The Second Sunday in Lent

 

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. [BCP 218]

Life can be quite amusing at times. For years, I have identified one of God’s greatest attributes with this line: The glory of God is his mercy. That’s been my default marker for proclaiming the gospel for as long as I can remember. So many people have come to me over the years asking if they will be saved, or if they will have a chance of going to heaven, and I have assured and reassured each one, every time: The glory of God is God’s mercy. Of course you’re saved; of course you’re going to heaven; of course God will welcome you with open arms and a loving embrace.

I always thought I was quoting scripture, even though I could never find that passage in the Psalms, Proverbs, Isaiah, or any of the other prophets. I’ve tried to find the passage using concordances and Bible reference materials. I’ve even tried online Bible references and a variety of search engines. I could never find it and just chalked it up to my lousy research skills. Some things just lie beyond my grasp.

Then, as I began working my way through this series of meditations based upon the Sunday Collects, I found the source of what I’d been saying all along. It’s right here in the Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent (and not a direct quote from the Bible): “O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy …”

People often ask what Episcopalians believe, and while we aren’t a “confessional” church, as such, one can find our theology as we define and express it throughout the Book of Common Prayer (the BCP). Our beliefs are contained within our prayers. They are rich, deep, and sometimes contradictory. But so is life. God, who told the first couple, “The day you eat of it (the “forbidden” fruit), you shall die,” changed their divine mind. 

Our relationship with God is complex. It’s also quite simple. A number of well-known and respected theologians have admitted that their faith can be best summed up in the words of that children’s hymn, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to God belong, we are weak, but God is strong. Yes! Jesus loves me!!!”

I worry the church has historically done such a good job of identifying every sin imaginable, that many have simply given up trying to come to any understanding of what it means to be a Christian. Are you lazy? Sloth!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do your eyes go looking where they shouldn’t? Lust!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do you get mad? Wroth (Anger)!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do you sometimes feel superior to others (politically, socially, economically – come on, now; let’s be truthful)? Pride!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Shall I go on? We still have Envy, Gluttony, and Greed to top off the list of cardinal sins. Don’t let me get started on the venial sins – oy vey!

I heard a lot about sin, growing up, and while I can rattle off the cardinal sins from memory (I use a mnemonic tool: SLAPEGG (Sloth, Lust, Anger, Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Greed), but I have no idea what the cardinal virtues are. I presume there are some, but I haven’t got a list. I presume love and humility are in there somewhere, and maybe patience, but I haven’t got time to go looking for them right now.

So we know how bad people are. We can point out their faults with gusto. What I don’t know is why we focus more on sin and less on grace. The glory of God is God’s mercy. That line has struck me and stayed with me since forever. It’s one of those things I need to hear over and over to believe it. I believe it is true; to the core of my soul I believe it. It’s the curmudgeon who dances the Tarantella between my ears, who points out all those things that prick my conscience that I need to learn to put into Time Out.

“You’re not good enough,” he says. OK. I can live with that. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

The season of Lent is a struggle for many people because they (or we) are being told we are sinners, as if we don’t already know that. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” is Lent’s battle cry. OK, sure. I can live with that. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy!

That is why our prayer continues: “Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways …” God knows what we’re like. It’s not like God flings open a door and goes, “Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t know you were in there.” 

God knows, for the most part, that we are doing the best we can. Love God? OK, I do and will do the best I can. Sometimes I’ll have some doubts; other times I’ll have lots of doubts. But for the most part, I love God as best I can. I worship. I pray. I say grace at meals. I bring my offerings to church. I sing the hymns (including those I don’t really like). I devote as much time to loving God as best I can. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

Love one’s neighbor? OK, I do the best I can. I don’t go out of my way to irritate or antagonize people around me, but I suppose I could do more to love them. It’s hard, though. Lord, you KNOW some of my neighbors. Yet, not my will but (sigh) your will be done. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

Love myself? OK, that’s a bit tougher. Sometimes my ego gets in the way. Sometimes it's my history. Other times it’s my future (or lack) that draws my attention from full-on loving myself. I mean, I know me. How can I love me, knowing all that? I know what goes on in my mind. Still, if you, Great God of all that is, seen and unseen, can have mercy on me, and love me, and want me to sit at table with you in the great banquet that follows my romping through the valley of the shadow of death, who am I to question your command? So I try. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

That’s why we continue our prayer: “bring them (us) again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word …” We don’t ask God to let us wallow in our guilt. We conduct a fearless and moral inventory of our lives (which inventories both the good and the bad, the sick and the sad) and we turn our will and our lives (with everything in them) over to the care of God, and trust that God knows what to do with those self-same lives. God will root through our attics, crawl spaces, dungeons and play rooms, toss out all the trash, and hold fast (embrace, hug) what’s left: You. Me. God’s very own treasure!

I guess that’s why I love Lent. These prayers remind us that the glory of God is God’s mercy. We don’t stand before God quivering in our boots, fearing the fiery torments of hell. No, we stand before God, fresh from our baths, dressed as knights in white satin, children of God’s kingdom and reign, jewels in God’s very own crown.

Merciful heavens: the glory of God IS God’s mercy!

Amen