The Royal Way of Repentance

The color used at St. Timothy’s for the Lenten season is purple (although the use of unbleached linen in the parish’s past is another, equally valid tradition). This rich, royal color may seem at odds with the austerity of Holy Lent, but this is not the case; rather, purple teaches us something vital and important about how to experience this season.

During the Roman Empire, the highly-prized purpose dye extracted from the murex shell was so valuable that it became a State Monopoly. To own fabric dyed with this color was reserved for the Imperial family. Thus, purple became known as the “royal color.” Yet, it also was seen as a somber color, and eventually treated as the color of repentance. These two meanings of the color – royalty and repentance – go together very well, actually. Jesus said that repentance was the key step in following him (Mark 1: 15, Luke 5: 32, &c.). It has been seen from the beginning of Christianity as the “Royal Road” back to God, for repentance literally means a change in direction. Our repentance takes us from the way of death and puts us back on the way of Life. Lent sets this choice before us: will we take the “onramp” to Life or not?

And this is the good news of the season of Lent. It is a time of what one writer has called a “bright sadness,” an awareness of how we have come to accept a mutilated, diminished form of life rather than the abundant life available through Christ – and of how we are offered forgiveness and renewal if we but turn back to “our first love,” (Rev. 2:4). All of our Lenten disciplines are about recovering that fullness of life, getting back on the Royal Way of salvation.

As we celebrate a Holy Lent, we need to decide whether or not this is yet another self-improvement project in life, or a unique opportunity to embrace what Christ our King offers us. If the former, then Lent will come and go with little significance, joining all of our lonely efforts. If the latter, we will date our lives not from our birth, but from this Lent! May this be a highly-prized time for all of us, and may we join together in a rich and full observance of this Holy Season, without which Easter cannot be truly appreciated.

Easter, Even In Lent

   St. Timothy's has experienced two funerals in the last eight days. In the very beginning of our Lenten observance, we have already twice done away with our fast from Alleluia, the somber purple vestments of Lent, and the penitential character of the Lenten liturgies. For these two times, we have stood in the radiance of the Resurrected Christ, in the splendor of Easter even while making our way through the Great Fast. It can be a bit jarring for some, but it serves as a valuable reminder of a deep truth.

   The Funeral Liturgy is always an Easter Liturgy. There is never a time when the message of Resurrection at the burial of a Christian should be put aside. Though we fast from the jubilation of Easter during this season, even the Lenten Sundays are not used in reckoning the length of Lent: they are Sundays in Lent -- not Sundays of Lent. That is a small but key difference! Sunday, like the Burial Liturgy, is always a celebration of the Resurrection. Though Lent tempers this, it remains an unalterable fact of the Faith: Life and Redemption are God's final word to us. The hope and power of Christ the Victor shines through, inspiring us and leading us to live lives worthy of our calling.

   The triumph of Christ is a non-negotiable fact in the Christian's life, just as is the suffering on the Cross. The Love and Redemption made known in both places puts the Christian firmly in the hands of God. Jesus promises us that where He goes, His faithful disciples will follow. This means indeed we will go to the Cross with Him, taking up our own cross and following along. It also means that faithful discipleship will bring us to union with God through Christ. Nothing, not even Lent, can deny this... save one thing. We, and we alone, can deny ourselves this gift and joy. As the Burial Liturgy puts it: "Though we go down to the dust, even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."

Whether we sing this song or another is up to us; whether others will learn this song by association with us is also up to us. A Lenten burial, especially on a sunny, warm, dry February day in the Willamette Valley, reminds us of this fact. 

   Our Lenten observance is not a time to impose an artificial sorrow for sins we were happy to commit and will commit again when opportunity arises. It is a season of joyful return to the song that is always ours, the melody of redemption, humility, service, and love which belongs to us because Christ has given it to us. Let us sing it with the souls of those gone before us into the Kingdom of God; let the Truth of Easter be with us always, especially in this Holy Lenten season.

These Three Things: A Primer on Lenten Observance

Below is a homily by St. Peter Chrysologus (the “golden-worded”, 406-450 A.D.) Bishop of Ravenna. These words express in great economy the spirit with which we must offer our Lenten ascesis. Like the boats shown in this mosaic from Ravenna, the three holy disciplines of prayer, fasting, and mercy will provide us safe transit to the Kingdom of God when offered in a holy manner. May you know a Holy Lent, reaping richly the fruits of repentance!

