Sermon for Lent 1: (Yet more) on the Joys of Lent

Sermon. 14 February 2016. St Mary Magdalene's, East Ham

Lent 1 (Year C)

A non-apology. Here I repeat themes and anecdotes I have mentioned previously, including at the Ash Wednesday service, immediately below, and in previous years. I do not apologise for this. I am speaking to different gatherings. Also, the idea of Lent as a quietly joy-oriented season, for it promotes a 'high anthropology' (as they say), is one I myself have not heard in sermons other than mine.

Deuteronomy 26.1-11

Romans 10.8b-13

Luke 4.1-13

Let me begin with thanks. First, I thank you for your invitation to me today. It's a pleasure for me to be with you; I like to get to know the church communities in the area, which is still relatively new to me. Second, thank you for not greeting me at the door with a big bunch of red roses and a Valentine's card. This for two reasons: first, in the church calendar this is not Valentine's Day (it is the First Sunday of Lent, and if it were not Sunday, it would actually be the Feast of St Cyril and St Methodius); second, because it happens that I am from Yorkshire, and so red roses do very little for me. I associate them with Lancashire. If anything I'd be looking for white roses of the House of York.

After those thanks, I wonder, though, if I should now offer an apology. An apology for lowering the mood, in that I have just stressed that Lent takes priority over Valentine's Day. I am going to stop short of giving that apology... because am not at all convinced that Lent itself is actually a gloomy, negative, joyless season.

Let me tell you a true story. I was at a religious house (I won't name it) one Ash Wednesday. The congregation was gathered by the altar in a large arc ready for the ashing. The priest came to the first candidate and intoned: 'Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return; turn away from Christ and be faithful to sin'. There was a titter. But! But not only did he say those unfortunate words to the first person, he said the same to everybody there. So by the end, everybody in church – apart from the nonplussed priest – was doubled-up and pretty close to hysterics.

Since I won't name the priest, no one need be embarrassed, still less humiliated in the re-telling. My point is solely this: I am suggesting that it might even be a good thing to enter Lent feeling mirth. Lent is a 'solemn' season in the rather technical sense. But that doesn't mean – at all – it is about feeling bad about ourselves. On the contrary, it is about strength and hope. We are to be self-reflective, yes, but also, even now, oriented towards joy. This for (at least) three reasons.

First, the words 'Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return' do not mean: 'You're so rotten you deserve to die'. No. Rather, they mean: 'Remember that you are mortal, that your life is limited, is bounded'. This means you are here for only a span of time. You are unique and unrepeatable. Unrepeatable and unique. And every moment you experience as your unique self is itself unique and unrepeatable.

So you are precious. No one in the universe is more precious than you. Others are as precious as you, including those people you can't stand. True. But that takes nothing away from the fact that no one is more precious than you. No one else can live your life. So make the most of it. And we make the most of our lives not by desperately chasing after pleasure. (Think about those people who have tried it; it just doesn't work.) Rather we make the most of our lives by finding our calling (inasmuch as we can) and committing to it (as best we can). So – what are you waiting for? - is the Lenten question.

Second, the words (let me take care to get it right...) 'Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ' remind us that Christ is already here, waiting for us. We do not have to become good to earn his attention, good will or rewards. Rather, all we have to do is turn. And turn we all can, however clumsily. So we already have everything we need to become holy, if we but trust in this. You see how this is not about lowering self-esteem. True self-esteem (not pride) can only be enhanced once we realise Gd is offering us holiness. Just turn!

Third, these things are true because Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and offering forgiveness and feasting, as we see from the New Testament resurrection accounts. So every day – including even Ash Wednesday and Good Friday – is also Easter. There is no moment that is not also Easter. The saint who saw this most clearly was the Russian St Seraphim of Sarov, who, against all the church fasting rules, would stand on the steps of the church on Good Friday even, munching his forbidden sausages and greeting everyone with 'Christ is risen!' Or: 'My joy! Christ is risen!' This is what St Paul is reminding us in today's second reading. We believe that Jesus is Lord, not because we have a list of criteria for Lordship which it turns out Jesus meets. Rather we trust that he is Lord because we trust that Gd has raised him from the dead in such a way as reveals his Lordship. It all begins in the resurrection. All of it – including Lent.

So, Lent is a positive season. It is not a season of exuberance; all of that will come at Easter. But it is a season of quiet, reflective joy, where our hopes for ourselves and our capacity to change and grow are at the forefront of our attention. I say again: it is a call to make the most of our lives, by fulfilling our calling. We are given robust hints how to do this in today's readings.

The first reading from Deuteronomy, is itself about feasting. It says we must embed our feasting in thanksgiving, in gratitude. We must say thank you to Gd for the comforts and delights we have. Not because Gd needs our thanks, but because we will go of the rails if we do not give thanks.

But there is more to it. Woven into our thanksgiving is the call to tell our own story or stories. See: 'A wandering Aramean was my ancestor...' and his story is told, as part of our story. This is not accidental or incidental. We will only know our calling if we can give as authentic an account as we can of where we have come from. We don't offer our autobiography to every passing stranger. But we do look, in our lives of faith, for people and contexts where we can tell it as it was, so as to tell it as it is.

And so to today's gospel. Here is the hard part; I don't hide that. If we are to make the most of our lives by being true to our calling, we had better know that we will face temptation; we will feel real, existential, all-the-way-down doubt. Jesus faced it; we will face it in some measure. 'If you are the Son of Gd... if...', the devil says to Jesus repeatedly. Remember, Jesus has just heard, at his baptism, the very Voice from heaven telling him in no uncertain terms that he is the Son. Yet he cannot bask in that reassurance. On the contrary, he is led into the wild places, and has to come to a place where he truly knows it for himself. Through temptation and doubt. If...

There are limitless variations on this diabolical 'if'.

If you had faith, you would be healed.

If we were a true Christian community, we'd be growing in numbers dramatically.

If I were a proper Christian, I wouldn't find prayer so dry and uninspiring.

If we were a proper Church, our leaders would be able to outwit the media and our opponents.

And so on.

These are not doubts of an intellectual or rational kind. Such doubts are a vital part of faith. But these are doubts which question our ability, our worthiness to be called by Gd, connected to Gd. Such doubts we must resist, as Jesus resisited before us, so that we can so resist.

So, brothers and sisters, I wish you a serious but also a joy-oriented Lent.

Joy, because you are precious.

Joy, because you already have all that you need to turn to Christ and so become holy.

Joy, because Christ is risen from the dead, and there is no time and no place that is not Easter.

Joy, because by Gd's grace you can come to know and own your own worth, worthiness to be called by Gd, because it is Gd's will to call you.

Joy, because Gd is, with or without roses, the true lover of all.

Amen.

The pictures are of the Church of St Mary Magdalene, East Ham, and are, in turn, (1) the sanctuary, (2) the 'window' onto the Anchorite's cell (currently unoccupied) and (3) 'a warning against drunkenness' - a person becoming a monkey on the reception of wicked hops.