Two Kinds of Darkness based on Ephesians 5:8-14 and John 9:1-12 March 26, 2017

"You groped your way through that murk once, but no longer. You’re out in the open now. The bright light of Jesus makes your way plain. So no more stumbling around. Get on with it! The good, the right, the true—these are the actions appropriate for life. Figure out what will please Jesus and then do it. Don’t waste your time on mere busywork, the barren pursuits of darkness. Expose these things for the sham they are. It’s a scandal when people waste their lives on things they must do in the darkness where no one will see. Rip the cover off those frauds and see how attractive they look in the true light of day." (Ephesians 5:8-14 The Message)

John 9:1-12 As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth. The disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"  Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must do the works of the one who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." When he had said this, he spat on the ground, made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam" (which means Sent). So he went, washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, "Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?" Some were saying, "It is he." Others were saying, "No, but it is someone like him." He kept saying, "I am the man." But they kept asking him, "Then how were your eyes opened?"  He answered, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight."

Did you know there are places where you can go to have an ‘experience’ of being blind, without sight, relying on voice only, and assistance of others. In “Learning to Walk in the Dark”, Barbara Brown Taylor recounts her experience, in an evening called “Where the Blind Really Do Lead the Blind” Let me read you a little – (Chapter 5 pp 97-100)

She goes on to talk about people who, through surgical means, are able to recover sight – and find the sensory input so overwhelming that they only feel comfortable if they can shut their eyes and carry on as if they were still blind.

So physical blindness is a critical part of the Gospel text. Maybe. The text tells us the man was blind from birth, and that the Jews believed that the blindness was a result of sin – most likely his parents. The sins of the parents are visited on the children, so to speak. So Jesus says clearly no one sinned, and that’s not how God works. But, he says, God’s work can be revealed through this man. God did not make the man blind, nor did God intend that the man should be blind all his life, and forced to live as a street beggar until Jesus came along and restored his physical sight.

How about reading the text in a different way? How about reading the text as an allegory for human beings? Born into the kind of world we are, where and how we live, what our experiences are as we learn. I remember growing up as a child in Saskatchewan, knowing little if anything about the internment of Ukrainians, Germans,  Japanese-Canadians; nor knowing anything about our First Nations peoples and their history – even though I lived in a town where there was a residential school.  I liken the learning about these things to the dropping of ‘scales of blindness’ from the eyes, about a new way of seeing the world, our history and our place in it. And once our eyes are opened, we can either choose to turn away, or we can go on to grapple with the new understanding, and let it change us.

Was this what the blind man meant? Was he truly healed altogether? Was his blindness psychological rather physical? Did Jesus heal his soul, or just his eyes? Or both? There are more questions than answers in this text. And I want to leave you thinking about these questions.

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians talks about a different darkness.  I use this darkness as the one surrounding churches in this time – what Barbara Taylor describes as the “great cloud of unknowing”. As a minister, my email feed and Facebook feed has been for years filled with  ideas for ‘getting people back to church’. Books and books have been written about being welcoming churches, about making ourselves more interesting, about how to get people in to the church. Out of it all have come some excellent ideas and excellent music.  By and large, however, the ‘let’s make it popular’ movement produced thin theology and even thinner music –and in the end, it hasn’t made a huge difference. Even the massive megachurches are beginning to flounder, the big evangelical congregations struggle.

The line in Ephesians  which leaps out for me is “Figure out what will please Jesus, and then do it.” (and the corollary about not getting tied up in busywork). I suggest the churches which have lived  - and I use that word deliberately – not necessarily grown huge, but ‘lived’,  have clicked into that.  Instead of being bogged down by the weight of trying to stay the same and hoping things will change, or trying out every gimmick there is to catch people’s imagination about ‘church’, they’ve used this as a ‘touchstone’ – figure out what it is that fulfills the message of the Gospel, and what of that we can do in this place, in this community, in this time. Isn’t this a good way to work no matter what the situation? So many churches spend time figuring out what will please themselves without taking lots of effort, at the same time telling themselves it’s ‘focusing on the Gospel’. But is it? Or have they had a spurt of outreach and a sense of mission, and then settled down to do the same things every year. Do we as individuals who claim Christianity use this as our touchstone? Focusing on the teachings of Jesus, the centrality of love. What would all our churches be like if the teachings of Jesus were the measure for everything we do?

