Lent. Growing up, I had no idea what Lent was
about. We celebrated Easter and
Christmas. I knew that Jesus was born on
Christmas and died and was resurrected on Easter. That was about the extent of my theological
understanding. Somehow, that deep theological
mind has made its way to being a seminarian.
Hard to believe, I know. I
remember the first time that I really became aware of Lent and Ash Wednesday in
particular. I was in my early 20’s and
working in a bank in my hometown. I
quietly pulled one of my co-workers aside so as not to embarrass him when I
pointed out the evidence of the tragic copier toner accident that he’d clearly
been a victim of. Fortunately, he was a
good sport about it and explained to me the reason for the smudge on his forehead.
My previous, conservative
non-denominational, faith context taught me that seasons such as Lent and
Advent were meaningless and ritualistic.
To them, it mattered that Jesus was born, that he died, and that he rose
from the grave, but the ceremonious nature of the liturgical seasons within
most mainline denominations were perceived to be empty and merely a matter of empty
tradition.
Admittedly, some of those
prejudices continued with me as I found myself entering and becoming a part of
the United Methodist Church. Over the
years, I have consistently found these prejudices challenged. There are times that I miss the energy of the
worship services that I experienced in my former faith context, but, at the
same time, I appreciate the depth and intellectual challenge of my current
faith environment.
I remember the first time I ever
took communion in a United Methodist Church.
First, communion was not served with any kind of regularity at my former
church. The pastor felt that serving
communion on a regular basis made it expected and ordinary and took away from
the specialness of it. Also, it was
never served by intinction. Each person
was served their own individual mini cup of juice and a piece of bread. Then we all ate and drank in unison. While I know that not all United Methodist
Churches serve communion by intinction, I know that many do, and the two United
Methodist Churches that I have attended with any kind of regularity serve it
that way. It seemed weird to me at
first. I didn’t want to eat bread dipped
in juice that who knows who’s fingers have touched. But, then, I did it. Yes, other people may have dipped to far and
touched the juice with their fingers, but, regardless of that, the who
experience is so connective and unifying that you forget about that. The sense of connection extended beyond the
walls of the church I was in as well.
Knowing that other churches across the United Methodist connection were
engaging in the same act of remembrance reinforced to me that I was, in that
moment, a part of something much larger than me. I was also taken aback by the fact that the
communion elements had to be blessed and that not just anyone could bless
them. At first, I saw this as elitist
and exclusionary, but my perspective quickly shifted to seeing it as a far more
reverent act, and I was honored the first time I was ever asked to help in
serving communion during a service.
Today, I attended my first ever Ash
Wednesday service at the seminary where I am a student. It was the first time that ashes had ever
been applied to my own forehead. Being
in that service among peers, faculty and staff from my school, a place that has
very much come to feel like a safe place, a place of belonging to me, I again
felt that strong sense of connection and belonging. Today, I downloaded a Lent devotional from
the Reconciling Ministries Network. I
plan to take in the first reading before I go to sleep tonight. I am so thankful to be apart of this shared
experience for the first time as we wait for the coming resurrection.
~ Culbs
joshua.culbertson@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment