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Lamentations 1:1-2

How lonely sits the city that was once full of people. Wow. So I’ve been trying to spend as much time outside with my family as possible because everyone seems to benefit from the space and the unconfined feeling. So during this time it means the yard. Our dog is very happy as she spends her time “hunting” for squirrels. The rest of us play, dig up weeds,  bask in the sun, and chat with neighbors and friends when they pass by. We stand 6 feet apart, across the fence from each other and grouse, commiserate, share updates and look for some silver linings in this experience. This a very important part of being outside—remembering that there are people out there. All the while the stream of ambulance sirens remind us that we aren’t just a happy family playing soccer in the yard. We are folks living in a global pandemic that will leave marks on all of us. The strangeness of the joy of being outside in the sun and the general feeling of something is closing in on us live side by side. We are people who are faithful, fearful and asking for God’s help.

I like the way the author of Lamentations personifies the city itself. I wonder what personified New York would be doing right now. Probably weeping. I wonder if boastful New York has anyone to comfort her? I wonder if she would accept help if she were offered any—she strikes me as someone who likes to be able to go it alone. But maybe now in this time, she sees how none of us can go it alone.

I’m very grateful for God right now. This morning during the reading of the passion I kept getting chills listening, feeling the reading was newly alive for me. I could connect in new and different ways to understanding what Jesus did for all of us and how God loves us.

Psalm 42  

¹ As the deer longs for the water-brooks, *
so longs my soul for you, O God.

² My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God; *
when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?

³ My tears have been my food day and night, *
while all day long they say to me,
"Where now is your God?"

⁴ I pour out my soul when I think on these things; *
how I went with the multitude and led them into the
house of God,

⁵ With the voice of praise and thanksgiving, *
among those who keep holy-day.

⁶ Why are you so full of heaviness, O my soul? *
and why are you so disquieted within me?

⁷ Put your trust in God; *
for I will yet give thanks to him,
who is the help of my countenance, and my God.

⁸ My soul is heavy within me; *
therefore I will remember you from the land of Jordan,
and from the peak of Mizar among the heights of Hermon.

⁹ One deep calls to another in the noise of your cataracts; *
all your rapids and floods have gone over me.

¹⁰ The Lord grants his loving-kindness in the daytime; *
in the night season his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.

¹¹ I will say to the God of my strength,
"Why have you forgotten me? *
and why do I go so heavily while the enemy
oppresses me?"

¹² While my bones are being broken, *
my enemies mock me to my face;

¹³ All day long they mock me *
and say to me, "Where now is your God?"

¹⁴ Why are you so full of heaviness, O my soul? *
and why are you so disquieted within me?

¹⁵ Put your trust in God; *
for I will yet give thanks to him,
who is the help of my countenance, and my God.

The comparison of the soul with a deer is the first thing that stands out to me in this text. A deer is an animal guided by natural instincts; similarly, our souls long for more primal satisfactions. And maybe we lose touch with this fundamental part of ourselves when we surround ourselves with layers of material comfort (a dwelling, a paying job, food in the pantry). As our world is turned upside down, all that brings us reassurance seems to be suddenly at risk of disappearing. It’s easy to let oneself go into a dark place and lose hope.

This text reminds us that no matter how hard we are tested, no matter how much the world is changing around us, our true selves do not change. When we lose sight of this and when we’re looking for a sign, for reassurance, we need to find the way back to our souls. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, we can’t predict how the coming months are going to be but “in the night season his song is with me”. That’s our faith and that doesn’t change. 

² Corinthians 4:1-12
 

⁴Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. ² Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. ³ And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. ⁴ The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. ⁵ For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. ⁶ For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”^[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.

⁷ But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. ⁸ We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; ⁹ persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. ¹⁰ We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. ¹¹ For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. ¹² So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

As I, and all of us, continue forth to the upcoming Holy Week, I am forced to think that this isn't what I imagined February 26 as Mother Sarah and I smudged crosses on each other's foreheads and on yours.  Each year we build on the previous, looking at what we have done, improving - thinking about what the experience will be for everyone and how we can get closer to Jesus, and yet now all is changed. As I prepare to enter into Holy Week, nothing seems familiar and I have to dig deep to re-imagine so much of these days ahead.  

My experience of the scriptures over these last two weeks in particular is also changed, having taken on new meaning and understanding - more urgency. Death is more present.  And this passage from 2 Corinthians reminds me that as death is more present, so too is life. 

Paul writes, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;  persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body."

Am I not feeling at moments crushed, in despair, abandoned and on the brink of destruction? I am.  And yet I try hard not to stay in those moments - lifted out by my faith that Jesus' resurrection is my hope for today, tonight and tomorrow - and all the tomorrows to come.  Life is at work in us, all of us - and the closer presence of death paradoxically makes me feel more present in my life - makes me feel more alive and when I allow it, allows me to feel closer to God. Life is pulsating all around - my eyes and my heart are more open to it than ever before. Life feels more precious and glorious than ever before. That light of Christ is shining brighter and stronger. God feels closer and the emotions evoked in Lent and Holy Week have a clarity to them - even in advance of Holy Week.