Saturday reflection: Lent 2012

The second most visited post on this blog is one I wrote about Lent in 2011: 33 things to give up for Lent. All year long people have come to this post by searching for Lent. Which is interesting, since Lent is a period of forty days (plus 6 Sundays) between Ash Wednesday and Easter. It doesn’t last all year.

Several years ago, some friends and I wrote about Lent. When I started that blog, I said

What I’m seeing is posts from you which would wrestle with what we learn when we give up that which we enjoy for the sake of better understanding that in which we delight. Not all of us are from a liturgical background. That’s the point. I want to have some wrestling with lent, with fasting, with self-denial as self-discovery, with the relationships between forms and faith and relationship.

For 2012, I decided to gather some of the posts I’ve written about Lent and fasting. I also decided to post it 10 days before Ash Wednesday in case you want to plan ahead.

And so you know, in 2012 Ash Wednesday is February 22 and Easter is April 8.

Some comments on fasting from Matthew 6

Some comments about silence

  • Deliberate silence - Excerpt: “I am involved regularly in deliberate unsilence. Every day I am generating words and thought images and stories and photos with the intention of disrupting silence. And so are you.”
  • habits of sight. - Excerpt: “Some habits are desirable. We call those “disciplines.” Some habits are not. We call those “addictions.” Some are neutral. We call those “drinking coffee.” For the last six weeks I gave up a way of seeing called twitter. When Lent started, I hadn’t exactly intended to give it up. However, I was beginning to wonder whether Twitter was a discipline (staying in touch with a group of people that I was beginning to care about and for) or an addiction (staring at the flow of comments in every spare moment) or neutral (stopping to say ‘hi’ while walking to the office coffee pot).”
  • listen – Excerpt: “I discovered that I use noise. I discovered that when I drive and start talking with God, I finish a couple sentences and reach for the radio. I didn’t realize how often I do that until I watched my hand reach for the radio that no longer was there.”
  • 8 ways to get better at following, part 2 - Excerpt: “Most of us have heard about sabbaticals. A sabbatical is a break from something. It could be taking a day each week with electronic devices turned off or six months away from work. The idea of sabbatical is rooted in the idea of sabbath.”

Some comments about Sabbath

I know that Sabbath seems like the opposite of Lent. It’s time to eat and rest, where Lent seems to be about suffering. But for many of us, truly taking time off, giving up the franticness for family and feasting and frivolity and fellowship, would be its own kind of fast.

  • Our sabbath group - Excerpt:  We started a couple years ago. Just for six weeks. Now we can’t stop. It’s not complicated, by the way. It starts with “you hungry? For supper and God?” And goes from there.
  • Burdens and breakfast - Excerpt: “These were people who weren’t just tired. They were tired from living up to expectations. They were tired from having to look over their shoulder, expecting pastors to pester them, expecting Pharisees to flog them. Every step was a burden. And Jesus says, “try my yoke”.
  • A question of stopping - Excerpt: “Late at night, when being driven by the list, rest seems desirable, but out of reach. In the morning, when being driven by the list, rest seems long gone. In the middle of the day, between the calls and the visits and the ambiguity and the precisely-phrased demands, rest seems impossible.”
  • On rests - Excerpt: “I used to play tuba. As such, there were often long stretches of music pieces we played during which I didn’t play. We would spend these times counting very carefully (1-2-3-4, 2-2-3-4, 3-2-3-4 and so on). It was stressful at times because you had to make sure you entered at the right place.”
  • Time is hard to take - Excerpt: “Ironically, it is easier to confess to you my inability to stop than it is to just stop. Is it possible that there is in the confession a desire to receive compassion, empathy, understanding…from you? I mean, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You are, as I am, a part of a culture which, whether inside or outside church, finds stopping difficult. We feel as though we must be productive in our work, in our rest, in our play, in our wasting of time. If we can’t do something, we must at least create the facade of busyness.”

the day after

I teach every week in three settings, but I only preach a couple of times a year.

Yesterday I stitched together posts  about John 4, explored  ideas with our Saturday night small group, and preached. I’m grateful for the responses, grateful for what I learned while studying.

I don’t want to talk about the message here. I want to talk about the day after.

The day after I teach or preach is often a pretty numb day. I spend Sunday playing tapes in my head, identifying the “what I should have said” and “what I could have said” and “That was a dumb thing to say.” I know that these are not objective statements. I try to take a nap which has the effect of rebooting my brain.

I say this to let you know that if you teach or preach and this happens to you, you are not alone.

