February 22, 2012 was the official beginning of the season of Lent. At Ardmore Presbyterian Church we hold an evening "Service of Covenant Renewal." The following are excerpts of Pastor James' remarks. His texts for the evening was Matthew 5:1-10 and Psalm 126.
After we first moved here, my wife signed up to receive text messages from one of the local television stations. So a few times a day, her phone buzzes with the latest headlines in the Philly area. More often than not, the texts are filled with bad news. The media reports that someone did something hurtful or hateful or simply stupid. Perhaps, it is another shooting or another flash mob or another scandal. On occasion, Sara will forward a headline to me. Sharing the news, even bad news, can be a comfort. It’s nice to know we aren’t alone.
While recently reading one of those forwarded texts, I realized that I wasn’t angry or upset. I just was saddened. I grieved the waste of talent and ability. I grieved the lost opportunities. At the end of the text, the television station gave me an option, “Reply STOP NEWS to quit.” If only it was that easy. I would love to hit reply on my cell phone to stop the bad news from coming. It would be great to push a button and know that no child would go hungry tonight, that wars would end, and that cures for diseases would be found.
However, there is no app for that.
We aren’t powerless. Humanity is capable of great acts of compassion and sacrifice. Each of us should do our part. Nonetheless, it will never be enough. Injustice, suffering and hatred will remain. Despite our human efforts, death will always be an enemy. The very things we wish to preserve slip through our fingers.
For me, the worst part is when I discover that even our efforts are tainted. Our actions are accompanied by selfishness, accommodation, and sin. Exhausted by the magnitude of the challenge, we fall to our knees and cry. And Jesus calls us blessed.
For those of us who grew up reading Peanuts comics, “Good grief” was Charlie Brown’s cry of desperation. It was meant to ironic, but Jesus means it seriously. “Blessed are those who mourn” (Matt 5:4).
On a certain level, those who mourn actually know the truth about this world. If someone cannot feel the pain of another person, they are essentially alone. There is something hellish about the one who walks through life surrounded by self-built walls, comfortably numb.
However, being blessed isn’t simply feeling another’s pain. That’s not Jesus’ word to us. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Jesus declares that there is an end to grief. Jesus stands with us at the grave. He whispers into our ears. Don’t worry. This is not the whole story. My love cannot be stopped by this. I will never leave you.
The nails that pierced his hands are gone. The cross on which he hung is no more. But Jesus himself is not lost to history. He is alive. The grief we have today must be understood in that context. Lent is not simply forty days of dreariness. The empty tomb declares that our grief happens in the embrace of hope. And God’s hope will never disappoint.
