The Comma

Two nights ago we celebrated Fat Tuesday at the church with a supper that included chocolate chip pancakes in the shape of fish!  Yesterday we gathered for a service of worship that concluded with the imposition of ashes on our foreheads, ashes made from burning the palms from last year’s Palm Sunday worship.  And this morning we woke up to snow, returned as if to remind us that winter is not yet over, and nature herself is still holding our hearts to the cold.  Welcome to Lent.

Enough people in our church now know about my practice of giving up chocolate for Lent that I get asked about it regularly- both the why and the how questions.  The “how” is the easier one to explain.  When Lent begins, I either give away or “secure” all my chocolate.  This morning I picked up the last two chocolate bars in my house (I bought four on Saturday and intended to get through all of them, but I forgot to take these last two into work this week so they survived) and lovingly, longingly placed them in the freezer.  (Well, actually I just tossed them in, but there is some love and some longing right now as I write this.)  There they will rest until Easter Sunday when I take them out and break my fast.  The same will go for all the Girl Scout cookies I will buy next month- I am a sucker for any Girl Scout selling cookies and never say “no.”   And any other chocolate stuff I accumulate between now and April 12^th.  My freezer is my “chocolate safe,” in much the same way that my microwave is my “dog safe”- that’s where I put food I want to leave out of the refrigerator but that might tempt my good dog Lizzie to be not-so-good and jump up on the counter for a treat while I’m away.  Once she even got a pot roast that was defrosting on top of the refrigerator!  But that is a whole other post.  Back to the topic at hand.

But the “why” of this “frozen chocolate for Jesus” is harder to explain.  I have as much trouble as anyone with mindless rituals, and the idea of giving something up for Lent as a sign of dedication or a show of repentance has never appealed to me.  And the very conservative church where I learned my first lessons in Christianity definitely did not acknowledge the season of Lent or any of its practices- it isn’t in the Bible after all.

So what compels me every year in the late winter to give away my chocolate or put it in the chocolate safe?  This spiritual practice in Lent has become a way for me to experience (and not just “think about”) the rhythms of my faith journey.  It has become a way for me to notice, in my mind and in my body, that something is different.  It has become a way for me to “pay attention.”  Life is not all chocolate after all.  There are “unsweet” times we all go through.  And with this practice during lent I learn (again, in more than my head) that even the unsweet times have a gift.  And I will survive.  And finally, on Easter day (and what day could be more appropriate?) there is a sweetness that I notice, that I actually taste instead of mindlessly consuming, that is the final gift of the journey.

Of course there is more to say.  And maybe you reading this have something to say too.  Comment if you would like, or tell about your own Lenten practice, whether “giving up,” or “taking up” or “making room.” 

I mentioned in my post last week that I am currently reading Team of Rivals, the book about Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  Last week I was about half way through.  Now I am three quarters of the way.  It is a long book.  But it is also a page turner- I have enjoyed it immensely.  And today is the two hundredth anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s birth.  So as I consider what I am learning about the man, and about our nation one hundred and fifty years ago, this feels like a good time to reflect. 

First, it is striking to me how simplified the story of Lincoln and his era has become through the years.  I had no idea how controversial Lincoln’s election and his presidency were.  And people back then said very harsh things about each other.  Lincoln’s critics make today’s radio talk show pundants seem very mild in comparison. 

Second, I am struck by the gradual way Lincoln moved in his attitudes toward slavery, emancipation, and equality.  At the beginning of his presidency, Lincoln was willing to allow slavery to continue in the states where it already existed, if such action could hold the union together and prevent war.  There was a sense in many places that those who favored freedom for slaves were “radicals” and “extremists.”   Frederick Douglass did not like Lincoln or what he had to say early on in his presidency.  And many abolitionists decried the Emancipation Proclamation because it only freed slaves in the rebel states, and not in the slave holding states that stayed in the Union. 

But thirdly, I am struck by Lincoln’s gracious leadership.  He really did put together a “team of rivals.”  He listened to those who disagreed with him.  When Lincoln and Frederick Douglass finally met, Douglass was deeply impressed by Lincoln’s thoughtful and generous manner, and became a supporter.  He was charitable toward those who considered him their enemy.  He was a clever politician, yes, but he sought to be faithful to what was right.  Lincoln, speaking of his reasons for working with the “radical abolitionists,” said  “While they might be the unhandiest devils in the world to deal with their faces are set Zionwards.”  And even though he took time to get to his positions on slavery, emancipation and equality, when he got there, he acted with conviction, and was not swayed by political winds. He too kept his face “set Zionwards.”

As a nation, we owe Lincoln a great deal.  Not only for the fact that he “preserved the union,” but for how he did it.  Not only for the fact that he led this nation at a time of one of its greatest crises, but for how he led it.  Not only for the way he steered this country, but the course unto which he steered us.  Lincoln was not a saint, after all.  He was a flawed human being.   

But he kept trying to find the Zionward direction, and then to be faithful in going that way.  Which is good for me to remember- as human and as seeking as I am as well. 

So Happy Birthday, Abraham, and Happy Lincoln’s Birthday to us all.

Welcome back to those who are coming just to see if I will my Thursday noon deadline (see last week’s blog). As I prepare to post this I realize I will not be prompt, but I will be very, very close ignore the time above that says it is after 8 p.m.  I don’t know why that’s there- is it GMT?  Here at my desk in Seattle, it is about 12:15.)

And welcome to any other readers who just wandered in too.

This weekend our congregation is hosting a visit by Marcus Borg, who will be speaking some good theology to us. And in anticipation of that feast, I just want to say thanks, because I know that good theology saves lives.

Yes, I am aware that there are a great deal of issues that can be addressed with or without good theology. When hungry people are fed, when the homeless poor find a safe place to spend the night, when lonely people are visited, often theology does not come into it.

However, sometimes theology makes all the difference. Consider these two brief examples that I have encountered in the past week.

Right now I am reading through Team of Rivals, the 700 plus pages tome by Doris Kearns Goodwin about Abraham Lincoln and his cabinet. Throughout that book (so far- I am only half way through) I keep hearing references to bad theology that not only justified slavery, but taught that people who had managed to escape their enslavement and make it to freedom had to be “returned!” I also am reading about some good theology that was a critical part of the movement to end of slavery in this country. Good theology saves lives.

And any of you who read the book Prayers for Bobby know the story of Bobby Griffith, a young gay man who in 1983, at the age of 20, committed suicide. In the book, his mother Mary talks about her perspective on God’s will that led her to push and push and push on Bobby to “change,” promoting in him a self-hate that he could not find a way to escape. (That book has just been made into a movie, starring Sigourney Weaver, is why it’s on my mind). Our congregation, with its affirmation of heterosexual people and gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered people offers refuge to people who have been deeply wounded by bad theology. Good theology saves lives.

Of course there are many other illustrations. But if I go on too much more I will be way past my noon deadline, so I will leave it to you to reflect on how good theology has been healing for you, maybe even life-saving.

And thank you Jesus Study Group (the folks sponsoring Marcus Borg’s visit here) and thank you good theologians of all stripes, for pointing us to the love and justice that are the heart of our faith.