On the Eve of the 3rd Sunday of Lent, 2011

Every spring, millions of people in America
stop what they are doing to set
apart multiple times a week to
be shaped by a story.

The story is one of a journey,
and of conflict--of cosmic
proportions--the story is
celebrated by gatherings of
thousands, participation led
by trained professionals who
encourage active vocal praise
and exhortation, and broadcasts
that share the communal experience
with those who are homebound for
a variety of reasons.

There is intense loss and suffering
involved--felt and expressed in tears
and cries of anguish by the thousands
of participants--surprisingly, a majority
of which are men (or at least that's the
stereotype). There is also unbounded
rejoicing--especially at the final victory,
which lies at the end of the long, arduous
journey that leads through countless trials
of suffering and hardship. Much self-sacrifice
is required of the main characters in this story--
as well as those who follow it, allowing it the space
needed to shape their life--multiple gatherings
centering the story's text, actively participating
in the spirit of the story, praying for the ultimate
victory--for they have made the story their story--
most have chosen sides in the conflict, and have
vested vast amounts of emotional energy in the long
journey towards overcoming the final enemy.

At first there seems to be multiple competing parties
or camps vying with the hero for the victory, but towards
the end it becomes clear there is only one foe to vanquish.

When the victory is won and the musicians blare the hero's
hymn, grown men fall to their knees crying tears of
thankfulness and praise to the victor. Or they might dance
a dance of exultation or raise their voice as one in celebration:
the fight has been won, the battle is over!

Grown men and women, who teach their sons and daughters
that one of the most important things in life is the annual celebration
of the story, and how wonderful it is to talk about it all the time:
when you rise up, when you lie down, and when you walk in the way.

The victor has overcome.

Or victors, I could say.
Because the victor, or mascot, is actually a symbol of the team
of victorious basketball players who have completed the long,
arduous journey to the Final Four playoffs.

This victor isn't Christ, and the followers aren't the Church of Christ.

This isn't Lent, and we're not headed towards Good Friday and Easter.

This is March Madness, and it's Final Four or bust, baby.

So get your game on.

Yea.

Ash Wednesday, 2011

From Psalm 103, the eighth through the fourtheenth verse:



"The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.

He will not always chide:
neither will he keep his anger for ever.

He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

For as the heaven is high above the earth,
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.

As far as the east is from the west,
so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.

Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.

For he knoweth our frame;
he remembereth that we are dust."


God remembers that we are dust.



"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" are the words from the imposition of the ashes in the Ash Wednesday Liturgy.


The connection between these two texts was impressed upon me tonight.
Just something to think about.