"There are three things, my brethren, by which faith stands firm, devotion remains constant, and virtue endures. They are

 prayer, fasting and mercy. Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy and fasting: these three are one, and they give life to each other.

 Fasting is the soul of prayer, mercy is the lifeblood of fasting. Let no one try to separate them; they cannot be separated. If you have only one of them or not all together, you have nothing. So if you pray, fast; if you fast, show mercy; if you want your petition to be heard, hear the petition of others. If you do not close your ear to others you open God’s ear to yourself.

 When you fast, see the fasting of others. If you want God to know that you are hungry, know that another is hungry. If you hope for mercy, show mercy. If you look for kindness, show kindness. If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery.

Let this be the pattern for all men when they practise mercy: show mercy to others in the same way, with the same generosity, with the same promptness, as you want others to show mercy to you.

 Therefore, let prayer, mercy and fasting be one single plea to God on our behalf, one speech in our defence, a threefold united prayer in our favour.

 Let us use fasting to make up for what we have lost by despising others. Let us offer our souls in sacrifice by means of fasting. There is nothing more pleasing that we can offer to God, as the psalmist said in prophecy: A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; God does not despise a bruised and humbled heart.

 Offer your soul to God, make him an oblation of your fasting, so that your soul may be a pure offering, a holy sacrifice, a living victim, remaining your own and at the same time made over to God. Whoever fails to give this to God will not be excused, for if you are to give him yourself you are never without the means of giving.

 To make these acceptable, mercy must be added. Fasting bears no fruit unless it is watered by mercy. Fasting dries up when mercy dries up. Mercy is to fasting as rain is to earth. However much you may cultivate your heart, clear the soil of your nature, root out vices, sow virtues, if you do not release the springs of mercy, your fasting will bear no fruit.

 When you fast, if your mercy is thin your harvest will be thin; when you fast, what you pour out in mercy overflows into your barn. Therefore, do not lose by saving, but gather in by scattering. Give to the poor, and you give to yourself. You will not be allowed to keep what you have refused to give to others."

Transfigured, Challenged, Changed

When we are faced with unexpected, holy events, we sometimes let the mask slip and show a bit of who we are. I remember when my first-born was delivered. Pamela had a very difficult, long labor, and then there were signs of fetal distress. The doctor decided that the situation had become serious, and recommended a fairly hasty ceasarean. Suddenly, we were in a operating room and I was speaking to my wife while a screen was being erected, blocking our view of what was really major surgery performed on an anesthetized but fully-conscious person. Things had become very serious very quickly. I was concerned for the safety of my wife and my child. I prayed, I tried to be “in the moment” and supportive…but I was scared. After what seemed like a very short while, I heard a child’s cry. My first thought was: “now this is a very serious and tense situation; WHO LET A CHILD IN HERE?” Only after I had completed this thought did I realize just how idiotic it was.

When St. Peter uttered his famous request to “build booths” as a response to the Transfiguration of Our Lord, it was only natural. He was doing what the religious tradition recognized as an appropriate way of marking the holiness of the event; he was honoring Jesus, Moses and Elijah. But, he was also wrong.

I say this because of a basic rule in prayer: when we are in direct contact with God, it is always a sign of our having lost the point, our being unfocussed when we start multi-tasking in prayer – or when we think about praying while we are praying. As with any face-to-face contact with someone we value (or any one to whom we desire to show common courtesy), we don’t talk on the phone with someone else at the same time. St. Peter is in effect attempting to do this, and it means that he is unable to experience the event as fully as he might. As the Gospel according to Mark says, “he did not know what to say” in his fear. Just as with my son’s birth, he spoke out of his “true self.” With me it was kind of petulant protectiveness. With St. Peter it was a religious impulse to “do the right thing” and enshrine the event.

The Transfiguration means many things; it forms the great transition from Jesus’ ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing in the hinterlands to the final stage of ministry in Jerusalem. It is a foretaste of his Resurrected glory, and deep mystery showing forth Christ’s lordship over the living (Elijah) and the dead (Moses), as well as his being the fulfillment of the Law (Moses) and the Prophets (Elijah). Beyond this, we experience the Uncreated Light of God in the brilliant light issuing forth from Jesus, and the majestic words of the Father: “This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased: listen to him.” It is an overwhelming disclosure, a profound experience of the Divine in Jesus.