John’s Gospel story takes us right there – holding everything up to Love as the measure – inclusive love, with no boundaries – not being afraid to have our eyesight restored.  The man born blind had to go on with his sight, and endless questions – and a completely different life where his honesty would be continually questioned. It isn’t an easy road – but it is a road forward. It is, indeed, a calling out, a calling to go forward, with trust.

“Han” sermon for March 19, 2017 Third Sunday of Lent John 4: 5-26

So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

 “Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?”

 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”  He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

 “I have no husband,” she replied.

Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

 “Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”

“Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem.  You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.  God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”

The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.”

Han is a Korean cultural trait which has many origins. It denotes a collective feeling of oppression and isolation in the face of insurmountable odds, including aspects of lament. The minjung theologian Suh Nam-dong describes han as unresolved resentment against injustices suffered, a sense of helplessness because of the overwhelming odds, a feeling of acute pain in one's body, and an urge to take revenge and to right the wrong—all these combined."

Han is sorrow caused by heavy suffering, injustice or persecution, a dull lingering ache in the soul. It is a blend of lifelong sorrow and resentment, neither more powerful than the other. Han is imbued with resignation, bitter acceptance and a grim determination to wait until wrongs can be righted. It connotes both despair at recognition of past injustice and acceptance of such matters as part of the Korean experience.

In modern times this included surrender to the Japanese, occupation by Japanese, women taken by force to be used as ‘comfort women’ for Japanese soldiers. Koreans living in Japan, even if born there, were until recently required to carry special identification and be fingerprinted. Discrimination in Japan continues, even to those who are second or third generation. Han could be described as the collective ‘dark night of the soul’ of the Korean experience.

Most of the texts we see involving Samaritans are contained in the New Testament scriptures. And there is a reason for this. Samaritans were an ethnic and religious community distinct from other peoples of the Levant; this appears to have occurred after the Assyrian conquest of the Kingdom of Israel in approximately 721 BCE. Jewish tradition affirms the Assyrian deportations and replacement of the previous inhabitants by forced resettlement by other peoples, but claims a different ethnic origin for the Samaritans, involving several different ethnic groups forcibly resettled in the land.

This account is contradicted by the version in Chronicles where, following Samaria's destruction, King Hezekiah endeavours to draw the Ephraimites and Manassites closer to Judah. Temple repairs at the time were financed by money from all "the remnant of Israel" in Samaria, including from Manasseh, Ephraim and Benjamin. Jeremiah speaks of people from Shekhem, Shiloh and Samaria who brought offerings of frankincense and grain to the House of YHWH. There is no mention of Assyrian resettlement.

Yet by the time we find the Samaritans mentioned by Jesus in the texts – Samaritans are considered unclean, for they don’t worship the same way the Jews do, they don’t follow the same purity laws, nor the same forms and rituals of worship. Despite their Israelite heritage, they are considered “less than”. They are always discriminated against by the Jewish people. So they are a people with the same ethnic origins as the Israelites, yet they carry a heavy history as well – displaced, slaves and refugees, yet not included by their own people. They carry centuries of ‘han’ in their experience.

And into this context comes a woman of Samaria – who comes to the well to draw water. Traveling from Jerusalem in the south to Galilee in the north Jesus and his disciples took the quickest route, through Samaria. Tired and thirsty, Jesus sat by Jacob's Well, while his disciples went to the village of Sychar, about a half mile away, to buy food. It was about noon, the hottest part of the day, and a Samaritan woman came to the well at this inconvenient time, to draw water.

In his encounter with the woman at the well, Jesus broke three important Jewish customs: first, he spoke to a woman; second, she was a Samaritan, a group the Jews traditionally despised; and third, he asked her to get him a drink of water, which would have made him ceremonially unclean from using her cup or jar. This shocked the woman at the well. Had the religious leaders seen it, they too would have been shocked. Jesus has just defied all social mores dearest to the Jews.

