In another section of the Scribe there is an article about the origins of the Season of Lent. But there is another way to explain it.  This author suggests that Lent came about because Christians had become far too comfortable with their faith.

  After the initial rush of Christian enthusiasm was over and Christ did not return as he said he would and Christianity became the religion of the empire, believers started to become very ho-hum about their faith.  “They hung a wooden cross on the wall,” the author writes, “and settled back into their more or less comfortable routines, remembering their once passionate devotion to God the way they remembered the other enthusiasms of their youth.  Oh, to be young again and believe that everything is possible.  Little by little, Christians became devoted to their comforts instead: the soft couch, the flannel sheets, the leg of lamb roasted with rosemary.  These things made them feel safe and cared for – if not by God, then by themselves.  They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian, and before long it was very hard to pick them out from the population at large.  They no longer distinguished themselves by their bold love for one another.  They did not get arrested for championing the poor.  They blended in.  They avoided extremes.  They decided to be nice instead of holy and God groaned out loud.

  Hearing that, someone suggested that it was time to call Christians back to their senses, and the Bible offered some clues about how to do that.”  Israel spent forty years in the wilderness learning what it meant to be God’s peculiar people and learning to trust God.  Moses spent forty days on Mt. Sinai listening to God, and Elijah spent forty days on the same mountain waiting for the still, small voice of God.  And then there was Jesus: forty days in the wilderness preparing for his ministry, being put to the test.

  And so Lent came about to help Christians find out what they were made of, if they had what it took, if they still had the commitment and passion and the willingness to be uncomfortable.    This same author also points out that, interestingly enough, the word lent comes from the old English word meaning “spring,” and so Lent is meant to be not simply the season of spring before Easter, “but also an invitation to a springtime for the soul.”  It is a time to cleanse the system, be refreshed with new faith and passion.  It is a time to rediscover what we can be in the power of God.  Who we truly are and can be.

  But how do we actually do that?  Well, a theologian made a suggestion 150 years ago that I think is still a good suggestion.  He wrote, “Ah, it gets so turned around!  We think that religiousness, instead of being a matter of every individual’s going alone into his private room to talk softly with himself, is a matter of talking very loudly.”  And it still gets turned around today.  Many still think that religiousness – following Christ, being Christian – is a matter of talking very loudly about how much he or she believes, what a fine Christian person he or she is, how much they love Jesus.  Or think that Christians are formed by talking very loudly, even shouting, threatening, pounding the pulpit, condemning, coercing, cajoling people to believe and behave in a certain way.  But if ever our lives are to conform to Christ, it will be because we each go into our private room and talk softly with ourselves about some things.  The same theologian also wrote this: “Busyness makes it almost impossible to form a heart.”  And that’s also still true 150 years later.  When we are busy with a million thoughts, a million demands and things to do, and a million worries too, or just busy with this or that, busy running here and there – and not even sure why – busy with things that perhaps do not matter much but afraid to stop, needing to stay busy, it’s almost impossible to form a heart: to know what we love or should love, the wants that matter, or to have room for Christ and grow in faith and know hope, courage, joy.

  And so, somehow that’s what we must do during Lent: talk softly with ourselves about some things; quiet for a moment our busy lives and our busy minds and seek to form our heart anew.  And maybe that will mean taking the time, making the time, to come  on Wednesday evenings and think and pray and talk with ourselves and commune.  Or maybe it will mean taking time, making time, each day to talk softly with ourselves and form our hearts around Christ.  Or doing something else that helps us stop for a while and come to our senses.  To ask who we are, what we are made of.

  And what are we to talk about with ourselves?  Only each of us can answer that for ourselves.  But here are some starters.  Do we seek to be comfortable more than committed, have we lost our passion for Christ, would anyone pick us out of the crowd because of our faith and kindness and compassion?  Have we come to worship success, security, money in the bank to the point that we have compromised our belief and no longer live with bold love – blend in rather than stand out?  Do we ever champion the poor, cry out against injustice, work to bring reconciliation and peace, protest prejudice and cruelty, stand for what is good and right?  Is there anything we so passionately believe in we would risk ourselves, even give our lives for the sake of?

  To ask ourselves such things, talk softly with ourselves about such things, is to be refreshed with new faith and passion.

  And to hear God no longer groan out loud but laugh with joy because of what we are once again.