Turns out, it was a dream. I was walking into the narthex of a very large church, jostled by the crowd surging towards the sanctuary. I muttered to myself, but apparently out loud, “You could get run over here,” to which the person I had just bumped into observed, “Yeah, You have to keep moving here.” I squeezed into one of the last seats and watched, amazed, as a choral and clergy procession of hundreds entered. And then I woke up.
I had gone to bed, wondering what I was going to write about for Lent this year. I’ve never been fond of Lent - too dark, too long, difficult themes, betrayals and more, capped by a crucifixion. I’ve preached and written about dust and ashes, about wilderness, about introspection and repentance. I’ve reflected on ‘the seven last words from the cross.’ I’ve even been tempted to skip Lent and just go instead to the promise of Easter. Lent, once I discovered it, has never been easy for me. I woke up from the dream, thinking to myself, “Of course, in Lent, you have to keep moving.” If you get stuck in one place, it can be deadly to one’s spiritual well-being.
The early community of Jesus never thought of themselves as ‘Christians.’ That would come later. They knew themselves as ‘People of the Way.’ Read the Gospels, the Book of Acts, Paul’s letters, really the whole Bible: what we find there is a story of people on the move - stopping along the way to refresh themselves, to be sure - but always on the move, sharing what for them was the good news of the Risen Lord.
So, how might one keep moving through Lent. The pilgrimage leads first to Ash Wednesday, that somber reminder of our mortality: “Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return!” Faith that does not deal with that reality is incomplete. We must grasp the truth, but not linger. We have to keep moving.
Jesus walked the length and breadth of the land with his disciples, teaching as they walked, healing when he encountered those in need, offering wisdom that transcended time and circumstance. Envision yourself walking with him into the wilderness, tempted as he was to use your ability for yourself and not for others. Walk with him to Cana in Galilee to a wedding banquet and see the miracle of extravagance. Walk with him as he teaches Nicodemus the meaning of God’s love. Savor what you have seen, but keep moving. Walk with him to the village of Bethany to encounter the grief of Mary and Martha at the death of Lazarus and watch despair turn to disbelief and the joy of new life. Walk with him as he enters Jerusalem, knowing that outside the city is a hill called Golgotha.
We could stop at any one of these places, ponder the depth of meaning there, maybe even give in to the temptation to stay. But we are ‘People of the Way.’ We are called to keep moving, following as disciples in the path that leads to life. For we know, even at the beginning of Lent, that an experience of the living Presence of Christ looms on the horizon. And so we have to keep moving, confident that, as on the Road to Emmaus, we will be joined by The One who will nurture us with the Living Word and nourish us with The Bread of Life.
The Rev. F. Richard Garland is a retired clergy member of the New England Annual Conference.