What’s critical for me in this text is the larger picture, and I’m setting aside John’s agenda of Jesus as the ultimate answer for everyone, noting that John’s Gospel was written a hundred years later. I’m not convinced that’s what is happening here. Perhaps it’s what Jesus is doing, what he is modelling, away of treating others – which is the core of this text.

Jesus is practicing radical inclusivity. The woman represents a whole people who have been shut out, who carry a whole load of ‘han’ with them, from almost the earliest time of their existence as a people. The fact that they share a genetic history doesn’t count, for the Jews. They have become another race, not complete, not human. As a whole people they have lived the ‘dark night of the soul’, and here is Jesus speaking into that darkness, really offering not so much light as life in the midst of oppression.

Barbara Brown Taylor, in the book “Learning to Walk in the Dark” talks about the ‘dark night of the soul’ as it affects large groups of people – and she puts it in the context of communities of faith and the changes happening in today’s world. She says “The old ways of being Christian are not working any more, not even for those who are old themselves. Something in the ways has died – or is dying – truly cause for great sorrow even among those who know the time has come – and yet at the same time something is being born”. Authors Phyllis Tickle and Diana Butler Bass tell us this time is the great church rummage sale which occurs about every five hundred years or so. Every age has its accumulation of stuff, and has to decide what stays and what goes. And it feels like a dark night, with no direction. And we struggle in fear trying to hold on. How do we let go of what we love?

So for those of us who claim to be Christian, seeing the old ways of being gradually die – what message is there for us? My friend George Feenstra wrote this week “Remember the day Jesus and the friends are walking along the way. Come to a well. Jesus sits to rest while the friends go to find food. A Samaritan woman comes by. Jesus engages her in conversation. That conversation opens the woman's inner eye. What she thought was the truth about God is blown away by the truth about God. God is not in some high holy place. God is sitting with her by the well as a human being who crosses boundaries of exclusion to include her in the gracious gift of life which is life indeed. “

God sits here with us – each of us – offering life. So even as it feels as if we are abandoned – we are not. We have the living water of faith, we have each other.  May it be so.

Sources:

1.      Barbara Brown Taylor . Learning to Walk in the Dark, Harper Collins Publishers. 195 Broadway, New York NY 10007. Pp. 140-141

-     George Feenstra, in online discussion, March 17, 2017

2.      https://www.thoughtco.com/woman-at-the-well-700205

3.      https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Han_%28cultural%29

Fear of the Dark Lent 2 Mono Mills United Church

Simon & Garfunkel “Hello Darkness”

When Norio and I go to Portugal each year in May, one of the things we love is being stretched out on a long chair, looking at the skies – day or night depending on the weather. The house is in the country, at the top of a hill so we can see the city of Faro, a plane or two coming in to the airport, and the city of Olhao. If we want we can turn off all the lights in the yard and just BE in the dark.

The word ‘lighthouse’ in Portuguese is ‘farol’ and there is indeed a lighthouse in the city of Faro. Southern Portugal is full of them – there is one in Olhao, twenty kilometres from us. There is one on the western coast in Albufeira, and if the weather is really clear we can see the lighthouse at Vila Real de Santo Antonio – right on the border between Spain and Portugal. So we sit, outside in the dark-but-not-dark, in absolute silence. Even the sounds of the nearby freeway are muffled. The moon rises, and the whole seascape is in front of us.

In the book “Learning to Walk in the Dark”, Barbara Brown Taylor writes:

 “When I first began telling people that I was studying darkness, their reactions all came from the same direction.

“That makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck!” one woman said, rubbing goosebumps that had sprung up on her arms.

“Is it about spiritual warfare?” someone else wanted to know.

“Darkness as in evil, or darkness as in depression?” someone else asked.

Their associations with darkness were so uniformly negative that I thought about sending out a survey to discover how that had happened. How had so many people arrived at the conclusion that darkness was something to be feared, fought, gotten through, or avoided? Was it a Hollywood thing or a Freudian thing, a ghost story thing or a religious thing? Had their parents instilled a fear of darkness in them to keep them safe when they were young, or did they have their own alarming experiences of the dark to fuel their fear? What explained their apparently universal agreement that the best way to deal with any kind of darkness was to turn on a light?”

I tried to think back to my childhood – in northern Saskatchewan in the summer, and I mean the far north – the sun barely goes down – so from about May until the end of September, we lived outside. It was only when the colder weather and snow came, and the sun only came up about six hours a day, that we were inside after dark. I don’t remember being afraid of the dark. I do remember my mother’s stentorian voice echoing through the neighbourhood about the time the street lights came on.

Did you know that there are different kinds of twilight?  First, there’s civil twilight – that’s when the car headlights are legally supposed to come on – how often do we drive down the roads and see cars coming which might not have lights on, or maybe one missing? What do we do?

Nautical twilight – when it’s possible to steer by the stars. Last year, the US Navy began re-instituting the training of sailors in by-the-stars sailing, with sextant, compass, charts. Instrument sailing is OK, but what happens if instruments fail? Sometimes it’s good to know how to do it the old way.

What does the sea look like at night? On the bridge of a ship at night, literally everything is turned off except instrument panels. Dark, heavy thick curtains blank off the whole bridge from the entry doors. Sailors have to be able to navigate in the dark. If the lights on the bridge are turned on, they cannot see *out* of the ship. It needs to be dark to be able to navigate.

When planes come in to the airport, the lights are out, even lights in the flight deck. Only the instrument panels are lit. Bright light from planes can affect the vision of other pilots, other planes. Light can be a distraction, and we don’t see the other things we *need* to see. Sailors and airline pilots need dark to “see”.

Astronomical twilight – which is almost fully night – when even the faintest of stars can be seen. We get a much better sense of our place in the universe in this time – and with the moon and stars, is it really dark?

Without the dark, what would we see? What would we miss? What are we missing now?

 I wondered what it was like living in a place where there are at least two months of darkness in January and February. So I asked some friends….

Rev. Leila Valtonen in Helsinki says “There's 1000 kilometers worth of difference between Helsinki and Lapland, even!  Up there the sun does not appear between the end of November - mid-January. But they say nordic lights and snow give a different kind of lightness... I think for me it makes the change of seasons very emotional indeed: candles and lanterns in the dark and enjoying the outdoors when light is back. Summer nights are very special! Who would want to sleep then!

Yet there are big differences between individuals. Some are diagnosed with depression. Different advice and techniques are given: bright light lamps in the morning. Some people are afraid of the darkness coming, and in Finland of course there's often a long period of greyness and lots of rain before the actual darkness falls in. Snow brings some comfort and joy to many.

Lorna Koskela on the other side of Finland says:

As for congregations ..well not sure of this but 1 Advent Sunday has traditionally been the most popular day to go to church (almost a must) linking Easter to Christmas with the reading of Jesus' triumphant journey into Jerusalem ... I wonder if that is - in part - to get us through the darkest time (Advent begins the six weeks of darkness in northern Finland, and obviously the shortest days before/after winter solstice in the whole nation) -  so another thing to think on is Christmas being placed where it is not so much to take over pagan festivals but more to celebrate the anticipated coming of light to turn back the darkness

Bjorn Broch Johansen, who comes from Tromso in the far north of Norway says “I grew up at 70  degrees north,  even north of Lapland. The sun was completely gone for 2 months, and then stayed up for 2 months straight in the summer. I recognize most of what Leila points out. What's important to know is that this applies to a small minority. Most of the people are not bothered, but rather enjoy what each season has to offer. When this is all you know, it is normal. But seeing the sun pop over the horizon again in late January is always a happy day.

So – what can we say about dark for ourselves?  If we have fear of the dark, how do we cope? And that’s physical dark – but it becomes a metaphor for the darkness of not knowing where we’re going – of feeling lost, of feeling our way along. Did Abram and his entire entourage go with trepidation? Did Abram get an earful more than once from Sarai about not even knowing where they were going? All we’re told is that God came along and said “Go”, and they did. When Jesus and the disciples set out for Jerusalem – did they go with confidence or fear?

Lent is a good time to reflect on unknown journeys. Life itself is an unknown journey, and within that there are times when we have to take chances, step off on what appears to be the best road, maybe the only road, and walk in the dark. So for Lent, we reflect on walking in the dark- remembering that we are walking together.  May it be so.

