we hadn’t prepared our sanctuary with the usual Lenten adornments—our cross and crown of thorn wreaths were missing, and I think we missed updating the bulletin cover.  There were questions about flowers still being in the sanctuary during Lent and lots of people have been asking about Holy Week services, too. 

So, I’ve been wondering since last Sunday—like, “how did we forget about Lent decorations?”  The signs and symbols of our Lenten season?  …But I confess, I know how this can happen since any Lenten season comes with challenges we don’t always want to “welcome.”  Lent can be sobering—with its eye toward Jesus’ death; it’s encouragement to repent, confess our sin, and think about our mortality; its journey following Jesus all the way to the cross, where we’re encouraged not to shut our eyes but even to watch his being tortured and a cruel execution.  That Mardi Gras, or “fat Tuesday” is such a big celebration as the last day before the six weeks of Lent with it’s “giving up” or “going without” as spiritual discipline also indicates we don’t always appreciate the dark or stark nature of the season in relationship to the rest of our lives.  And while many people choose willingly to “give up” things—as signs of their sacrifice or spiritual disciplining—some of those choices are things like coffee, or soda, fasting at mealtimes, or quitting smoking—while good for “improvement of life” or spiritually, can also come with negative consequences that leak out around the edges (people are grumpier without their morning coffee or skipping meals, etc.). 

On Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, one of my colleagues posted: “My first words to Holly today: ‘Good morning, sinner.  Death awaits you’.”  The traditional wording at the imposition of ashes is, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  Yet, all this talk about death, leaves some people feeling dark and dreary.  In fact, another colleague who recently came to our Presbytery in retirement, who spent forty-some years in ministry, never once celebrated Ash Wednesday—he doesn’t believe in it!  Of course, in more liturgical traditions, there are other aspects of worship that change for Lent—not saying or singing any “Alleluias,” singing particularly Lenten hymns often in minor keys, covering all crosses in fabric, even covering over stained glass windows or pictures of Jesus—all meant to be reminders of Jesus’ death.  Sometimes, I think these liturgical traditions end up pushing people away, especially when they might not know the reasons why those observances can be spiritually important.  It’s also why some of us found it disconcerting and disorienting to be missing OUR usual spiritual signs of the season last Sunday, too! 

Not everyone we encounter will know the reasons for our symbols and practices; and while WE find them important, others can experience them differently.  For example, many people love the hymn, “Amazing Grace;” but I’ve met lots of people who refuse to sing it, who even find it “offensive” because they don’t believe that they or anyone else should be called a “wretch.”  The hymn is deeply moving for so many; they are often completely unaware of the pain it is for others. 

We’ve done our best this week to put our sanctuary “back in order” for Lent.  Our hearts and minds might still be a little out of sorts, but the reminders of God’s grace and love are everywhere.  For me, personally, sometimes I like turning Lent on its ear—I prefer seeking the signs of life and hope and grace, knowing that there is a Good Friday, but that Easter is also coming.  Sometimes, I also need some joy to take me toward Easter, too, but that’s usually out of step with our liturgical season that imposes penitence and death as the road to making Easter resurrection even better.  Sometimes, I have to have one foot in joy and life, because the other things in life are too overwhelming.  I confess, I’ve had to try and wear the clothes of being positive and hopeful, wanting to help stave off death with my mother’s recent illness, and for others I know who’ve also been battling disease and setbacks, too.  I know that when death is near, so is resurrection; but I can do without the death for a while.  I know you can’t have resurrection without a death.  And too often, we all just want to avoid death, hoping to prolong our days: rather than using the time God’s given us. 

I also know that the promise of Lent is that death is met by life; that even though we die, we will live.  I believe that all is not lost, that joy comes with the morning, that the rhythm is life, death, and resurrection, and that death loses its sting.  Which is ultimately how we can greet someone with, “Death awaits you.”  Because the life that is coming …is even greater.  “See you” in Church.