Lents that have been a gift to me

by Bishop Stewart Wood, shared at the Bevy of Bishops Lenten series March 18, 2015

I asked my wife, “Do you remember any Lent that was special for you?”  She said, “No,” and I wasn’t really surprised.  Mind you, not remembering something special in no way suggests all of those Lents went for naught.  Most of us eat three meals a day, most of them enjoyable and nourishing our bodies in some way; but it’s not likely that we can recall many of the meals we’ve eaten as truly special. 

I must confess that when I tried to remember something about the seventy-two Lents I’ve experienced since becoming an Episcopalian only a few really stood out. 

My family was introduced to the Episcopal Church at St. Stephen’s Church in Edina, Minnesota in 1943.   We had attended the Congregational Church in Detroit.  That’s where my sister and I were baptized and where my parents were active. What attracted us to St. Stephen’s was its neighborhood quality.  We could easily walk to it, and lots of our neighbors belonged.  I think you’d call that “Birds of a feather” evangelism.

I got drawn in to its youth programs pretty quickly and loved serving as an acolyte.  My parents relate the story of my coming home one Sunday for lunch when I was twelve and announcing that when I grew up I wanted to be “an erector.” 

All of that is simply to say I loved the Church as a young person.  Lent had a special power because of its mystic length, forty days set apart from the rest of the year.  For me and my friends it was the season of anticipation of Easter.  It was the end of winter’s grip and the promise of spring.

As a seminarian I was drawn to Grace Church, Alexandria, Virginia.  I was intrigued by its patterns of worship and by Edward Merrow, its Rector.  He was a big fellow, had played semi-professional football and sung in opera before being ordained.  With that great voice and imposing body he was something to behold in the pulpit or at the altar.  During Lent he took on a serious discipline of fasting, so much so that by Easter he seemed a shadow of the man we knew on Ash Wednesday.

As Holy Week was approaching that first spring in seminary I signed up for the 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM portion of the Maundy Thursday watch that lasted through the night in anticipation of our Lord’s crucifixion.  To my deep embarrassment I fell asleep in the midst of it.  Like the disciples in the garden on the night of our Lord’s betrayal I had been unable to keep my eyes open.  I was ashamed and felt judged.  That was a jarring experience. I doubt I counted my discipline that Lent to have been very successful.

The first Lent that stood apart from its predecessors was in the late seventies and early eighties while I served a congregation in Glendale, Ohio.  Susan Lehman, my associate, was wonderfully gifted and imaginative.  This particular Lent she took a beautiful crystal bowl that must have been a wedding gift and placed it in the center of their dining room table filled it with dirt.  She had reflected on the phrase used as ashes are imposed on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  For her this was a very realistic message, an encouragement to go easy on yourself.  Lent is a chance to pull back from all that frantic activity that marks our lives and remember we’re mortal.  Take a breath, stop pushing so hard.  Realize you are beloved of God without having to produce something. That has been a lasting counsel, a Lent for which I give thanks to God.  Susan had read our congregation accurately and knew the kind of tonic we all needed for that Lent.

What might Lent be for you the next time around?  What advice can I offer?

I’d say first off, be really careful about what you take on or give up.  Lent is not like going to a fitness club to get in shape.  It’s not intended to be “no pain – no gain” enterprise.  Instead I believe the Church offers it as an opportunity to deepen our awareness of God’s love for us just as we are.  Guilt is easy to come by, and given the demands on most of us the risk of taking on something too burdensome is that it will only generate more guilt.  At the risk of sounding sacrilegious I’m for a “guilt-free Lent.”

Second, I’d encourage you to find a way to share the season with others.  A Lenten series like “A Bevy of Bishops” is one example.  And there are any number of Lenten programs available on the Internet – such as “Stop, Pray, Work, Play, Love” from SSJE (http://ssje.org/ssje/time/).  Engaging in a communal Lenten discipline has the benefit of encouraging you to stay with it and opens you to gifts and challenges not of your own making.

Finally, I’d encourage you to seek several partners with whom you can make the Lenten journey together.   Whatever vehicle you choose will likely be a blessing, but the act of sharing what difference it’s making for you and the others is an even greater blessing.

So here’s to a guilt-free season of discovery with others, one that deepens your awareness of God’s love for you.