Sources:

1.      Barbara Brown Taylor . Learning to Walk in the Dark, Harper Collins Publishers. 195 Broadway, New York NY 10007. Pp. 26-27

“Alternatives” a sermon based on Matthew 4:1-11 First Sunday in Lent Mono Mills United Church

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the Adversary.  After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.  The tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’^”

Then the Adversary took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: “‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
 Again, the Adversary took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.  “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”
Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.

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Toad baked some cookies. "These cookies smell very good," said Toad. He ate one. "And they taste even better," he said.

Toad ran to Frog's house. "Frog, Frog," cried Toad, "taste these cookies that I have made."

Frog ate one of the cookies, "These are the best cookies I have ever eaten!" said Frog.

Frog and Toad ate many cookies, one after another. "You know, Toad," said Frog, with his mouth full, "I think we should stop eating. We will soon be sick."

"You are right," said Toad. "Let us eat one last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one last cookie. There were many cookies left in the bowl.

"Frog," said Toad, "let us eat one very last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one very last cookie.

"We must stop eating!" cried Toad as he ate another.

"Yes," said Frog, reaching for a cookie, "we need willpower."

"What is willpower?" asked Toad.

"Willpower is trying hard not to do something you really want to do," said Frog.
"You mean like trying hard not to eat all these cookies?" asked Toad.

"Right," said Frog.

Frog put the cookies in a box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."

"But we can open the box," said Toad.

"That is true," said Frog.

Frog tied some string around the box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."

"But we can cut the string and open the box." said Toad.

"That is true," said Frog. Frog got a ladder. He put the box up on a high shelf.

"There," said Frog. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."

"But we can climb the ladder and take the box down from the shelf and cut the string and open the box," said Toad.

"That is true," said Frog.

Frog climbed the ladder and took the box down from the shelf. He cut the string and opened the box. Frog took the box outside. He shouted in a loud voice. "Hey, birds, here are cookies!" Birds came from everywhere. They picked up all the cookies in their beaks and flew away.

"Now we have no more cookies to eat," said Toad sadly. "Not even one."

"Yes," said Frog, "but we have lots and lots of willpower."

"You may keep it all, Frog," said Toad. "I am going home now to bake a cake."
******************************************************************
It’s always interesting to look at how each of the Gospels treats particular stories. Matthew and Luke tell us of the testing of Jesus; Mark gives it a couple of sentences, and John doesn’t even think it’s worth a mention.

It’s also interesting that in Hebrew, the word Satan means “the opposer” or “the Adversary”. Matthew gives us a whole story; one of the interesting things about *this* version is that the “opposer” is quite literate in understanding of scripture. He knows exactly how to test Jesus, and in this wilderness where there is hunger for many things, knows what things would be hardest to resist. Of course, Jesus - even though he is tired and famished - and not quite all there - knows the answers. He knows how to say “No”.

For me, there are a few key things in this story.
It takes place in “the wilderness”, whatever that means. Is it a literal wilderness - and by that I mean, a desert? Or is it a place where there are no people - probably not hard to find. Or is it a journey inside the self - a place of unknowns, where Jesus really has to face himself, and is tested.

The Spirit led him, so we can assume he went relatively willingly; Matthew implies he was filled with and inspired by, the Holy Spirit.

He didn’t take anything with him other than the clothes on his back. He was there forty days and nights, or almost six weeks. Now, forty is a good Biblical number, so let’s just assume he was in his wilderness for a very long time.

Now, if he literally went into a remote desert place, we can assume he was skinny, filthy, stinky, and pretty darned hungry. It is a fact that when one has gone without food for several days, hallucinations occur – let’s say – alternate reality.

So let’s try to put some of this together a little more. Jesus has been baptised  - a common Jewish custom - and has had a deep spiritual experience. He is inspired by the Spirit to go off by himself, somewhere away from people and food, to spend time with himself in silence. He knows that he has human failings, like everyone else; but he is also trained in the faith of the Israelite people, and after his baptism he is fairly sure he has a call to ministry. The one who opposes him tries everything - offering food, knowing he would be hungry; offering power, recognising his abilities. Jesus is able to say no, despite his hunger and despite recognising that he could have great power if he chose; he also knows what he would have to give up in return.

