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Isaiah 58.1-10

Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.

I find this passage both humbling and empowering. The prophet seems to be mocking a somewhat whiny people—“Why do we fast” they say to God, “and you do not see.” The prophet is setting up mirror for the crowd, saying listen to yourself, you are disappointed in God for not doing things your way. I can relate! I find myself sometimes thinking, aren’t I doing all the things? The praying, the church-ing, the caring…that’s the stuff, right?! Yet still, I struggle, still I have worries, losses, insecurities, and pain; still somedays I feel so tired and worn down. And especially now, in this pandemic I find myself in this place quite a bit. Throughout the pandemic I have continued to pray, tried to be faithful, kept serving my patients at the hospital; yet still I am separated from family and friends, still I am experiencing loss, still I am exhausted. This is so unfair!

The prophet responds…”Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day.” Your dedication is self-centered, your worship is ego-driven. It sounds a bit harsh, but I think actually this is quite an easy trap to fall into. Fasting is not appearing a certain way before God or before others or before ourselves in order to receive something of our choosing. Spiritual practices are not transactional arrangements. The prophet is calling their listeners to take a look at their own hearts—what is your motivation. Why are you doing this—what is it actually for? And I think it’s a good lesson or even challenge to for us to consider. When we think of the spiritual practices we chose this Lent, do they have anything to do with anyone else besides ourselves? The prophet guides us further, explaining the kinds of motivations he believes should be at the heart of worship and spiritual practice: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

So maybe we can ask ourselves, what is the true intention behind our spiritual practices this year? If we notice they are mostly about myself getting closer to God, or myself simplifying, or myself finding some peace; maybe we contemplate how these practices also may impact the world around us. How prayer can change the decisions we make, or our kindnesses or generosity towards others. How simplifying our life, may create more for us to offer those in need. How seeking peace for myself can make me more patient, and more aware of the world around me. We can expand our vision of these practices so that our intentions reach the world around us.

Our spiritual practices or Lenten practices are for this, for cultivating not only our spirits, but also our choices, our priorities, our vision of the world so that we might be people who create the Kin-dom of God. When we do these practices, we are not making deals with God or expecting God to make our lives easier because of our dedication; we are hoping to be shaped and molded by God, better equipped to endure the difficulties that come; wiser, braver, more awake to injustices, more prone to act—and all of this, ultimately, bringing us most alive. For as the prophet promises, when we live into this just, free, equitable and connected vision of community “Then, then your light shall break forth,” healing springs up, and God will be close saying, “Here I am.”

John 12.35-36

Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.

I knew the church building of my childhood like the back of my hand. My father was a pastor and so both my parents spent full Sunday mornings at post-church coffee hours and elders’ meetings and potlucks. I attended for as long as I could but spent most of my time exploring the building. The church was filled with backstage wooden staircases, hidden closets, and doorways, invisible to the untrained eye. I loved to roam around in that church. One of my favorite places was a triangular closet, wedged beneath a stairway—a storage place for holiday decorations. It was completely dark. And quiet. I loved to crawl in there after service and listen to the gentle footsteps coming down for coffee hour and the muffled voices hovering above my head. I sat in that womb-like space and felt tucked into the church, wrapped in sweet darkness and the voices of my church family.

The darkness was not scary, it was safe and sweet. I needed it. I was sometimes overwhelmed by all the people, all the ideas, all the chatting. I needed that quiet darkness to help me come home to myself.

Jesus said “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness does not overtake you. If you walk in darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light”

Jesus does not speak about Darkness as a moral negative or with judgement. I think Western thinking can lead us (or maybe just me!) too quickly into binary thinking: darkness = scary, or bad, or far from God. But if we carry this bias into the text, I think we miss what Jesus may be saying. Jesus is speaking practically. In darkness you can’t see clearly-- you need something to guide you, something to orient you. As Jesus prepares his friends for his departure, he is acknowledging a reality, a human experience—there will be uncertainly, there will be unknowns, there will be change, there will be darkness. So he tells his friends to cherish the light, to memorize the light, to hold the light near so that when the unknowns find them, they will have comfort, a guide, and courage. I think Jesus’ call to his friends is a call to us all: become children of light—become students of seeing in the dark, become people who can remember what matters most in times of not knowing or of uncertainty, become friends with darkness, or at least acquaintances.

There are times we are meant to live in clarity, and times we are meant to live in ambiguity; but the paradox is lovely—sometimes it is in the ambiguity, in the seasons of not knowing, in the darkness--when one’s truth shines through with brilliant clarity. Just as we need to cherish the “light,” when the light is with us, maybe too we can cherish the darkness, when darkness is with us. Maybe there are moments we need to crawl into the dark, unknown, triangular closets of life and listen for the voices of love, coming from on high and coming from deep within.

¹ Corinthians 13: 1-13

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ²And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,^* but do not have love, I gain nothing.

⁴ Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant⁵or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;⁶it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. ⁷It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

⁸ Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. ⁹For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; ¹⁰but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. ¹¹When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. ¹²For now we see in a mirror, dimly,^* but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. ¹³And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

I can’t really imagine a more important message to hear today than the one of this text. For this reflection, I rewrote the verses to suggest how this message belongs with us this Saturday afternoon, March 28^th, in the middle of a pandemic:  

If I speak in the power of governors, world leaders, and politicians, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ²And if I have medical training, and understand all mysteries of this virus, and if I have all the medicines, vaccines, supplies, so as to remove this illness, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³If I sacrifice my food or time in quarantine to help others,^* but do not have love, I gain nothing.

⁴ Love is patient: It recognizes the gift of simplifying right now; it is gentle with our children, family, friends as we all sometimes poorly navigate this difficult time. Love forgives.

Love is kind: It compels us to pray for others, think of others, cry for others

Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant⁵or rude: Love finds peace with limitations, accepting that we are where we are—quarantined, isolated, or still going outside to go to work—and chooses to find breath, stillness, courage.

It does not insist on its own way: Love releases control, trusting God and inner resilience

it is not irritable or resentful;⁶it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth: Love is genuine, honest, embracing all the parts of ourselves that show up in scary times—the grief, fear, anger, gratitude, panic, hope.  

⁷It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things: ⁷It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends: It never ends