Lent I

Gathered through the power of the Holy Spirit, we worship God with gladness. We encourage you to pray over the words that follow, and follow the links within the liturgy. Prayers in this service are adapted from Celebrate God’s Presence (UCPH). Thanks this week to Kerri, Taye, and Heather!

PRELUDE: “Confession” (Schutt)

OPENING PRAYER:

Gather us, God,
from the solitary places
from every form of shelter
from all that separates us.

Gather us, God,
from a time of trouble
from a time of trepidation
from every type of trial.

Gather us, God,
when only prayer can bind us
when only love can hold us
when only life in Christ can lead us home.
Amen.

HYMN OF PRAISE: “O love, how deep”

O love, how deep, how broad, how high!
It fills the heart with ecstasy,
that God, in Jesus Christ, should take
our mortal form for mortals’ sake.

God sent no angel to our race
of higher or of lower place,
but wore the robe of human frame,
and freely to this lost world came.

For us he was baptized, and bore
a holy fast, and hungered sore;
for us temptations sharply knew;
for us the tempter overthrew.

For us he prayed, for us he taught,
for us great daily works were wrought,
by words and signs, and actions, thus
still seeking not himself, but us.

For us to wicked foes betrayed,
scourged, mocked, in purple robe arrayed,
he bore the shameful cross and death;
for us at length gave up his breath.

For us he rose from death again,
for us he went on high to reign,
for us he sent his Spirit here
to guide, to strengthen and to cheer.

To God whose boundless love has won
salvation for us through the Son,
to God all praise and glory be
both now and through eternity.

PRAYER OF CONFESSION

Hear us, God as we pray:
We confess we have too much of some things
and too little of others.
We could use less worry, less news, 
less judgement, less self-justification.
We could use more calm, more quiet,
more compassion, more understanding.
Help us find a balance,
help us find the middle path.
help as we pray. Amen.

ASSURANCE OF PARDON

God will give us what we need:
strength for today,
hope for tomorrow,
and forgiveness
for all that is past.
Amen.

SPECIAL MUSIC: “Amazing Grace” (Newton/arr. Kern)

FIRST READING: Psalm 25

To you, O God, I lift my soul; my God, in you I trust.
Let me not be put to shame, nor let my foes gloat over me.
Let none who wait for you be shamed;
let them be shamed who wantonly break faith.
Show me your ways; teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me;
for you are God my saviour.
For you I wait all the day long.

Remember your mercy, O God, and your steadfast love,
for they are as old as time.
Do not remember the sins and offences of my youth.
According to your steadfast love remember me,
for your goodness’ sake, O God!

You are upright and good, O God,
therefore you show the path to those who go astray.
You guide the humble to do what is right,
and teach the lowly your way.
All your ways are loving and sure
for those who keep your covenant
and commandments.

SECOND READING: Mark 1.9-15

9 At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11 And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

12 At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, 13 and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

14 After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. 15 “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”

HYMN: “O God of Bethel”

O God of Bethel, by whose hand
your people still are fed,
who through this earthly pilgrimage
have all your servants led:

our vows, our prayers, we now present
before your throne of grace.
God of past ages, be the God
of each succeeding race.

Through each perplexing path of life
our wandering footsteps guide;
give us each day our daily bread,
and shelter fit provide.

O spread your covering wings around,
till all our wanderings cease,
and at our God’s beloved abode
our souls arrive in peace.

REFLECTION

It feels like the longest Lent ever.

If we mark time according to the liturgical calendar, Lent ended on April 5th of last year—then Holy Week, then Easter, and so on. If you mark time by an emotional calendar, then maybe Lent never ended. Let me explain.

We begin the season of Lent with Jesus’ retreat into the desert, a symbol or metaphor for this 40-day season of withdrawal and solitude. Observing the season should include simplicity and self-discipline, and it should be reflective, which by its very nature should end up being penitential. I think you see the connection: The last year or so has been a time of withdrawal from others, with solitude, and forced simplicity, and the ongoing need for self-discipline. Even extra time to reflect remains a feature, with lots of “if onlys” and “I wish I’d known” thrown in for good measure. As I said, the longest Lent ever.

Of course, I should also note some of the good things. Walking is up, local travel (and spending) is up, time spent with immediate family is up, even creativity is up, from baking to mending to making do. One of the things I have come to treasure is talking with my father. He’s never been a phone guy, but now we spend time each day chatting and discovering new things about each other.

I don’t think he’ll mind if I give you one example, in this case a question that never occurred to me. There were a number of stories in the news about kids out of the classroom and the potential effect this might have on them, and it occurred to me that I didn’t know whether dad went to school while living under occupation. He was eleven by the time Holland was liberated, meaning these were critical years in his development. Anyway, he said that yes, they went to school through most of these years, except in times of crisis.

“Okay,” I said, “I have to stop you there. The country was occupied for over five years…how can you tell what’s a crisis in the middle of a crisis?”

Then he patiently explained the difference to me. And as he talked, it occurred to me that this also finds parallels in our experience. At times you settle into the routine of a new normal, maybe things ease or appear better, and then you are suddenly thrown into a new stage of the same crisis. Once it was a crisis, and now it seems a series of crises within a crisis.

