Whenever it’s time to pack for a trip, I always pack too much. I’ll admit it. That might not be a problem for everyone, but I’ll admit it, I always stuff too much in there. Rarely do I bring exactly what I need, which, truth be told, is really not much at all. I drag around with me that extra jacket, an extra pair of pants, or a whole other set of shoes. And that’s just clothes, I’ll throw in a few extra packs of shampoo or soap. And when I get home after the trip and unpack, there are things in there I never even touched.
I’ve dragged too much extra stuff all over Europe and Central America; and I can overburden our family when we’ve traveled in our little Toyota across the country. I have yet to perfect the art of packing only what I need for the journey.
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I guess I think I’m afraid I won’t be OK, if I don’t have extra.
“What if I need it? Just in case,” I justify.
And then you know the funny thing? Despite all that extra packing, there’s always something that I really do need, that I don’t have.
Friends in Christ, welcome to the season of Lent!
Lent is often envisioned as a journey, a 40-day journey, into the wilderness. (40 days because of Jesus’ 40-day period of temptation in the wilderness—we’ll hear that this coming Sunday. Also 40 days because of the Israelites 40 years of wandering in the desert.)
And it all starts today, Ash Wednesday — for those who want to participate. It’s not for everyone. In fact, most opt out. That’s one of the things that I love about Lent actually — as opposed to, say, Christmas, where everyone is caught up in one way or another. Observing Lent, on the other hand, is much more under cover — especially given this Gospel from Matthew text: we don’t practice Lent out in front of people — sure we do the ashes (and lots of jokes there about how public that is), but really that’s also about our own self — it’s an outward sign of the inward work that’s before us. As as far as the whole season of Lent goes, we do it quietly, behind closed doors and with no fanfare. The rest of the world continues as usual, but we mark and travel a Lenten journey.
So how shall we pack, I’ve asked before?
Lent is a time for letting go of all the extras in our life. Traditionally Lent observers giving up things, we can fast. Mother Teresa said, “God cannot fill what is already full.”
And we are full, aren’t we? Even in these lean times? Mother Teresa was right, there’s not much room for God.
We are “stuffed” in so many ways: Stuffed with food, stuffed with things in our closets and garages, stuffed with ego, stuffed with desires, stuffed with fear, stuffed with worry. “What if I need it? Just in case. But it means so much to me.” What might you release, what extras might you shave away so that God can fill you?
See, in all our overpacking, the one thing that we do need gets left out...or just squeezed in at the last minute. I don’t think we leave God out...but...how we can just squeeze God in at the last minute.
The grace, the peace of Christ can just get stuffed into the outside pocket of our lives, like that last-minute pair of socks that I almost forgot. So then grace and peace, the central gift of Jesus becomes just one more thing that I drag around — dangling, could fall out, can’t enjoy because I’ve got so much other stuff.
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Siblings in Christ, Lent is a time to empty our bags, take stock — and lighten up. Ever travelled light? Rick Steves is fond of saying, “No ever gets back from a trip and says, ‘You know, I wish I had carried more stuff.’” The gift of Lent is in the lightening up, the clearing out, the cutting back, the fasting. It’s in the giving up, in the quieting down, and the opening of our hands in prayer and our ears in attentiveness. Theologian Paul Tillich said, “We are most powerful, not when we possess, but when we wait.”
How will you keep Lent? I hope you do.
If you choose to give something up or take something on (like walking or gardening or meditating), do it because it will ultimately clear some space for God’s full grace and deep peace in your life. If your Lenten discipline becomes just one more thing on your to-do list, then it’s already become just one more item you’re stuffing in your luggage.
Somehow Lent and its disciplines got to be burdensome…all about gloom and doom, more weight on our shoulders, when Lent is, in fact, the Old English word for “springtime”!
Are the trees in my back yard all about gloom and doom because they have no leaves right now? Or are they incredible because, if I look closer, I can spot the tiny brown buds on every little branch, they’re not dead and depressing, but rather something is happening beneath the surface! That’s Lent!
Lent is a gift. Packing light is a gift. Clearing out is a gift. It means there’s room being made for something to happen — for God’s ever-present grace and peace to move in and take over our lives in Christ Jesus.
But first, we have to get honest. It comes not when we’re proud and bloated and too busy to let go. We have to be honest — that’s what the ashes are all about.
It’s hard to be honest: “We almost have to woo humility during Lent.” Honesty can be like a skiddish deer at the brook: you have to be patient and still before our humility tiptoes out. The ashes are a little like bait, as they scratch across our foreheads, the humility, our honesty before God can creep into the light. Oh yeah, I am self-centered, I am neglectful of my relationships and of care for my own body, and of care for God’s planet. Oh yeah, I have fallen short at trusting Jesus, at letting go of my many treasures... [pause] This is our confession. Step one of the Lenten journey: Ash Wednesday. Gotta remember, before we heal. Gotta be honest. Ash Wednesday, we get our bodies into it: kneel, feel the ashes, hear the words “remember that your are dust,” see that cross in the mirror...and also smell the oil of healing.
Christ abides with us into this journey.
Christ awaits our unpacking, and guides us into the springtime. So we follow, and as we go, we go lighter.
Amen.
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