Lent is About Removing the Layers that Separate us from God

Posted by Priest on February 21, 2010 under Sermons |

Last week I received a mysterious text-message from a fellow parishioner: It read: “What is the value of self-abnegation?” I was a little flabbergasted. In fact, I panicked. I panicked, because I had no clue whatsoever what the word “self-abnegation” means. So, I rushed to the computer to find an online dictionary: Turns out, it is a fancy word for “self-denial.” Which made me panic all over again. What on earth did this parishioner mean? Had he run into some weird cultists? Was he annoyed by the immanence of Lent, with its call for denial? Was even thinking about giving up Lent for Lent? Panic-stricken I called and left a message.

Turns out, this fellow parishioner had just tried to rile me – and obviously I had fallen for it. I am so gullible.

However, this exchange got me thinking. It got me thinking, because last Wednesday, we did indeed start the season of Lent. And despite the fact that in the church’s official liturgical invitation to observe a holy Lent, it nowhere mentions the word self-denial, even though we very often equate Lent with just that: self-denial and self-abnegation.

So, then, what is the value of self-abnegation?

Some 800 years ago, a young man entered a cathedral church and in front of the gathered worshipping community, he stripped butt-naked. He took off one layer of clothing after the other, until, to the utter shock and horror of the community, he stood in front of them in his birthday suit. In the midst of the congregation, in the presence of God, he stood just as God had created him to be.

[Take off some layers of clothing. Stop after taking off the collar.]

I will stop here. No nakedness here today. I do desire to come back to you here at St. Paul’s and to this job as your priest when I return from my sabbatical. And, even here in the Diocese of New Westminster, not everything goes. Furthermore, the point has already been made. I would be copying the young man, whose name was Giovanni Francesco di Bernardone, but who is known to us as Francis of Assisi. But I want you to just stop for a moment and consider what you were feeling and thinking when I started to undress. I suspect there was a bit of shock and a bit of embarrassment. Maybe even a bit of curiosity – but trust me, I don’t have the body to make you even the least bit curious.  But I bet most of you were nervous.

And, no wonder we get nervous. No wonder, because besides the obvious issue of nudity, we just aren’t comfortable with this kind of intimacy. And it is not just the British or the puritan American, right? Unfortunately, we always equate nudity with sexuality, however. I don’t think Francis of Assisi tried to be overtly sexual when he disrobed. He tried to make a point about the things we put on: both literally and figuratively.

Usually we put on all kinds of layers to protect our most intimate self, both literally and figuratively. We cover ourselves with things, very often material things, to avoid exposing our true, real self. And let me say this here in the West End: Sometimes these layers can include a perfectly styled body. We do everything to avoid connecting. And, yes, very often that is not a bad thing at all. After all, in a world that is selfish and ego-centric, that promotes winners and advocates an economic system that sees too many left behind both globally and on our own front steps, in a world where we cannot be safe, we must keep some layers, must keep some healthy boundaries in order not to be exploited and in order to not exploit in return.

However, in our world, we often overdo it and adorn ourselves too often with too much. And it is hard to crack those shells, not just for outsiders, but also, and more importantly for the love of God. And far too often, we lose ourselves in the process.

In the end, self-denial, self-abnegation really isn’t about all the horrible things the church has promoted in ages past and that still hang over our head. It is not about making ourselves small and puny and unworthy. I think one of the most problematic issues for the church in this day and age is our reputation of being a bunch of sombre and overly-pious people who despise life. And far too often, it is still true for many of our coreligionists: If it is fun it can’t be right!

What a distortion of the biblical truth!

Interestingly enough, monastic and religious orders have long recognized this. Paul Wessinger, who died just last year and who had served as the superior of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, an Anglican order for men, once responded to the question “What is needed to be a monk in the 21^st century?” with a chuckle. “A sense of humour,” he answered. And Francis who by disrobing in the cathedral of Assisi not only revealed the senseless and destructive reality of the materialism and consumerism that was even present in the 12^th century and who revealed more than just his body, more than just how much God yearns to be intimately connected with us, showed also a great sense of humour back then. I mean, for crying out loud. He stripped naked inside a cathedral! Furthermore, Francis also welcomed with open arms into his order Juniper, a jester, who enjoyed life with gusto and whose sense of humour connected him intimately with God, with those around him, and with his true self.

This is why even today, people, in the midst of the 21^st century, the monastic movement refuses to die: It is a way of connecting intimately with God, with others, and with our true selves. And it holds a mirror in front of us showing us how much we have indeed surrounded ourselves with all kinds of irrelevant layers. In this way, being a monk or a nun, being a friar or a sister, being a tertiary or an associate, like our own David Ryniker, is a commitment to live a life committed to the season of Lent.

Yet, remember, it is not about feeling puny or horrible about ourselves. It is about breaking through the layers that we have erected around ourselves. It is about  letting God’s immeasurable, overflowing, and abundant love into the midst of our being. It is about stripping naked with God and being intimate with the One who created us and who loves us beyond our understanding.

Yes, it is about self-denial. It is about self-abnegation. But not really. It is about denying and abnegating the faux and false selves we have erected around us. It is about discovering our true selves, the beautiful identity gifted to us and intended for us by our Creator. And in the process of discovering this awesome beauty of our true selves, we must with God’s help deny the sins that enslave us, we must burn away the darkness that swallows us, we must abnegate the deceiving images we have built for ourselves, and we must die to ourselves, so that we can live in the love and light of God.

And this is what Jesus’ desert experience is all about. For forty days and forty nights, Jesus put aside all that hindered him from celebrating the intimate bond with the one he called “abba,” daddy, loving father. Don’t read today’s Gospel just as an account of how our God in Jesus Christ overcomes evil in whatever manifestation. But read it also as an invitation to be intentional about removing all that separates us from God, all those layers of things. For that is what Lent is all about.

[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on February 21, 2010.]