WILL THE CONGREGATION PLEASE STAND
Tammy and I are cutting back on carbs these days. I could get all pious and claim it as our Lenten fast but, in reality, we are just trying to shed a few of the extra pounds we have put on since moving to Manitoba and being rather inactive because of restrictions brought on by winter and Covid. Still, my thoughts turn to Lent, it being early in that season as I write this month’s postcard, though it may be closer to Easter by the time you read it.
Lent is probably the first special season invented in the early church – and for a very particular reason. The crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus deeply impacted his first followers. In fact, Jesus and his message may have been quickly forgotten had it not been for so dramatic a climax to his story. So, as more and more folks heard his story and were moved to throw in their lot with the movement growing around his memory, the early church chose to baptize new followers on the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Day: symbolically inviting each one “to experience” the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus for themselves. The several weeks prior were set aside as a period of rigorous preparation for baptism and for living out that commitment afterwards. Lent may not have been understood in those earliest years as a season at all, instead, just as an expedient way to approach a practical need arising in the early church. It took some time for it to get a name and to be limited to 40 days and for those 40 days to be linked to another Gospel story – the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness near the beginning of his public ministry, with that story in turn echoing the story in the Hebrew Scriptures of the 40 years the Israelites spent in the desert after escaping from slavery in Egypt and before entering into Canaan to establish themselves there as a free nation.
Going back, then, to my mention of a Lenten fast, there has long been an association between Lent, deprivation, and suffering – as reflected in the link with Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness and his crucifixion. In the first three centuries or so in the early church – when the Romans did everything they could to stamp out this rebel movement and its growing popularity – it was a badge of honor for a Christian to be martyred as Jesus was for standing against the powers-that-be and standing up resolutely and courageously for what they believed. Even after the Roman Empire made its peace with the church – to the point of naming it as its official religion and compelling everyone within its territory to be baptized (with little preparation required) – the emphasis on suffering and martyrdom remained strong among certain groups and currents within the church. The choice of some to abandon the easy life and head out into the desert to live as hermits was one way to show devotion to Jesus and to share in his suffering, if not in his actual martyrdom. Similarly, fasting and other rigorous practices were adopted as a way of marking Lent so that even the common folk could find a way to identify with Jesus’ suffering and death and to claim at least some semblance of martyrdom for themselves.
Now, before I make my point in all this, I want to share the way I have come to think about Jesus’ crucifixion. (And, by the way, I am not sure there is “one right way” of understanding the crucifixion; it is more helpful, I think, to recognize that it is a story both rich and strange that can be explored from many different angles, each one shedding some light on its significance.) The “orthodox” explanation of Jesus’ brutal death – at least for the past 1000 years or so – is that he is suffering and dying on a cross for the sins of the world, paying the price in our place for what we deserve because of our own sins and sinfulness. In that view, Jesus is settling things with God on our behalf so that we can all find mercy and forgiveness through God and be welcomed into eternal life. I am more inclined, first of all, to see his crucifixion in more down to earth terms: as the authorities’ way of trying to silence his threat to their worldview and power and as a warning against anyone else who might be foolish enough to pick up the baton after him. From that perspective, I see Jesus dying more for the righteous than for the sinner: as the champion of anyone then, since, or now who has the courage to take a stand for what they know to be truer than conventional and official truth.
With that view of Jesus’ martyrdom in mind, then, I think we are putting our em-pha’-sis on the wrong syl-la’-ble when it comes to Lenten observances, as did many of his followers after it became safe and even fashionable to call themselves Christians in the 4th Century and later. Over the centuries amongst Christians it seems to me that the emphasis has shifted to martyrdom, suffering, and deprivation for their own sake and away from the reasons one might risk experiencing such resistance and pain: standing up for and speaking out about something that the prevailing authorities would rather you backed off from and kept quiet about. If I were to suggest special Lenten practices, I would counsel fewer symbolic gestures that have a gloss of martyrdom about them and more advocacy and action on behalf of any of the many critical issues facing our domestic society and global community. Come to think of it, it is important to do that – thoughtfully, ethically, responsibly – in any season, be it Lent or not, and only after taking careful stock of the potential consequences before risking them.
This iconic photo from the student uprising in Tiananmen Square in Beijing in 1989 is one of many “crucifixion moments” throughout history.
Peace to you, Ted Hicks