Lent 1 Sermon - "A Holy Lent"

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

1^st Lent – Sermon – 13 March 2011

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA

In the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia

Today we pray that we might lead a holy Lent.  A holy Lent.  Holy.  Lent.  On Wednesday, I preached about the sense that holiness has to do with being whole; that to live in a whole way, we must consider our sinfulness, but also consider our blessedness.

All too often, the church has been a reminder of our sinfulness, of the ways that we don’t live up to God’s gift, of the ways that we fall down, and the church has all too often only been a source of reminding us of this sinfulness.  All too often, I find myself encountering people who are in some sense “recovering” Christians – be they Episcopalians, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Presbyterians or whatever room of the great mansion they may come from.  They are, in some senses “recovering” from the baggage laid on them.

Speaking of sin is important, because it can help us to really live in such a way that we know that we can’t “do it” all on our own.  As Paul said, he “sees the good, but can’t do it.”  We may know in our hearts and minds what it might mean to live well and good and lovingly and morally, but sometimes, we just can’t quite make it happen.  Speaking of sin is important for the Church because it is a helpful antidote to arrogance and narcissism.  Speaking of sin is important, in order to help us to focus more on God and our neighbor than on our self.

Speaking of sin, however, can’t be all that the church does.  In order to help people live holy lives, in order to help people to live whole lives, we also need to constantly remind ourselves of our blessedness.  Surely the poor in Spirit need no reminders

that they are sinful, and that they “are dust and to dust they shall return.”  No, the poor in Spirit need to be reminded, and reformatted as the blessed.  Surely those who are persecuted for righteousness sake need no reminder that they are to be humble, or that they are sinful.  No, they need reminders that they are blessed, that they are children of God, despite the fact of their earthly persecution, despite their suffering.

And we too, need to be reminded of our blessing.  We too, need to be reformatted and recast, and transformed into the children of God.  To live holy lives, and to live whole lives we need both the reminder of our failings, and the reminder that we are blessed.  It is the sense that we may tell a coworker, or a student, or a friend when they have had a failure, “you are better than this.”  Being told, “you are better than this,” means that 1) yes you messed up – and there may be consequences, and you may need to pay the piper, however, 2) it also means that the promise is there for you to do much better. 

And so we are called to live a holy Lent.  I might retranslate it that we should live a “whole” Lent.  What is keeping us from living whole lives?  What is standing in the way of our reception of the blessings that God has given us?  What is keeping us from fully embracing our status as blessed children of God?  Is it even our focus upon our weaknesses and sins that stand in our way? 

As we consider entering into Lent, it is common to “give something up” such as chocolate, or alcohol, or television, or grumbling, or fried food.  Or, it is also common to “take something on” such as a reading project, or prayer or an exercise regimen.  I wonder whether these actions and these strivings bring us to greater wholeness.  I wonder whether these actions and strivings bring us to greater holiness.  Does giving up chocolate bring us closer to God and to our neighbor, or does it merely make us self-righteous and crabby.  If it does, I say eat your bon bons and be kind to your neighbor.

Does giving up television bring us to greater depth of prayer and connection with Jesus and open our hearts to a world in need, or does it merely mean we are acting “holier than thou” when Major League Baseball begins in earnest.  If it does, I say watch your television but spend some time in prayer.

Wholeness and holiness.  I pray that we might live a whole Lent, remembering our sinfulness, the sense that we are dust and to dust we shall return but also remembering that the dust we are made of is also stardust – stardust!  We are made of the same stuff as the stars.  We are dust, and yet we are also children of God, held, caressed, and blessed as his beloved babes, always.  Can we live in the place between?  Can we live in the midst of the tension between sinfulness and blessedness while we know that we are sinful, and yet we are also forgiven and blessed? Yes.  This is what it might mean to live a holy Lent, a whole Lent, embracing both our dustiness and our childlikeness.

“I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church,
to the observance of a holy Lent,
by self-examination and repentance;
by prayer, fasting, and self-denial;
and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”

-Book of Common Prayer, p.265

On Fasting, by Richard Rohr

In Isaiah 58:1-9a, Isaiah explicitly says that God prefers a kind of fasting which changes our actual lifestyle and not just punishes our body.  (The poor body is always the available scapegoat to avoid touching our purse, our calendar, or our prejudices.)  Isaiah makes a very upfront demand for social justice, non-aggression, taking our feet off the necks of the oppressed, sharing our bread with the hungry, clothing the naked, sheltering the homeless, letting go of our sense of entitlement, and not speaking maliciously.  He says very clearly this is the real fast God wants! In Matthew 9:14-15, Jesus is asked why he and his disciples do not fast.  In effect, he says “because it is the wrong kind of fasting!”  Then he introduces a favorite theme and metaphor that he gradually develops:  life as a wedding banquet, with himself as the bridegroom and humanity as the bride.  It will soon become clear that Jesus is not interested in an elite who do their rituals properly yet refuse to join in the wedding feast that God is preparing for all, both insiders and outsiders. Richard Rohr, from Wondrous Encounters: Scripture for Lent, pp. 18-19

Lent, by George Herbert

Lent

Welcome deare feast of Lent: who loves not thee,

He loves not Temperance, or Authoritie,

But is compos’d of passion.