But it is also a challenge to us as disciples to stand before our Great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, in the moment; not to multi-task, not to think about Jesus when we are in his presence and should simply listen, learn, and love. We cannot control or enshrine the Holy; we can only receive the gift on God's terms and then live it out. When we do, we experience the profound peace that comes from knowing the words in today's Gospel about being “the beloved, in whom God is well pleased” not only describing Christ Jesus, but also us when we are in Christ Jesus. It is that peace, that confidence, that power to be ambassadors of such a message we need to think about today. Then, when we contemplate Holy Lent and the character of what is holding us back from living out that peace, we will know where we are called to place our focus in repentance, ascesis, prayer, and reflection.

In today’s Epistle reading, St. Peter reflects years later on the events of the day of Transfiguration. He understands quite clearly by then the nature and meaning of that holy event – a calling to live lives worthy of the Light we have received in Christ. He speaks about this experience as being a lamp burning in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning-star arises in our hearts. It is a holy reminder of who God is, who we are called to be in God, and the absolute necessity we have to be ready for the moments of transfiguration in daily life presented by God.

The old hymn asks: “Were you there?” Were you there not only when they crucified the Lord, or when they nailed him to the tree, or when they laid him in the tomb? But also, were you there when God presented you with a person needing your care and compassion? Were you there when the Church needed your commitment and gifts? Were you there when God gave you the opportunity to forgive? Were you there when something beautiful, awesome, and profound was offered to you by God? If we were there, but were so busy multi-tasking that we failed to notice what was happening, then we were really not there - dead to God’s work in our life. But, we are given this Feast of the Transfiguration and the season of Lent which begins on Wednesday to wake up from our sleep, to rise from our deathly state, and to turn again to the truth. For that we may thankful, indeed.

The Only Gate for All

Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.

In a consumerist society such as ours, one based on the belief that more choice equals more truth, the words of Jesus in the Gospel appointed for the Feast of St. Timothy cannot but send a shiver down the back. We are taught, indeed groomed, to believe that only by keeping our options open, by having a wide array of choices, and through our opinions being consulted and valued, can we be content with our leaders. But Jesus has another vision.

He is the gate; he is the way into the sheepfold. He provides not a smorgasbord of options but a simple choice: either accept him as the Lord, or not. Why? And how can we proclaim this today?

He does this because there is only one way to gain entrance before God: that is to be like God. We were created in the Image and Likeness of God, but we have settled for something less, something ungodly. Christ offers the unique way back, and at the same time forward, to our identity. He makes possible the renewal of the Image and cleansing of the Likeness in us. He shares his life with that we might enter and stand before God again. But we must enter as he does: through the gateway of humility, mercy, compassion, love. This is the gate; this is the way to God. Jesus embodies it; he is it. There is no other way, no shortcut over the fence, or through a gap in the wall. There is only his way. This is why he must say these words. They are the truth we must hear and live.

Every time we focus on choices and options, we are really asking for the easy way of discipleship, the way that requires no personal transformation, no growth in hard-won compassion. The prayer for this day reminds us that it is through enduring hardship, not in avoiding it, that our holiness is wrought. The ‘godly and righteous’ lives of the saints we laud in our worship must set the standard and pattern for our own lives. Anything less is bleak hypocrisy.

A Christian is really a Christian when he or she knows that the disciple’s back is against the wall, and the time of choices has ended. There is only one way to the peace we seek: it is the way of Jesus, the way of love. When we accept this and then choose to love another person not because they are like us, but precisely because they are unlike us in every way except that Jesus has loved them as well…then we are taking the Jesus way, the unique way into the pasturage the human soul desires above all else. Only when Christians themselves have decided to walk through the Gate, and no longer make our own stolen entries on our own terms, will our witness to the world be righteous and godly. Pray this week we may live such conscious lives before our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Almighty God, you called Timothy and Titus to be evangelists and teachers, and made them strong to endure hardship: Strengthen us to stand fast in adversity, and to live godly and righteous lives in this present time, that with sure confidence we may look for our blessed hope, the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

The Gesima Sisters and their (almost) return

Some of you reading this will remember the three Sundays prior to Lent being known as the ‘Gesima’ Sundays: Septuagesima, Sexagesima, and Quinquagesima. They formed a sort of “semi-season” of preparation before Lent in the ancient Western Kalendar. One priest I worked with used to speak lovingly of “the Gesima Sisters” and their annual visit The current revision of the Prayer Book swept these observances away, however. The focus today in the Calendar is on Epiphanytide as a time of Theophany (the showing-forth of Christ as Son of God) and the mission of the Church to share the Gospel to all peoples.

