Looking at the Landscape
My soul thirsts for the you, my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.” Psalm 143
How do we honor God’s created earth, the land that provides us sustenance and life? Don Kirby, son of a sharecropper in the northeastern Missouri shares a deep sense of wonder and understanding of the land in his photographs of the Plains in the Mid West. His haunting, alluring images, draw us in, calling us to examine the uses and abuses humanity imposes on the landscape.
Tulips and avocados
It was such a relief when I learned that the word for “perfect” in the old Bible phrase, “Be ye perfect,” means in Greek, “Be fully grown,” like a fruit that ripens over the season. If Jesus had really told people “Be perfect,” as I’d heard the scripture translated when I was a kid, I was in trouble. A God of unconditional love is okay — more than okay. But for years the God of perfection lurked around in the back of my mind, never letting me fully rest.
So sitting in my ancient Greek class, struggling to interpret the words of Matthew in their original language, became an important “Ah-ha” moment for me. If the word we usually translate “perfect” can also mean mature, grown through life’s process beyond the stage of a seed or pod or pupa, then I had hope. I wasn’t supposed to be someone completely different from who I am, with all my glaring imperfections, Jesus hoped I’d be me, not someone else: oranges needn’t strive to be mangoes; an avocado shouldn’t be disappointed if it’s not the ideal tulip. God’s dream for me is to be the one I am, with my set of talents, whatever those are or are not.
But I also notice that the mango doesn’t make itself, or even grow into its full wonderful ripe self on its own. There is the tree, and the sun, and the soil and the rain – all the God stuff. And there are the human helpers all along the way who plant and irrigate and fertilize and prune and harvest. There is a time for orange blossoms, but later those drop away, and the tree’s energy goes in to producing fruit. Can my pride discern when to flower and when to fade?This Lent, can you take time to notice how you’re growing, what you’re becoming, how mature your plant has grown, and with whose help? What do you need to flourish?
Letting Go
Most people I know have the following association with Lent, “What will you give up this year?”
This way of viewing Lent confuses and covers up the very work we are attempting to emulate, Jesus’ temptaion in the desert.
Lent is a season in which we go through a process of preparing for death, confronting our limitations and our mortality, so that we can learn more about God and how God is at work in our lives. We die to ourselves so God can birth us into a new phase of life, and a new kind of living.
The only way to go on that journey is not by giving up something, but through a process of letting go. In her song “Out of Control,” Mindy Smith sings of her deep longing to let go of the things in her life that are causing death, the things “spinning me so out of control.” And she ends with a confession that I can relate to completely, “I don’t want to let go.”
The First Week of Lent–The Scripture
Throughout Lent we will be journeying with the book of Acts, remembering our common story in the Christian Faith, preparing for the renewal of our faith lives on Easter Sunday.
Acts 6:1-7
Now during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists
complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily
distribution of food. And the twelve called together the whole community of the disciples and
said, ‘It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait at tables.
Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the
Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote
ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’ What they said pleased the whole community,
and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, together with Philip,
Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus, a proselyte of Antioch. They had these
men stand before the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.
Walking in Lent
There is a field I walk several times each day, part of a daily practice that grounds me and keeps my soul connected to the created world around me. I walk the same steps, along a path by the edge of a cornfield, sometimes cutting right into the corn field to walk the rows. Through the seasons I have witnessed the field grow in the green and lush days of summer and die in the stripped and barren months of winter. The seasons mark a profound change in the life of the field, but for the day to day observer, a portrait of subtlety and complexity unfolds.
Today the field is still and decayed, rustling with an agitated hum as the wind catches the dried stalks, the few left standing, bent and contorted from harvest days many months ago. The field appears barren, just as I imagine the desert that Jesus retreated into appeared barren. The field is my desert during Lent, the closest to a New England desert when one lives miles from the sand. When I take a moment to stop, and look out over the field, I crouch down to pause and to listen. I see the predictable rows carved out by the farmer who sowed the field. The undulating terrain holds my attention; the vastness of the field expands as I look from one ragged stalk to the other like a soldier reviewing the ranks of those left barely standing. Crouching I am consumed by those things that have died, and are decomposing around me. The surface of the field is harsh, crusted and craggy. However, if I shift my gaze up I am enveloped by the openness of sky and the expansive space above me. If I look down close to the earth, I get a glimpse of life giving earth pushing up through the straw from the frost heaves at my feet. Hidden beneath is the rich soil awaiting new seeds. A is merely a shift in posture and stance that calls me to change all that I perceive in the field.
“There is no substitute for earthiness” writes Barbara Brown Taylor in An Altar in the World, “from dust we came and to dust we shall return.”
Dust to Dust
Mitchell was a Catholic boy; I knew it by the smear of ash on his forehead. I’d been taught that I was better than those Catholics, so I dismissed the power of the ashes, and so missed the strength that comes when finitude is confessed, and forgiveness sought.
Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
Mitchell has been dust for a long time now, killed in Cambodia, fighting a war that we still don’t know what to do with. He was finite, after all.
And me, well, I’m older than I’ve ever been, and finite as can be. I don’t know whether Mitchell died for me or not, and some days all I know for sure is that I’m not any better than those Catholics, or those Jews, or those Muslims or any of those other “thoses.”
Tonight, I’ll wear the ashes myself. Humbled a bit, and bruised, keenly aware of my need to be forgiven. And so I’ll pray for Mitchell, and for my old dead self, the one who was sure he was better than those others. And I’ll taste again the freedom that Jesus brings, and I’ll be grateful for a bit of common wisdom.
Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
Lent Begins
Today marks the beginning of the season of Lent. Now many of you, may be wondering what exactly is Lent? Well, it’s the 40 days (not counting Sundays) that provide us with the opportunity to prepare for the blessing of Easter. These next weeks are not just for consuming Peeps or Cadbury CreamEggs (although they are awesome) or to giving up sugar in hopes of losing a few pounds. Lent is a time that is set aside for deeper reflection, Scripture reading, prayer and discipline.
When I think of these practices, I often think of the life of monks. And, a common phrase heard among monks during this season of Lent is “momento mori” or “remember your mortality.”
It sounds depressing and even a bit frightening – a morbid reminder of our inevitable death – but for the monks and for us, this idea has the potential to be freeing.
We begin Lent with a very real reminder of our mortality: ashes. These ashes aren’t meant to scare us or depress us, but instead serve as a reminder of God’s great love for us. God knows death and has conquered it. Only through God, we can find the gift of immortal life and be freed from the fear of death. We can learn to have greater gratitude and at the same time, let go of the illusion that we can control all aspects of life and death. Our ashes are a sign of our freedom.
How will you embrace this season of Lent? Will you make time to go deeper? How will you practice letting go of fear and control in order to remember your freedom?
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If you are interested in attending an Ash Wednesday service, you are welcome to come to Hancock United Church of Christ (1912 Mass Ave, Lexington) at 7 p.m. in the Kathie Stuart Room.
Come Celebrate Mardi Gras!
In the lead up to Lent, come celebrate Mardi Gras with us at Hancock! Tomorrow, Saturday February 11! The party will start at 5 PM with a potluck dinner and activities for young children. This will be followed by a variety show featuring the varied talents of the HancockChurch Community. Everyone is invited to both bring something tasty to contribute to the dinner AND to develop an “act” for the show. Please save the date and come talk to a member of the Music & Arts committee at coffee hour today about signing up your act for the variety show.
Fun, food, celebration…what’s not to love? See you there!