The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church sayes, now:

Give to thy Mother, what thou wouldst allow

To ev’ry Corporation.

The humble soul compos’d of love and fear

Begins at home, and layes the burden there,

When doctrines disagree.

He sayes, in things which use hath justly got,

I am a scandall to the Church, and not

The Church is so to me.

True Christians should be glad of an occasion

To use their temperance, seeking no evasion,

When good is seasonable;

Unlesse Authoritie, which should increase

The obligation in us, make it lesse,

And Power it self disable.

Besides the cleannesse of sweet abstinence,

Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense,

A face not fearing light:

Whereas in fulnesse there are sluttish1 fumes,

Sowre exhalations, and dishonest rheumes,2

Revenging the delight.

Then those same pendant profits, which the spring

And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing,

And goodnesse of the deed.

Neither ought other mens abuse of Lent

Spoil the good use; lest by that argument

We forfeit all our Creed.

It ‘s true, we cannot reach Christ’s fortieth day;

Yet to go part of that religious way,

Is better than to rest:

We cannot reach our Savior’s purity;

Yet are bid, Be holy ev’n as he.

In both let’s do our best.

Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone,

Is much more sure to meet with him, than one

That travelleth by-ways:

Perhaps my God, though he be far before,

May turn, and take me by the hand, and more

May strengthen my decays.

Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast

By starving sin and taking such repast

As may our faults control:

That ev’ry man may revel at his door,

Not in his parlor; banqueting the poor,

And among those his soul.

~George Herbert

Ash Wednesday Sermon - 9 March 2011 - Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Ash Wednesday Sermon

9 March 2011 – Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA

In the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia

Sin is a word that brings up a lot of emotion, a lot of baggage.

For some of us, the experience of church over the years has involved weekly reminders of our own sinfulness, our own wretchedness, our own little-ness.  We have been reminded of the many ways that we are not worthy.  We have been reminded all too often of the mistakes that we have made.  We have been reminded of the ways that even though we see the good, we cannot seem to be good. 

So, for many of us the word Sin brings up the ways that the church, and preachers and Sunday school teachers have been a reminder of our little-ness, of our mistakes, of our wretchedness.  Often, what emerges from this kind of teaching on Sin is that people are triggered into feeling guilty, guilty for “things done and left undone,” and just guilty in general.

As a priest, I come into contact with many people who “used to” go to church.  People who see me in the grocery store or at my kids’ schools or about town who express how guilty they feel that they haven’t been coming to church more often.  It can be strange to encounter these deep feelings of guilt.  I tell them that I don’t really care about that, that we’d love to see you, but that guilt shouldn’t be wasted on a thing so small as that.  I tell them that if the reason they are coming to church is because they feel guilty about it, I’d rather they didn’t come.

You see, I am one of them.  In college, I rarely went to church.  Sometimes I went to the interfaith service at the chapel, but there was no Eucharist, and it somehow felt too different than my own church.  I went a few times to the Episcopal Church in town, but for whatever reason it did not become a habit.  Other times I went to the Folk Mass offered by the Newman Center, but the Roman Catholic tradition did not feel like home.  However, one Tuesday afternoon, I decided that I would go up to the Eucharist that was being offered in a Lounge in the Student Center.  Along with my friend Adam, I walked up to the Lounge where an older man was sitting at a circular table in a brown jacket, with a Bible and a few Books of Common Prayer on the table.

He welcomed us, and asked if we should begin.  We looked at each other a bit puzzlingly, was this everyone?  The priest asked if one of us wanted to read the Old Testament lesson and the other to read the Epistle.  He said we’d do the sermon together.

He reached down into his bag and brought out a pottery chalice and plate, a small bottle of wine and a container of bread.  And we began.

We moved our way through the beginning of the service, and when we got to the sermon, he asked us about ourselves.  Adam and I introduced ourselves and told him where we were from, both in terms of our hometown (we were both from Middlebury, Vermont) and in terms of our own spiritual journeys.

I found myself saying that I felt so bad for not coming to church more while in college.  I felt guilty for not coming to church.

It was at this point that the priest, named Bill, said,  “You know, guilt is something that should not be wasted on whether or not you’re going to church.  Actually, if the reason that you are going to church is that you are motivated by guilt, I would rather you didn’t go to church.”