As valuable as this focus is, there remains a very real need for Anglican Christians to prepare for Holy Lent. When we defer that work until the days immediately prior to Ash Wednesday, we are likely not going to get very deep in our Lenten observance.

To that end, during these three last Sundays of the season, we are focusing on classic themes and practices for preparation for the full observance of a Holy Lent.
- Sermons on rekindling a Holy Desire for God, humility, and forgiveness of others
- A Lenten Rule form will be set out (with a detachable commitment form) with instruction for considering your Lenten discipline.
- A list of key Lenten practices with explanations will be in the Tidings (our parish newsletter)

We will also celebrate Shrovetide, of course! The Last Sunday after Epiphany will witness our “Farewell to Alleluia.” Holy Eucharist on Shrove Tuesday (10 AM) will commemorate St. Agatha and also the end of Ordinary Time; the traditional pancake supper will be offered in the evening.

While the Gesima Sundays are no longer officially part of the Church Year, my own sense is that eventually, a pre-Lenten time of “official” preparation will re-emerge in the Episcopal Calendar. It simply reflects a wise and holy practice. You are always welcome to contact me to discuss your Lenten observance; this glorious “Feast of Lent,” as George Herbert called it, deserves consideration. The opportunity it provides and the Paschal joy it heralds deserves no less.

The Courage to Grow

Today’s Gospel is a quietly challenging text. In it, we hear that two disciples of St. John the Baptist overhear John naming Jesus as the Lamb of God, whose sacrifice will take away “the sin of the world.” This starts the disciples on the road of inquiry. Who exactly is this Jesus? How is he the “Lamb of God?” The biblical text takes but a few lines, but it is entirely possible that these hitherto devoted disciples of John had to do some serious soul-searching and courage-raising before they could ask Jesus about himself.

At first, the best they could do was to follow behind Jesus, apparently silently (and perhaps a bit sheepishly). Finally, Jesus turns to them and says: “What are you looking for?” And this really begins the great adventure. Jesus takes the initiative here, as he truly does in all authentic discipleship. When we forget this and come to think of our following Jesus as something we control or even start, then we have ceased to worship God and are looking instead into a mirror.

But, this story has much more to offer us. The two disciples in question were first disciples of John, not Jesus. We don’t know exactly how many disciples John had, but from what the Gospel tells us elsewhere, it was likely there were a considerable number. How many of them understood that his was a ministry of being a forerunner, we cannot be sure. Perhaps many were not even able to understand that John was “not that light,” as the Gospel tells us, but “bore witness to that light…that was coming into the world.” The point is that John was clear about his ministry: he came to prepare the way for the Christ. Yet, it must have been difficult for others who had become disciples of John to grow beyond him, to accept the full dimensions of his purpose and ministry.

These two disciples were amongst the first people who had to look at Jesus as a challenge to grow in their faith and understanding. Too often Christians act as if they can somehow “graduate” from growing in faith – as if there is a time when following Jesus leads us to a point of assurance requiring no deeper love, no richer comprehension. This is surely a kind of heresy. We who follow Christ need always be ready to answer the Lord’s question again: “What are you seeking?” And we must do so with fresh words, a new level of eagerness.

We are not told what transpired when these two disciples stayed with Jesus. It is a matter on which some speculate; but for us, let it be a reminder that the path to full discipleship includes chapters that are essentially incommunicable to others. All we are told is that one of those disciples – St. Andrew – came out of his encounter with Christ a transformed man, ready to share his experience of the Good News with his brother, thereby brining the future leader of the Apostles before his Lord and Master.

All of this could happen because these two disciples were not first and foremost disciples of John: they were seekers after the Truth, lovers of God, and unsatisfied with anything less. They did not confuse faith with stubbornness or rigidity. They had the courage to grow as they were called by God; they set the pattern for all of us, all our churches, all our ministries. Only if we are like they were will the message we bear be worth hearing…because it will not be our own message, but God’s.