On Monday, I find thinking to be a difficult thing to do. There is often little creativity. There is often little patience. There is often little initiative. There is a tendency to argue with comments about the previous day’s performance, especially if those comments are positive. There is a tendency to think of the previous day as a performance.

I say this to let you know that if you teach or preach and this happens to you, you are not alone.

There is little desire to do what Jesus did in these situations, to go off by himself and spend time with his dad. There is little desire to let responsibility for what people do with the teaching rest with them and with God.

I say this to let you know that if you teach or preach and this happens to you, you are not alone.

I’m glad I’m not alone.

Weakened

Or should it say weekend?

Some of us get to Saturday morning, full of energy, full of projects, full of passion to “get something done.” The rest of us get to Saturday morning dragging. We have been busy all week. We are struggling with a list of activities that got longer during the week, rather than shorter. Saturday morning has a list of projects, yes, but it also comes with a list of obligations that is even longer. We drag the tasks from the wee, hoping to get some done before Monday.

Unless we work on the weekend anyway. In which case Saturday is already a work day and full of activities and the longing for time off to match the schedules of our friends.

And we arrive at the weekend exhausted, carrying a backpack full of obligations and eyes full of dreams and a heart that is weary. And God’s response is not to give us the strength to keep pushing through. God’s response is to tell us to forget about that workd for a day a week.

What a burden that is. To have to talk off perfectly good working time in order to obey God? To lose track of all those projects while taking a day to play? To not be productive, on purpose, for one seventh of my waking time?

What kind of system is that!

Wait. What kind of system is leaving everyone I know tired. What kind of system is exhausting people, is putting rings around eyes. What kind of system has me yawning as I write?

Oh. That’s right. A system built about me rather that being built for me.

Jesus invited us to come to him for rest. And so, being the weekend, I invite you to listen to him. With me.

looking for a reason

Sometimes you have conversations that are conversations. Sometimes questions are asked for the purpose of finding out the answer.

“How is it with your soul?” is a question seeking an answer, trying to help someone else reflect.

“What is the question you don’t want me to ask?” is a question about trust, about helping someone discern what is going on in their heart.

Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?” is a research kind of question. It could lead to a wonderful reflection on what sabbath really means, about what is restful, about the line between restorative activity and work.

Jesus goes that direction, using very clear comparative legal reasoning. “You’ll take care of a sheep. A man is worth more than a sheep. Therefore taking care of a man is acceptable.”

It is clear and accurate…and wasted.

They didn’t care at all about the answer. They cared about trapping Jesus, about finding a reason to kill him.

They asked the question knowing that the better his answer, the more wrong he would be. And he knew that the better his answer was, the more in trouble he would be.

And he didn’t back down. They asked. He answered truthfully and skillfully and then he healed the man. Because for Jesus, this was not an abstract conversation about theology. This was about a man with a hand that needed to be fixed.

——–

Join me in the mirror for a moment for some more questions:

1. When you know someone has argumentative questions, do you answer or avoid?

2. Is your answer adequate or technically brilliant?

3. Are you more about winning the argument or healing the person that is being used as bait?

4. For the sake of a person, will you risk everything?

Jesus wasn’t looking for a reason. He had one.

New rules

The rules were very clear, at least to some people.

If you are in a field and you are hungry and you pick some of the grain and eat it because you are incredibly hungry from living on the move, you are wrong.

Not because if you eat too many oats you’ll get sick like the eight-year-old kid I was in camp with whose name I don’t remember but who ate way too many oats while we were hiking to a cookout and got sick. I mean really sick.

That’s the kind of rule that makes tremendous sense. It protects other 8-year-old boys and their counselors from unnecessary cleanups in the middle of the night. No, this rule said that grabbing some grain just to take the edge off the growling of your stomach counts as full-blown harvesting of grain. And on the Sabbath, harvesting of grain is wrong.

I understand the larger rule. The todo list will never get done. There is a place for rest. There need to be limits. To make, however, grabbing a handul of wheat to chew on a major rule is, it seems, a little over the top.

Which is what Jesus says.

The rule of the Sabbath is, Jesus suggests, a principle. It is better to eat and break the rule than to pass out but be obedient. It is better to look for mercy than to measure the sacrifices. It is better to value people than to build elaborate rule structures that devalue them. It is better to look at what is happening than to blindly apply human rules. It is better to talk with the Maker of the rules than to condemn him.

It is better to be with Jesus in a field on a Sabbath picking grain than anywhere else.