As Lent begins, Bishop David Bard calls us to pay close attention to our humanness in all its complexity and develop character qualities befitting such self-knowledge…
The church season of Lent begins on March 5 with Ash Wednesday. For a number of years, many Protestant churches did not give much attention to either Ash Wednesday or Lent. To many, it seemed too Roman Catholic. I have almost no memories of Lent growing up, but my family was not the most active churchgoing family either.
I have come to love this season. While its themes are difficult and the mood somber and subdued, it invites us to attend to our humanness in all its complexity.
We acknowledge our fragility during Lent. “You are dust” is part of the classic greeting when ashes are imposed on our foreheads or hands. “All flesh is grass; their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers; the flower fades” (Isaiah 40:6-7, NRSVUE). We treasure longevity yet know that stiff joints, fading vision, pain, and loss come with a longer life.
During Lent, we confront our finitude. We will not last forever. The classic Lenten phrase that begins, “You are dust,” concludes with, “And to dust you shall return.” While we may not relish the pains that accompany aging, we treasure even these years because we recognize we will not go on forever. “The living know that they will die” (Ecclesiastes 9:5). We sense our own end and experience the death of those we love.
In the season of Lent, we are asked to face the fact that, as human beings, we have a tremendous capacity to ruin things. Francis Spufford, in his book Unapologetic, observed, “It’s our active inclination to break stuff, ‘stuff’ here including moods, promises, relationships we care about, and our own well-being and other people’s, as well as material objects whose high gloss positively seems to invite a big fat scratch.” Not only do we have this capacity, but the tendency to foul things up often gets the better of us.
And as human beings, we are capable of taking flight. In the course of my ministry, I changed the traditional greeting on Ash Wednesday from “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” to “You are dust and stardust.” Yes, we are fragile and finite and foul things up. And we are made of the same material as the stars that shine at night. The image of God remains within us. “Then God said, ‘Let us make humans in our image’” (Genesis 1:26). The Spirit of God breezes through our souls. “Then the Lord God formed [the human] from the dust of the ground and breathed into [the human’s] nostrils the breath of life” (Genesis 2:7).
Humans are this incredibly complex tapestry of fragility, finitude, tendency to foul things up, and capacity to take flight and soar. A favorite psalm of mine captures this well: “What are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God” (Psalm 8:4-5). In Lent, we ponder the incredible complexity of who we are and our relationship to the God who created us and redeems us in Jesus Christ.
Lent invites us to do more than reflect upon our human reality. It encourages us, by the grace of God in Jesus and the power of God’s Spirit, to develop character qualities befitting such self-knowledge.
Knowing that we are fragile and finite, knowing that we can and do foul things up, yet knowing that we are capable of incredible acts of kindness, creativity, beauty, justice, compassion, courage, and love, Lent invites us to lean into these qualities. We are sometimes frail, we don’t have forever, and we will mess things up sometimes, but in the span of our lives, we can make a difference. We can do justice, love kindness, and grow with the grace of God. “Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind” (1 Peter 3:8).
In Lent, we acknowledge that we can be both cruel and kind. In a world where cruelty often seems to have the upper hand, Lent encourages us to lean into kindness by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we acknowledge that we can be both callous and tender. In a world that often encourages callousness and defensiveness, Lent encourages us to lean into tenderness by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we acknowledge that we can be both self-centered and compassionate. In a world where care is often constricted, Lent encourages us to lean into compassion by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we acknowledge that we can be both narrow-minded and deeply reflective. In a world where too many spend reflective time in echo chambers that never deepen thinking, Lent encourages us to lean into reflectiveness and thoughtfulness by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we acknowledge how often we are trapped in ways of thinking that demean and divide us from others. Yet we have an incredible capacity to overcome such divisions and build community. In a world where demeaning rhetoric is all too common and multiple tribalisms seem ascendant, Lent encourages us to lean into beloved community by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we acknowledge that we can be both unloving, even hateful, and deeply loving, gentle and caring. In a world where hate remains too strong and people are so willing to appeal to our deep animosities, Lent encourages us to lean into love by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit.
In Lent, we have the opportunity again to look deeply at our frailties and failings and recognize that even amid such, God does amazing things in us and through us. And God is not done with us.
I know there is much going on in the world, and there are events about which I have commented. A critical part of our response to distressful currents is continuing to develop into the kind of people God intends us to be in Jesus Christ. The world needs this kind of people. I invite you to observe a holy Lent.