And so, there it is.  We have been given the message by the church that we are sinners but then all too often we have not been given the other side of the coin.  We have not been offered the other side of the pillow, the cool and sustaining grace of God.

And so, today, we begin the season of Lent, and there are those who are motivated by guilt to “give something up,” to try to fast, to give up chocolate, or Facebook, or grumbling or alcohol.  And others “take something on,” perhaps a new prayer regimen or reading the scriptures.  These are good and worthy things to do.  However, what is the motivation?  There needs to be an intention that is deeper and richer than guilt.  There needs to be an intention that is not merely based on the assumption that we are sinners.

Keeping a holy lent, then, would include keeping a whole lent.  Wholeness, holistic.  Considering both the sinner that I am, and also the grace-filled child of God that I am.  On one side, we can affirm that “we are dust, and to dust we shall return,” but on the other side is the notion that we are each made in the image and likeness of God, and are blessed and given the gift of God’s love.

There is a Hasidic Jewish story that recounts a master who recommended having two cards in your pockets.  On one card it would say, “you are but dust,” and on the other side it says, “the universe was made for you!”  Both are true, there is no dichotomy here, there is not inconsistency.  We are but dust, and the universe was made for us.  God does not want us to wallow in a sense of our sinfulness that makes us lesser beings, God does not want us to be so “lowered” that we are not human, that we are bound up by guilt or fear.  But God also does not want us to think that the world is really all about us.  God does not want us to be self-centered narcissists.  God wants us to be whole, whole children of God who recognize our sinfulness and our blessedness.

You are but dust, and the universe was made for you.

Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot

Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

III

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jagged, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only.

IV

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

V

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

Archbishop of Canterbury Lent Books

If you were looking for a book to read in Lent, why not go to the Archbishop of Canterbury and see what the occupant of that office has recommended over the last several years?  This year, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury has made "Barefoot Disciple:  Walking the Way of Passionate Humility," by Stephen Cherry his "Lent Book of 2011."  I have thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, and am now working my way through sections of it for a second time.  


One of the central questions of the book is whether we can develop our humility?  There is an implicit problem with the idea of developing one's humility, which is, as soon as we might recognize, "hey I'm building up my humility, I am doing a great job," we actually are probably not embodying humility as much as before.  We can fall into the trap of being proud about our humility...


Stephen Cherry works the reader through this potential pitfall, and also develops his concept of the "Barefoot disciple" who embraces what he calls "passionate humility."  


It is a wonderful book, and I highly recommend it.  Also, below are several of the Archbishop of Canterbury Lent books from the last several years.  I have read several of them, and highly recommend them.


Praying that we may keep a holy Lent,


Peace and Blessings,


~The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Archbishop of Canterbury's Lent Books

1983 The Truce of God by Rowan Williams

1988 Looking Before and After by Helen Oppenheimer

1992 Tested by the Cross - Wesley Carr

1993 Mary's Story, Mary's Song by Elaine Storkey

1997 Pilgrims by Stephen Platten

1998 The Shape of Living by David Ford

1999 Living Well by Robert Warren

2001 Christ on Trial by Rowan Williams

2002 The Meaning in the Miracles by Jeffrey John

2004  I Thirst by Stephen Cottrell

2005 Other Temptations of Jesus by John Henson

2006 Free of Charge by Miroslav Volf

2007 Power and Passion by Sam Wells

2009 Why go to church? by Timothy Radcliffe

2010 Our Sound is Our Wound: Contemplative Listening to a Noisy World by Lucy Winkett

A holy Lent, a whole Lent?

We pray that we might lead a holy Lent.  A holy Lent.  Holy.  Lent.  Holiness has to do with being whole; that to live in a whole way, we must consider our sinfulness, but also consider our blessedness.

All too often, the church has been a reminder of our sinfulness, of the ways that we don’t live up to God’s gift, of the ways that we fall down, and the church has all too often only been a source of reminding us of this sinfulness.  All too often, I find myself encountering people who are in some sense “recovering” Christians – be they Episcopalians, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Presbyterians or whatever room of the great mansion they may come from.  They are, in some senses “recovering” from the baggage laid on them, and perhaps also, I am sorry to say, abuse. 

Speaking of sin is important, because it can help us to really live in such a way that we know that we can’t “do it” all on our own.  As Paul said, he “sees the good, but can’t do it.”  We may know in our hearts and minds what it might mean to live well and good and lovingly and morally, but sometimes, we just can’t quite make it happen.  Speaking of sin is important for the Church because it is a helpful antedote to arrogance and narcissism.  Speaking of sin is important, in order to help us to focus more on God and our neighbor than on our self.

Speaking of sin, however, can’t be all that the church does. . .  we also need to remember that we are blessed!