The Third Sunday in Lent

Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. [BCP 218]

Some years ago I served a congregation in a remote part of the land. It was my habit to schedule and celebrate the Mass on Christmas mornings. The services were always sparsely attended, especially in such a remote and rural environment, but someone always showed up. Some would ask if it was worth it, from the turnout, or lack thereof. I’d answer “Yes.” I wasn’t responsible for the turnout. I was responsible for providing the service.

Years earlier I was between parishes and Christmas fell on a Sunday. The priest in charge announced he was giving the church that Sunday morning off (since there would be a Christmas eve service the night before). I spoke to him after service and said I would be happy to celebrate mass on Christmas morning for those who might come because it WAS a Sunday morning, or because they couldn’t attend the Christmas Eve service. He gave it a nano-second of thought and said, “No, I made my decision. The church will be closed as my present to them.” I said, “My service would be my gift to the parish. I’d love to do it.” He turned his back and said, No.” I was greatly disappointed; my countenance fell in a manner of biblical proportions.

Getting back to my rural parish, I arrived one Christmas morning and was joined by a couple who were active in and members of a church that does not share communion with Episcopalians. They have a closed altar, and members are not allowed to receive communion outside their own parish, even within their own denomination. Still, it was Christmas morning, and they wanted to worship, and I was offering what their own church wasn’t. We celebrated the birth of Jesus together, and when it was time for communion, I invited them to come forward, for that is our custom. They declined, so I received communion by myself. When I was finished, I offered the same blessing that I have offered for decades (The peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge of love God and of His Son, Jesus Christ, and the blessing of God Almighty, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be upon you, and remain with you always). I thanked them earnestly for joining me for the service and shared a little-known factoid with them.

“I appreciate your being here. In our tradition, a priest cannot receive communion alone. We need a community to gather, just as Jesus said, ‘Where two or three are gathered, I am there.’ Your being here was a gift that allowed me to more fully enjoy Christmas. You are, and have been, a real blessing!”

 “Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves …” 

It would be silly to say we have NO power .. if we meant it literally. We do have some power, each of us. I can read, write, and do sums (with the help of a calculator these days). Most of my decisions are morally upright and are done without either carrot or stick, so I’d be hard pressed to say I have no power to help myself or others. That isn’t the point here, of course.

The point here is that we are who we are, and while we may have some volitional power to do many things, we require the help of God to get us over the hump at times. It is God who provides insight into what must be done. My temptation – my GREAT temptation – is to take shortcuts and do things the easy, convenient way. I have never been one to make waves, and prefer the life of a chameleon – out of sight and out of mind.

The point of our prayer is to engage in self-reflection, as persons, and as a community. We sometimes forget that the Collects are our prayers as a community. It’s not enough to pray for ourselves alone, but for the whole Body. We, as a people, often do not have the power or strength to help ourselves, for many reasons. I know what I think, but I can’t know what you think (unless we talk). 

“A convoy moves only as fast as the slowest ship,” said my father when I was growing up. “A chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” he added from his repertoire of folk wisdom. 

The Church is often paralyzed into inaction because we’re not sure what God is asking of us. I was in a diocese where we were always in discernment, and our bishop absolutely loved the discernment process, but we never implemented any changes; we never made any forward progress. It was always planning, planning, and more planning, but never any doing. It felt like too much do-do!

“Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves …” 

I suspect God, if God is God at all, is well aware of our tendency to hesitate, to pause, reflect, and worry about getting everyone onboard before doing anything different, anything new, or anything brave for God’s sake. So on this third Sunday in Lent, we confess our powerlessness, because we really are powerless. “We are weak, but God is strong,” we sing.

It’s not enough to confess our weakness, though. God: what are you going to do about it? So our prayer continues:

“Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls …”

“Keep.” I like that word. It reminds me of the inner fortress in The Lord of the Rings. The castle keep was the inner bulwark to which the people fled when they became overwhelmed in their outer defenses. 

God, we pray, give us a safe haven when we are being overwhelmed. So often we rely on our own power, our own strength, our own wiles to survive. Certainly they are part of what we bring to the table. But it is easier to make wise decisions if we can do so from a safe place. The safest place to be is alongside God – looking to God for comfort, strength, and courage. So we pray, first of all, for God to gather us in. When scared, is there anyplace more comforting than being snuggled up in the lap of Mom or Dad? “God,” we pray, “let us snuggle with thee.”

My mother, reading to her grandkids

“that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul …”

Stuff happens. The earth quakes, the winds blow, the storms come and go, diseases plague us. I confess I don’t ask God to protect me from death or pain. I am disturbed by a theology where a survivor thanks God for protecting them, when a thousand around them were killed by the crashing airplane or sudden tsunami. I just want God to keep on holding on to us when catastrophes befall us, so that we need have no fear that we’ve lost God’s loving care.

The same is true for the Church – the Body of Christ. It has faced adversity from time immemorial, from schisms, heresies, martyrdom, gross abuses from within, really bad attitudes towards those not like us, financial stresses (always), etc. God, we need your help from these things, especially!

As for evil thoughts, God also knows how we feel about people and situations that offend us. “Turn the other cheek?” I think not. Go the extra mile? Heck no. Bless those who curse us? I prefer the heaping, burning coals on their head approach! “So God, when it comes to the sickness of my ‘tude, I’m a gonna need your help!”

Our temptation is to hang onto those thoughts and ask God’s forgiveness. But our prayer isn’t to put our evil thoughts into Pandora’s Tupperware. No, we ask God to heal us to where those thoughts become further and fewer between. For that, I AM helpless; we ARE helpless. And so we ask God at this mid-point in Lent to help us. Help us REALIZE we really need God’s help to be more Christ-like in our walk with thee.

Amen.