Lent 1, 21^st February 2010 – ‘Living Lent’

Reading: Luke 4: 1-13

“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where … he was tempted by the devil.”

Happy Lent! There’s something a bit subversive in saying that. It feels a bit like saying ‘have a nice flu’ or ‘enjoy your trip to the dentist’. Happiness and Lent just don’t seem to go together, although I don’t believe it’s as much of an oxymoron as it might sound.

Preacher teachers will tell you there are two choices when you approach any given sermon; you can either preach on the texts or preach on the day. Usually, it’s fair to say, I and most others choose to preach on the texts – we take the readings for the day and choose one or more of them and in our sermons try sometimes more and sometimes less successfully to draw some meaning from them. This morning though, while I’ll touch on at least one of our readings, I want to preach on the day. I want to offer a kind of introduction to Lent and some thoughts on both living in it and, more importantly, living Lent as we set out on this journey once again.

And this is a journey, and it’s the journey itself which is the true focus of the season, more than just the way in which we travel. The true purpose of Lent is not discipline for discipline’s sake, although the discipline is an important part of it. The true purpose of Lent is to shape and focus us for and on the journey to Jerusalem, which is, of course, in the first instance a journey to death.

It’s in that journey, or at least that first part of the journey, that we find Lent’s origins. Initially this period was the last formal part of the preparation time for those who were to be baptised at Easter. Having gone through between six and twelve months of instruction and testing, these catechumens now spent around six weeks in special prayer and fasting, focused on readying themselves for the end of their life up to this point, which is one of those aspects of baptism that we don’t talk about much these days.

The early baptismal pools were shaped like coffins for this very reason – if you want to see a modern example go to Sacred Heart Church in Hastings. As we move into the water we die to ourselves – the old things have passed away – and we emerge a new person with a new life, a life in and dedicated to Christ. What we now call Lent was, in the beginning, all about preparing for that moment.

Now isn’t the time for a detailed explanation of the rise and fall of early Christian baptismal theology, although that is a particular interest of mine that I will happily bore you to tears about at some point if you wish. For now lets just note that over time these six weeks shifted from the catechumens to the Christian community in general and became a more generic preparation period for Easter, eventually taking on the name ‘Lent’ which in old English simply means ‘spring’ and describes the time of the year the season falls in if you live in the northern hemisphere. Here endeth the history lesson.

What surprised me a bit last week was the amount of attention Lent received on radio and television and in the internet. I honestly hadn’t expected to hear conversations about Ash Wednesday and Lenten fasting on the breakfast news shows, and I have to say its heartening to know that these things haven’t been forgotten entirely, but I do have to say that pretty much all the conversations I heard were focused on the many and varied traditions attached to Lent, all of which are in one way or another about self-discipline.

I’ve spoken before, and those who were at Oenone’s commissioning service last week would have heard the bishop speak, about giving things up for Lent or, as both he and I prefer, taking things on for Lent. It’s something I really want to encourage, doing something extra, something over and above what you would normally do, as a special discipline for the Lenten season. I’m not going to proscribe what that should be, that would defeat the point because this is really about doing it of your own volition, but one suggestion I might make if you’ve got the time is you might commit to coming to morning prayer here at St Luke’s at 8.30am every Tuesday through to Friday. Whatever it is we do though, let’s keep constantly in mind why we do it.

While I was happy to hear all the talk about Lent I couldn’t help but feel that the various disciplines associated with it were obscuring the real focus of the season. Always and constantly we must recall that we don’t give things up or take things up just for the discipline of it, rather the discipline is an aid to help us focus on the road this season challenges us to travel. We do these things to prepare for Easter, but more than just preparation, Lent is there to help us recognise the context that makes Easter both inevitable and essential. Lent invites us to explore the hard places in our lives and faith, and our Lenten readings take us to the hard edges of the gospel, including today’s journey into the wilderness.

It’s important to note that we begin not in the wilderness, but God. “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness”. Jesus has just been baptised by John, now, filled with and led by the Spirit that has descended upon him at baptism, he goes into the wilderness.

From the very start our Lenten journey is initiated by and travelled with God. Ash Wednesday focuses us on the Lenten trail with those words, ‘remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return’, but that sombre, maybe even depressing, side of Lent must be balanced by this constant reminder that we never walk alone. Psalm 91 [the important, missing reading at this service thanks to the 1662 liturgy’s imbalance] offers us that reminder today; “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,^{* 2}will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.’” The Spirit takes Jesus into the wilderness, and travels there with him.

I’ve preached before on this and I’m not going to repeat it all now, but it is important to note that throughout the scriptures we find two recurring themes surrounding this theme of wilderness; one is that it is a place of testing, which is a much more accurate translation of the original language used here than temptation, and two, the wilderness is a place where God is found and encountered.

We could discuss for hours what might have really happened out there in the wilderness, I don’t really know. What the story tells us is that Jesus was confronted by a series of three tests, each requiring him to study his own heart and soul, and once those tests were finished he was refreshed and his time in the wilderness came to an end. Here’s what I take from that: the hardest place to go is inside your own soul, and the hardest person to face is yourself.

Lent invites us, in fact it challenges us, to make that journey and face our true selves. It was only after travelling through the wilderness and meeting that challenge that Jesus could step out on the road to Jerusalem, and Lent offers us the some opportunity to prepare – to confront the desert places within us, and face the big question in our lives, so we can set out on the road to our own Jerusalems.

Over the next few weeks we will see once more how hard that road can be. As we walk with Jesus we will be confronted anew by those hard gospel edges, and be reminded of how truly provocative, challenging and dangerous speaking the truth can be. By the time we reach Jerusalem death will be virtually inevitable, but this Lenten journey reminds us also that, unlikely though it may seem and sound, this is ultimately the road to life, [just as Lydia’s baptism, and every baptism, reminds us that it is only through the death of the old that new life can emerge].

So let us truly live this Lent. Let us embrace its challenge and engage with all it offers. Let us step out on the road to Jerusalem, with trepidation, yes, but most of all with hope; hope that we too will be found worthy of this journey, hope that God will be our strength and our refuge, hope that in death we may find life. Amen.
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