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?

—

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.

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!

Sorry for the delay!  We’re hard at work preparing the Hancock Blog for Lent.  See you soon.

Carry the Light.

And may you carry that light with you wherever you go.

This Christmas news is the very best news we have to share with one another.  In the mystery of pain and suffering, death and dying, anguish and grief, amid so many terrifying aspects of our existence for which we have no answers –  when life tumbles in, when there is no reason to be found for what happened, when the way is not plain,  when the journey is in the dark and the chill, we can dare to say to one another: “God be with you.”  And God is.  God is with us.  Through thick and thin, God chooses to be with us.

 This is the simple Christmas message. God is with us, at the raw heart of human life – bearing our burdens, sharing our sorrows, entering our suffering, laughing with us, crying with us – God chooses to be with the likes of us.

- modified from Rev. Henry K. Yordon

The Jews down in Beth’lem liked children a LOT,

But King Herod up in his palace did NOT.

He hated their laughter—their cute button noses

He hated the way their cheeks bloomed like roses

Because even tho Herod was the richest around,

He was never happy—he always had a frown.

“How dare they be happy!

They have nothing you see

Yet they laugh and they play

And sing “Tum-Tittle-Tee,”

I am rich and I’m strong, and good-looking to boot,

I have all the smarts and I have all the loot

But you don’t see me laughing and carrying on

Just what do they know that I don’t? Now come on! 

I want to be happy, too! I just don’t know how.”

And he sat and he thought and he fussed and he growled.

Then he got an idea!

An awful idea!

THE KING

GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

If children could make even poor people happy, 

Then perhaps they could turn even him slightly sappy

He was the King, after all, and deserved to be glad

After so many years of feeling quite mad.

So he put on his fine clothes

And hitched up his fine horse

And went to borrow some children,

By choice or by force. 

He went up to each house where he saw signs of toys

And he looked all around for the girls and the boys

The first house that he came to was small and secure

With a little girl playing in front of the door.

It was, of course, you know her:  Little Cindy Lou Hebrew!

She opened her mouth and she said, “Who are you?”

“Why, I am the King!

And I’ve come to this end:

I’ll give anything

If you’ll just be my friend.

If you please—come with me and we’ll swim in the lake

And I’ll give you some tea, and we’ll play and eat cake.”

Little Cindy Lou was so young and so sweet

And the man looked so sad that she got to her feet

She followed him out to his coach and got in

She thought to ignore him would be a great sin.

And so it was with every child in town.

With Benjamin, Daniel and Mordecai Brown.

They all followed the King who looked so darn sad

Because they thought maybe—just maybe—THEY could make him turn glad.

The Grinchy King brought them back to the palace, you see

And showed them all into his huge treasury

“Play!” he said, “Play! Here’s a gold bar for you

And a chest full of rubies and emeralds too.”

“And for you, Dan! Your favorite! A thing-a-ma-jing!

It’s made out of silver, with platinum rings!

But Dan was confused

And Cindy was frightened

This was not why they’d come

now they were more enlightened!

He would not let them go! He would keep them forever!

He would use them to further his ghastly endeavor.

They would not see their parents, again, not at all.

And finally the tears began to fall.

The King tried to give them his jewelry and treasure

He had the maids bring every rich dazzling pleasure

Like truffles and cake and pate de fois gras!

He wheedled and pleaded until he was raw.

But the children sitting in the treasury just cried

They cried cried cried cried

They all missed their families

Who must have thought that they’d died.

And the King grew more angry than ever, and scared,

And locking the door firm behind him, he dared

To let out a bellow at his failure by lying

To get what the poor had without even trying.

When the good folks of Bethlehem caught wind of the hassle

They took all that they owned and set off for the castle

They stormed up to the gates and cried out for their tots,

“Let our children go free! You can have all we’ve got!”

They piled their puny things high on the gates

They piled up jewelry, and candles, and plates,

They gave it as ransom for the little lost ones

Who were their great treasure:  when all’s said and done.

The King listened to the crying within and the crying without

He was scared and confused, too, but said with a shout,

“Silence! I am the King! Will you grudge me my pleasure?

I just want to be happy, and have what YOU treasure!”

But the crying within and without did not stop

And he sat himself down with a big tired PLOP!

To himself he said, “I know that kids are the thing,

Because I’ve seen them so often to giggle and sing.

Perhaps I just haven’t yet found the right one,”

And he swore to find every babe under the sun.

And the King was quite right

there was one overlooked

a little baby boy

whom everyone had forsook.

His name was Christ Jesus

He’d been born just that day

In a stable with cows

in a manger of hay/to Maria and Jose.

So the King sent out scouts to all parts of the land

And before much time passed, the last one was in hand.

Including our Jesus, who was found in the stable,

with Mary and Joseph, the heroes of fable.

The scouts had told Herod of this one, “He’s different—he’s holy.”

“He’s more than a sweet little babe roly-poly.”

And if this weren’t enough of the King’s depraved folly,

He said, “I’ll see this one mySELF, by gum-golly.”

And so he went down to the dark little stable

To look for the one who was still in the cradle.

Mary said to the great King, “I know why you’re here.

To see if this child can cast out your fear.

You think that you’re right, but believe me, you’re wrong.

You’re ordering delight and sequestering song.

To steal others’ children is not a good living.

The secret to your sadness is taking, not giving.

“You think this child will be your greatest possession?

He’ll never make you happy in your misguided obsession.

“But here, take the child, only on one condition:

That you stop all this nonsense and give the folks what they’re wishin’.

Give them back their children, the source of their joy,

Only then can you have our sweet baby boy.

“For I love him more than life itself,

even though he just came this morn,

But I know I must sacrifice him—

For that reason he was born.”

The King took the baby and went to the castle

Laid him on a bed of gold with silver tassels

And then went downstairs and unlocked the treasury

“Kids,” he said, “You are—every one—free.”

They raced to their mothers, they rushed to their fathers

They gave their grandparents big wet runny kisses

They walked back to town and told the whole story

And everyone hugged everyone, the lads and the misses.

But the King climbed the steps to the room with great doubt,

Something still wasn’t right—some part left itself out.

He had what he’d asked, but was no happier than before.

He’d won the short battle but lost the whole war.

Then he glanced down at Jesus

And his baby look seemed to say

“It’s in giving you receive,

That is the True Way.”

And suddenly in the darkness there came a great light

And the King understood what he hadn’t all night.

Then the King hitched up his horse

And went back to the town

Taking with him the child

of global renown.

He found Mary and Joseph still at the stable

Packing their things as best they were able.

They moved in a dream, as if not quite real,

Until hearing the baby, who let out a squeal.

Mary rushed to see Jesus, and Joseph did too,

And they were one big hug, stuck together like glue.

The King said with candor, “I see what you mean

about giving and taking and being so mean.

It’s not about being rich or about even winning

So I want to give back

what was yours from the beginning.

“I wonder,” he asked, with some awe in his tone,

“It’s just that I’m sick of always being alone.

Could I, if it wouldn’t be much of a bother—

do you think that I might become Jesus’ Godfather?”

Then Mary replied, “Well, there’s a problem, you see,

He already has one:  the Lord Almighty!”

“But you can be his First Uncle!” she smiled and added.

And from that day on, he was gladder and gladded.

And so the King learned what others knew right from the start:

It’s in losing you find, and what he found was:  HIS HEART.

Benediction:

And now one last word before we part:

May you lose your selves and find your hearts.

For this is the crux of the Christmas fable

Now go and repeat it, as best you are able.