When I was a child we didn’t have Lent,
not down in Nashville, Tennessee,
where my father was a Presbyterian minister,
That’s not to say there wasn’t any of that “giving up”
business going on;
It’s just that Presbyterians didn’t do it.
Oh, we waved our fronds as we went into the sanctuary
on Palm Sunday,
and we observed Holy Week,
the most memorable day being Friday
when we had hot cross buns and didn’t go to school,
but went instead to the worship service downtown,
and listened to one of those Last Words Sermons
and afterwards ate at the B & W cafeteria.
I was afraid a truant officer would see us,
but my mother assured me she’d never seen a truant officer
lurking around in the churches in Nashville, Tennessee.
What we did see was a lot of people going to church
on Good Friday
and a lot of people praying.
I knew something very important was going on,
and that it was about Jesus.
Not Easter baskets, not new clothes, not Easter dinner. Jesus.
It was about Jesus.
It was also about Jesus when my father was tried by
the church for heresy.
He had preached sermons about racial equality
and higher wages for the poor
and loving people of other faiths,
as well as preaching a sermon on peace just before
World War II.
Some people told him to stick to the Bible.
My father said he was preaching the gospel,
and his conscience would only allow him
to preach the truth as he saw it.
As he heard it.
As he felt the Spirit.
It was about Jesus.
Many Lents later, I have taped to my desk these words:
Who do you say that I am?
They are Jesus’ words to the disciples.
They are Jesus’ words to me every time I sit down to write.
Who do you say that I am?
And I anguish.
We all think we know, and yet, we’re a church quarreling
because we don’t agree who Jesus is.
When Jesus appeared by the Jordan,
John knew who Jesus was,
and baptized him.
God, of course, identified him in front of the crowd:
“You are my beloved son.”
In our congregation the baptized are given
small needlepoint rainbows
as reminders of God’s covenant with Noah and with us.
They are then welcomed into the family of faith.
In the wilderness, Satan knew who Jesus was
and tempted him when he was famished,
as we are tempted when we are famished,
whether it be for food
or shelter
or recognition
or wealth
or power
or love.
Jesus went to Galilee preaching the gospel,
saying: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God
has come near;
repent and believe in the good news.”
But the good news was not always received as such …
not then, not now.
The trouble was the good news proved
too scandalous, too radical, too good to be true,
and they turned their backs on Jesus …
the people, the religious authorities, the government,
and even the disciples,
and Jesus suffered unto death …. alone.
As the spiritual says: “We didn’t know who you (were).”
My prayer is that this Lent we will know who he is,
and we will “give up” our hearts to a world
who screams for a word of hope from the
Church of Jesus Christ.
I pray we will have the ears to hear the good news
and the courage to preach it,
the eyes to see who Jesus is and the love to follow:
Feeding his sheep,
living in peace with one another, all the one anothers,
standing up and taking risks for his word,
and believing that God’s arms are open to us
in mercy
and forgiveness
and unfailing Love
in this powerful gift of covenant faithfulness.
Ann Weems of St. Louis, Mo., is a best-selling poet-writer, speaker, and conference leader. She is an ordained elder in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Her works include Kneeling in Bethlehem, Kneeling in Jerusalem, and Psalms of Lament.