Back to Lent—this Lent. We are barely a dozen verses into Mark’s Gospel, and Jesus finds himself in a crisis. Newly baptized, the Spirit sends him into the desert, where he faces the adversary. Mark, a man of few words, then tells us wild animals were with Jesus, and the angels tended to him. And that’s it. But we’ve read other accounts, by evangelists with less commitment to brevity, so we know the makeup of these temptations. Hungry, the devil brings bread; lonely, the devil offers crowds; uncertain, the devil offers him protection from harm. One writer says the devil bested God twice before this moment (see the garden, see Job) and it wasn’t going to happen again.* I’ll let Luke finish the story:

When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time. (4.13)

So the crisis is past, but as Luke foreshadows, there are more on the way. We could spend much of the next 40 days debating the opportune time Luke is alluding to, and all the ways the adversary enters the passage up to Jerusalem. And maybe we will. Whatever we conclude, it seems obvious that God’s desire to be with us has moved from gift to crisis in a matter of weeks, and we are left to reflect. And we are left to prepare.

Early on in this crisis I remember seeing a cartoon of a man in a tiny rowboat in the middle of a great storm. The caption is the man shouting into the storm, “I guess I finally have time to finish that novel!” Is funny because it’s absurd or is it funny because it’s true? Both, I suppose. So here we are, nearly a year into the crisis, entering a Lent within a Lent once more. Part of my job is to guide you through the season, so let me begin by saying that this is not the Lent you will sit down to write the great Lenten novel. And I’ll tell you why:

Very early in the pandemic the Italian newspaper Repubblica published an article by Dr. Paolo Legranzi, professor of psychology at the University of Venice. The title of the article (“Why I can’t read a novel while in confinement”) explains the problem. You see, in times of crisis, the human brain is designed to do one thing at a time. You can’t focus on a novel when you’re waiting for Dr. Tam to speak, or waiting for the latest numbers to drop.

But there’s more. Dr. Legranzi also points to the disconnect between the world of the novel (unless it’s a novel about pandemics) and the world we currently live in. I’ll let the doctor speak, strangely clear for something translated from Italian to French to English:

“Page 21 of the novel we are reading: the protagonist stands up and prepares to shake hands with his future great friend, but just then our reading instincts prevail and burst out like a cry: ‘Don’t do it, respect the social distancing rule, we can’t touch each other anymore!’”**

I recall spending weeks trying to push similar thoughts aside as we roamed Netflix and Amazon Prime. Seeing a crowd was jarring, or a hug, or even a simple handshake. It’s amazing how many shows are set in bars or restaurants, or around impossibly large dining room tables, or on crowded streets. When your brain can only do one thing at a time in a crisis, even watching television becomes a challenge.

Back to Lent, we’re already living a time of withdrawal from others, with solitude, and forced simplicity, and the ongoing need for self-discipline. So maybe this Lent we should simply spend more time thinking of others. Thinking of others as a form of prayer. Thinking of everyone who is suffering, both the people who are experiencing what we experience, and those who are having a very different experience—something we know we can barely understand. Let’s make Lent a time of solidarity and compassion, taken one at a time, of course.

May God be with you in this wilderness time, and may the wild beasts of worry be kept a bay, as you let the angels minister to you, Amen.

*Jack Miles
**https://www.courrierinternational.com/article/psychologie-pourquoi-je-narrive-pas-lire-de-roman-pendant-le-confinement and https://www.lapresse.ca/arts/litterature/2020-04-09/pandemie-et-paralysie-creatrice

PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE

Gracious and loving God,
We come before you as one body,
together but in separate places.
As we pray these words, alone or in twos,
we remember that the Risen One is with us,
binding us, one to another, now and always.

We praise you this day, O God,
for the creation you give us,
for the earth and all it’s goodness,
for the hidden potential beneath the snow,
for the promise of spring,
and the gift of a warm place to live.

We thank you for our congregation,
for care extended and love made known:
for calls and messages,
for questions and interest
for timely reminders that are never alone.
Enrich our ministry to each other,
and extend this care beyond our fellowship
to include all who seek to dwell in your love.

Today, O God, we ask:
When we are anxious, send calm
When we are restless, send meaning
When we are overwhelmed, send comfort
When hearts are heavy with grief, send assurance
and help us see light in this time.

We gather these and other concerns, praying
for everyone on the front lines of this crisis:
nurses and physicians,
hospital staff and technicians,
caregivers and everyone who supports them.
We pray for all essential workers:
hold them through fatigue and fear.
We also pray for those compelled to remain home,
but would rather be out working in the world.

God, be with our friends and loved ones,
keep them from harm,
and remind them of your abiding love.

Out of the depths we cry to you, Lord;
we trust you will hear our voice.
Remain attentive when we cry for mercy
and remain with us now
and forevermore.
Amen.

THE LORD’S PRAYER

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
and forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us;
and lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.

HYMN: “O God, whose first creative word”

O God, whose first creative word
set universes into place,
who stretched across the whirling void
infinities of time and space;
O speak to our chaotic d
a word of ordered grace, we pray.

O Christ who came, the living word,
proclaiming love’s redeeming power,
who drained the tempter’s bitter cup
and triumphed in earth’s darkest hour;
O speak to our despair and pain
a word that kindles hope again.

O Spirit, ever-present word,
God’s agent of transforming grace,
who seeks to enter every heart
with light its darkness to replace;
O speak within the hearts we raise
a joyful word of faith and praise.

BLESSING

Now may the God of peace make you holy in every way,
and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless
until our Lord Jesus Christ comes again. Amen.
—1 Thessalonians 5:23

God be with you till we meet again;
loving counsels guide, uphold you,
with a shepherd’s care enfold you;
God be with you till we meet again.