The First Sunday of
Lent
21st February
2010 9:00am Sung Eucharist
Preacher: The Revd. Canon Prof. Martyn Percy
Not
that long ago, we engaged in an amusing experiment in the Percy household. We were interested in Laura Doyle’s
bestseller, The Surrendered Wife. The book is anti-feminist, and its
message counter-cultural; you keep your man (or husband) by saying ‘yes’ – not
‘maybe’, or ‘no’. Women are to
forget about breaking through the glass ceiling in their careers, and instead
concentrate the cobwebs on the ceiling at home; and focus on their man. Performing miracles in the kitchen, we
are told, will soon lead to happiness in all aspects of married life. The book took
To be
serious for a moment. I am willing
to bet that nearly everyone has tried, at some time or other, a new diet book,
a self-help book, or a new form of therapy that ‘guarantees’ success. The culture of self help books is not
new. They have been going well
since the 1950s: remember Charles Atlas?
But in the last 20 years, there has been a huge expansion in the market
for self-help/quick-fix/DIY/Diet/Super-Excellence/How to Get to the Top/books,
CD’s and DVD’s. All promise instant
results; even a money back guarantee if not fully satisfied.
Strangely,
our Gospel reading today offers some helpful hints and wisdom as we enter Lent. We are reminded that Jesus was
tempted. And we are reminded to
repent. Because the temptations
that Jesus are offered all cluster round seminal issues that are not that alien
to our culture: diet – you will
perform miracles with food; career – you will rule; and longevity – you will
live.
Yet the
temptations are more subtle than they first appear. For a start, like all true temptations,
they are not ridiculous, but only slightly less true than something more
worthy. These temptations are all
things that Jesus will have to negotiate in any case. But the questions are: Will the end
justify the means? Is the shortcut
worth it? Does what is offered
really match what is true?
After
all, Jesus does perform miracles with food – he feeds thousands with a few
loaves. Has he not succumbed to the
tempter here? Does Jesus not get to
be lifted up, and glorified? What
then is the tempters’ problem? It
is only giving Jesus his due a little earlier – like opening the Christmas
presents the day before. Does Jesus
not throw himself before to the Romans, perhaps knowing he will be raised up? Why not simply prove it now? In one way, you could say that Jesus
lives his life giving in to the temptations; for he does test God; he does
concoct some food into more; and he does rule and reign.
But the
key is timing. The
First, shortcuts don’t usually work –
they cheat the faith journey.
Second, God’s work is slow; the Christian life is a marathon, not a
sprint. Discipleship and holiness
are built slowly, with years of patience, practice and learning. Lent is about this. Lent can’t be done in ten days or two
minutes; its forty-plus. Short cuts
can cheapen a ministry. Third, shortcuts
rob other people of the chance to respond and grow. It is possible to grow a church, or a
College, or a ministry very quickly.
The results can be spectacular.
But now try and sustain it.
Not so easy. There is no
substitute for hard work. That’s
why miracle diets don’t really work.
So don’t try a 30 day wonder; slowly change the way you eat; effort and
will are better than quick-fix cures.
So in
one way, Lent is all about slowing down, and leaving quick-fix solutions
behind. It is about the patient deepening
of our relationship with God, and doing so in a thorough and methodical
way. The aim is not to achieve
instant success, but steady and deep growth. Fruit that lasts comes from hard graft. Jesus, in his Lent, turns his back on
instant glory, instant results and an easy, happy ending. He will be glorified; he will get
results; there will be a resurrection.
But it has to be in God’s time.
