The Way of the Beloved: Journeying through Lent - 1st Sunday 2011

Tonight at Frankincense we read from Genesis, the story of the time when humanity chose a way that was different from the path You laid out. An alternate ending was presented from Rabbi Kushner, one in which there was no decision to turn away. There was simply Eden.

In his alternate ending, there was no extreme sorrow, but pleasure was also lacking. With every need met and no experience of pain or suffering, I wonder if we would ever have grown to love You. Would we have grown to love one another? Would we love ourselves?

What would this life look like if there was no sin or separation or hiding between us? Or are any of these things actually here now? Sin is supposedly the separation from You, but Beloved, is there a place in existence where You are not? The psalmist would contend, and the prophets agree, that such a place does not exist. So what then is sin? Julian says it is of no substance at all. If separation is the definition, then I think she is right, for wherever we travel, You, Beloved, are with us.

"Lenten Feet" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This brings me back to the Genesis passage. What really happened there? Where, if anywhere, did You go when the woman was speaking with the serpent? Were You hidden from sight? Why would You hide when their biggest decision ever was being made?

But this apparent absence is what Lent is about, then, isn’t it? We remember Jesus’ struggle and painful wandering out in the desert during a time of utmost importance in His earthly ministry. In that time were You hidden? The text is silent on the subject, saying neither that You were there, nor that you were absent beyond the physical presence of Christ. We get no clear indication that there was a separation of Your communal nature until the agonizing cry from the cross. But even there, was it separation or perception? Are we simply blinded to Your presence at times? How is it that we can feel so far away from You even when we are found in Your very womb, Dear Mother?

These things are too wonderful for me, Beloved! Still, on account of our intimacy, I am free to ask the questions that burn in my heart this night. What happened in Eden? What happened in the desert? What happened at the cross? What is this road about which we are walking along together? Where might it lead, and is the end really the beginning? How can we be coming back to You, as some theologians might say, if You have never really left us in the first place? Surely You are not far from us, Beloved! Surely we are always near to Your heart, O God!

Perhaps more questions will arise, Dear One, as we continue this Lenten journey together. For now, however, I’m glad to have the freedom to bring my questions to You as I prepare to slumber. I pray that I might be tucked into the fold of Your garment and that I might come closer to hearing and echoing Your heartbeat, Beloved. Oh let us be one as I enter my sleep, amen.