In the cycle of the Christian year, beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Sunday, Christians have observed the period of “Lent” as a kind of wilderness experience. In some periods in the church, sacrifice and physical punishment of the self took place. In general Lent has not been about “giving up” or “punishing” ourselves. The word Lent itself is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words ‘lencten’, meaning "Spring," and lenctentid, which literally means not only "Springtide" but also was the word for "March," the month in which the majority of Lent falls. Lent is to be forty days, not including Sundays.

Since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of a growing practice of Lenten preparation for Easter. Irenaeus, who died in 203 CE, wrote to Pope Victor I, commenting on the celebration of Easter and the differences between practices in the East and the West: "The dispute is not only about the day, but also about the actual character of the fast. Some think that they ought to fast for one day, some for two, others for still more; some make their 'day' last 40 hours on end. Such variation in the observance did not originate in our own day,  but very much earlier, in the time of our forefathers" meaning the time of the disciples. Pope Leo, who died in 461 CE, preached that the faithful must "fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of the 40 days," again noting the apostolic origins of Lent. The intent was that it was to be a time of prayer and fasting - as Jesus did.

The period of Lent and the emphasis on prayer and fasting is also a reference to the growth of the human soul, as if a plant. Gardeners know that plants have to be pruned, fertilised, mulched and watered. In the growth of the human soul, care has to be taken to ensure that it will grow and become green.

Winter can be seen as a wilderness time. Everything appears to die, and it’s only in the spring when the sun and rains come back, that the growth cycle starts. It may be that in order for our souls to grow, a little time spent with less rather than more, a little time cutting back on something really critical - might just be good for us. I don’t mean something frivolous like not watching one favourite TV show, or giving up cookies and baking cake instead, like Frog and Toad. Or not eating chocolate. I am talking about removing the things which distract us - perhaps we might say the things which oppose the growth of our souls.

Did you know that Judaism, Christianity and Islam are all considered relation religions? The three are called the Abrahamic faiths – Judaism and Islam through the children of Abraham, and we the Christians by conversion. We have Scriptures in common – and we have practices in common. In Islam, we often hear the word “jihad” – the great religious war. But the real meaning of ‘jihad’ is indeed the great war with ourselves…..internal discernment, internal wrestling with the adversary….to win the jihad is to win the war with oneself. We ourselves are the adversary and it’s an internal war, not external.

I look at this forty days of Lent as a gift to us for our wise use. It isn’t just a part of the church year with no meaning. In today’s church we callit discernment – but I think it’s more than that. – and our obsession with concrete modernity we’ve lost our traditions in the church of reflection.   Jesus went into a wilderness - whatever that meant - to learn about himself.  Had he given in to any one of those very real human failings, the growth of his soul would have been stunted.  – and I don’t believe a movement would have begun. He decided, I think, that he did have a ministry – and that he needed to be scrupulous with himself, or his words would mean nothing.

We have a short forty days - just under six weeks - to learn again what is really important in life, and what our lives can be like without all the distractions we stuff into them. We have a chance to weigh all the alternatives. We do it one day at a time. We go, like Jesus, into a place of silence and prayer. We breathe, have a little water, and look hard at what is offered us in life.

The question is, when we get ourselves severed from the distractions, can we stand the silence? Silence can be pretty loud sometimes, can’t it? The question also is, can we stand ourselves when we look in there? What are we like in the wilderness? We have to ask ourselves what devils, what Adversaries are there in our lives, offering what sound like really reasonable alternatives? What Adversaries have our number? Do we really take spiritual time seriously? Or is there so much we just “have” to have in our life, that there is no time for a trip to the wilderness?

Lent today, to me, is a time to recover a tradition of spiritual practice that we have lost. We slow down, find a quiet space, reflect, work to change, and keep going. Amen.

Sources:
1. “Frog and Toad” can be found at http://www.sermonillustrations.com/a-z/t/temptation.htm
Ray & Anne Ortlund, Renewal, Navpress, 1989, p. 73-74.
2. History of Lent, by Rev. William Saunders. Arlington Catholic Herald.