A Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent

The Rev. Kristin Krantz, St. James’, Mt. Airy
Lent 1, 2/21/2021
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-9
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15

 Gracious God, take our minds and think through them;
take our hands and work through them; take our hearts and set them on fire. Amen.

Here we are, back in Lent again.

It was of course last year near the start of Lent (then in March) that our lives changed with the advent of a new pandemic. We had no idea then that the “Lentiest Lent ever” would in many ways carry over into this Lent.

It has been a wilderness year in many ways, and perhaps that is why I was drawn this week to story of the Spirit chasing Jesus out into the wilderness.

Mark’s version of Jesus’ sojourn in the desert is shorter than in Matthew and Luke, but no less descriptive overall. He was in the wilderness for 40 days being tempted, and while we don’t get details about what that temptation looked like as in the other gospels, we are told that he was with the wild beasts and the angels waited on him.

It’s easy to read right past that part without thinking too much about it. When I think of Jesus’ time in the wilderness I usually envision it as harsh and unforgiving, a struggle to find shelter, sustenance, and of course water. I imagine that it was lonely, being isolated from other people for so long.

And yet right there in the text we see that Jesus wasn’t alone, he found company in the wild beasts. And while I don’t think his accommodations were akin to the Ritz Carlton or his meals were gourmet, the fact that the angels ministered to him tells us that Jesus continued to be held and cared for by the Spirit of God during his wilderness wandering.

This is the way with God.

God is always present, through the rain and the sun, on mountaintops and in deserts. And not just with Jesus – but with us too.

Looking back on the past year, can you pick out times that you especially felt God’s presence? Was it with a wild beast of your own – a pet that you suddenly found yourself spending more time with, and whose affection has buoyed your spirit? Was it in time spent in nature – in solitude or with those in your bubble? Was it through the angels in your life that have ministered to you in big and small ways – a phone call, a card, a meal?

When we look, we find love – because all of these signs of God’s presence – with Jesus in his wilderness and with us in ours – are rooted in being God’s beloved.

Because that’s how the story always begins. Whether it’s with the baby born in Bethlehem as in Matthew and Luke, or “In the beginning” with John, or with Jesus’ baptism which we read about today in Mark, where a voice from heaven called him the Beloved, the story always begins with love.

And because we are a part of that story, that love – and belovedness – belongs to us as well.

Beloved is where we begin, always, and as we make begin our Lenten pilgrimage anew this year.

I’d like to close with a poem called BELOVED IS WHERE WE BEGIN by Jan Richardson from her book Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons, praying that amidst the changes and chances of life in its continuous unfolding, that this Lenten wilderness season will be a blessing for you.

BELOVED IS WHERE WE BEGIN

If you would enter
into the wilderness,
do not begin
without a blessing.

Do not leave
without hearing
who you are:
Beloved,
named by the One
who has traveled this path
before you.

Do not go
without letting it echo
in your ears,
and if you find
it is hard
to let it into your heart,
do not despair.
That is what
this journey is for.

I cannot promise
this blessing will free you
from danger,
from fear,
from hunger
or thirst,
from the scorching
of sun
or the fall
of the night.

But I can tell you
that on this path
there will be help.

I can tell you
that on this way
there will be rest.

I can tell you
that you will know
the strange graces
that come to our aid
only on a road
such as this,
that fly to meet us
bearing comfort
and strength,
that come alongside us
for no other cause
than to lean themselves
toward our ear
and with their
curious insistence
whisper our name:

Beloved.

Beloved.

Beloved.

~Amen.~