Dear Friends,
Many of our religious observances involve reflective preparation followed by a big celebration, such as Advent into Christmas, and Holy Week into Easter. But two are the opposite: Palm Sunday, with all its festive waving of palms and cries of hosanna, moves quickly into Passion Week and cries of “Crucify Him!” And Transfiguration Sunday, which we just celebrated, marks the revelation of Jesus as the Christ, bathed in the glory of God’s light, and the fulfillment of all the law and prophets. As Peter, who witnessed the event, said (and here I paraphrase just a tad), “This is so cool! It’d be great if we could build houses up here on this mountain so we can stay in this Glory forever!” But alas, just as many of our reflective seasons are preparation for festival, some celebrations are a last strengthening for time in the wilderness. Transfiguration Sunday is followed three days later by Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent. Just as it was after the historical Transfiguration, when Jesus and the disciples had to come down from their mountain-top experience and begin the journey to Jerusalem where Jesus would be crucified, we go from glory to ashes. The ashes we place on our foreheads this Wednesday at our 7:00pm service are a sign of our mortality, for from ashes to ashes and dust to dust we live. All that we value of this world will pass away; it is only the values of the Kindom of God that are lasting. Lent is when we journey into the wilderness to rediscover who we are and Whose we are. It is only in dying that we are born anew to life in Christ, who died for us, and at Lent we die to the old ways of life. We kneel in the shadow of the cross to help us try to put aside all that blocks us from dancing in the light of the resurrection.
At KPC, we underscore the transition from glory into wilderness by observing Fat Tuesday, a last night of frivolity before Ash Wednesday. We traditionally stoke up on carbs at our Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper, and the lean times begin the next day. Do you ever hear people complain wearily, “It’s always feast or famine?” Sometimes it seems that way, but I actually find the ordinary plateaus of life harder to manage, as I struggle to place one foot in front of the other throughout a long, even stretch. In Arkansas, I-40 stretches from Memphis to Little Rock in an unbroken line of tedium as you whiz by mile after mile of dry, dreary fields of flatness. But keep going past Little Rock toward Fayetteville, up into the Ozark mountains, and a series of hills and valleys, stunning vistas, valleys and panoramas is the reward.
We are poised to walk together into the time of Lent’s famine once more. Make the most of it. Reflect, pray, and learn about yourself and God. Starve yourself of all that isn’t holy, knowing that Easter’s mountain sunrise awaits. I promise the feast will be that much more filling. Now excuse me; it’s time to pass the pancakes.
Love and light,
Martin