So,
Jesus is the archetype. In
surrendering his life to God, he turns his back on cutting corners, short cuts,
the end justifying the means, and our instant culture. Instead, he invites us all to walk,
slowly, with him to
In all
times and every situation, his advice is to repent. Not just the scribes and Pharisees, not
just the powerful – he tells even the poor and oppressed that repentance is the
key to life. Talk of repentance
makes modern-day Christians nervous, even squeamish. We are embarrassed by the
stereotype of old-fashioned preachers hammering on and on about sin, and making
people feel guilty. We rush to
assert that Jesus isn't really like that; he came out of love, he wants to help
us. He knows us deep inside and
feels our every pain, and his healing love sets us free. That’s true, of course. But this also needs to be set alongside
the fact that Repentance is the doorway to the spiritual life, the only way to
begin. It is also the path itself,
the only way to continue. Anything else is foolishness and self-delusion. Only
repentance is both brute-honest enough, and joyous enough, to bring us all the
way home. But how repentance could be either joyous or vibrantly true is a
foreign idea to most of us.
The starting point for the early church
was this awareness of the abyss of sin inside each person, the murky depths of
which only the top few inches are visible. God, who is all clarity and light,
wants to make us perfect as he is perfect, shot through with his radiance. The
first step in our healing, then, is not being comforted. It is taking a hard look at the
cleansing that needs to be done.
Interestingly, the ancient Christian
literature on repentance is really quite beautiful – full of simplicity,
humility, and spreading peace.
There is nothing in it of masochism or despair. Those who know
themselves to be so greatly forgiven are far from gloomy, but are flooded with
joy and deep tranquillity. Those who are forgiven much love much. They find it hard to hold grudges
against others; they find it hard to hold any thing in this life very
tightly. For the Christian, two things
seem to be ever linked: sorrow over sin, and gratitude for forgiveness. Repentance is the source of life and
joy.
Terms from the ancient
languages cast further light. The Greek word for repentance, metanoia, means
a transformation of the mind, whereby greater clarity and insight are obtained.
It doesn't refer to emotion.
Hermas, in his book The
Shepherd, written about A.D. 140, writes, ‘Repentance is great
understanding’. Repentance is insight, not emotion; it is understanding the
conditions that enslave and corrupt.
I once heard an enthusiastic preacher say, ‘Repentance means turning
yourself completely around. It means turning around 360 degrees’. I could only agree that, too often,
that's exactly what it means. Fr.
Alexander Men, an outspoken Russian priest who was assassinated in 1990 at the
end of Perestroika, wrote,
"The good news of Christ was
preceded by a call to repentance...and the very first word of Jesus' teaching
was 'Repent.' Remember that in Hebrew this word means 'turn around,' 'Turn away
from the wrong road.' While in the
Greek text of the Gospels, it is rendered by an even more resonant word, metanoite,
in other words, rethink your life. This is the beginning of
healing. Repentance is not a
sterile 'grubbing around in one's soul,' not some masochistic self-humiliation,
but a re- evaluation leading to action. ...The abscess must be lanced,
otherwise there will be no cure."
If we are resolved to move daily
further into union with Christ, we must be ready for a journey; to face our
sins, the things that hold us back, and to let God begin to heal them. Repentance is the way back to the
Father. It is both the door and the
path to a new life. And to have the
heart set on God is to choose wisdom, and to follow him who calls
us. Not to a life where desires are
fulfilled, but to one where the restless heart is finally set at ease and at
peace. And, criticaly, this takes
time. There are no short-cuts to deep, rich
discipleship, and a relationship of quality and depth with God. We need Lent to help us clear
things way; strip down; and focus afresh on God. R.S. Thomas, in his poem ‘The Bright
Field’, puts it well:
I
have seen the sun break through
to
illuminate a small field
for
a while, and gone my way
and
forgotten it. But that was the
pearl
of
great price, the one field that had
the
treasure in it. I realize now
that
I have to posses it. Life is not
hurrying
on
to a receding future, nor hankering
after
an
imagined past. It is the turning
aside
like Moses to the miracle
of
the lit bush, to a brightness
that
seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits
you.
Our questions
for Lent, then, are: can we turn aside from the world, that sometimes threatens
to seduce us all, and look for something deeper? Can we walk slowly and patiently with Jesus,
as we journey into Lent? Remember
what Jesus says to us all: ‘for where you treasure is, so will your heart be’.