Johann Sebastian Bach, our featured composer, seemed to enjoy long journeys. In 1705, the twenty-year-old Bach asked his superiors at the Church of St Boniface in Arnstadt for a four-week-leave to go to Lübeck, some 400 kilometres by foot, to meet Dieterich Buxtehude, the celebrated composer and organist. Four weeks turned into four months, and, upon his return, the story goes that Bach was formally reprimanded because of insubordination. His superiors at St Boniface, however, noticed that after meeting Buxtehude, there was something different about his music making: he began accompanying hymns in new, exciting, and intricate ways. This journey proved life-changing for Bach and I daresay that our lives are richer because of it.
My friends, you and I are on a journey. This journey, of course, is our Lenten journey. It may be unlikely that any of us will set off on a trek of 400 kilometres, however, this season of Lent has the potential to be life-changing; are we willing to allow it to be? I would like to offer two questions: Where are we going? And what do we hope to gain from it?
In the cantata we hear tonight, a musical meditation on the passage from the eighteenth chapter of St Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is on a journey, preparing for his Passion and Death. He takes his disciples and tells them, “We are going up to Jerusalem”. The cantata’s libretto develops how we are to respond to Jesus’s intention. Initially, there is hesitation with Jesus, as he moves toward his death; subsequently, we affirm our dedication to accompany him on his journey. To do this, we must relinquish worldly attachments and embrace self-sacrifice to remain with Jesus. Finally, we give thanks for the salvation achieved by his death.
Where are we going on our journey? When we make a journey, we go from point A to point B. What is ‘point B’ for us? These forty days are evocative of the time when Jesus fasted in the desert, when he retreated from the world. We can imagine the challenges he faced: hunger, the burning heat of day, the cold of night.. Jesus was not immune to temptation: he suffered temptation to give up and surrender to the devil. Yet Jesus persevered.
Now a week into our Lenten journey, it’s a good opportunity to see if our spiritual navigation system needs recalibration. Let’s think about the resolutions that we set out to achieve this Lent. Did we move too fast during those first days of Lent, taking a wrong turn when we arrived at the weekend? Is it easier to surrender,‘There’s always next year!’, or can I pick up where I left off? Have I tried to accomplish too much and now I am finding it unmanageable? Pare down and achieve something that is manageable. Are my Lenten restrictions so severe that my family, friends, and co-workers want to crucify me? (This is not what Jesus meant when he said, ‘Take up thy cross and follow me’!) Perhaps I need a better balance between love of God and love of neighbour.
Now, on to the second question: What do we hope to gain from this journey? The other day, I received a message from an acquaintance in California who asked me what I was giving up for Lent. I am sure that he was expecting me to say that I was giving up chocolate, social media, and double cream in my coffee. I told him quite plainly that “Lent is not about what I give up; it’s about what I hope to gain from it.” I wasn’t surprised when he immediately changed the subject. There can be virtue in giving things up for Lent but there is no virtue in giving things up for sake of giving them up. It’s about our willingness to desire less, retreating from the exterior attractions of the world. Our Lenten fast should free us from the bondage of ourselves. Fasting strengthens our will, detaches us from the things that burden us, and opens the line of communication with God and with others. Our ‘point B’ is not simply better discipline, but deeper communion with Christ, so that by Good Friday we have died more fully with him, and by Easter we rise more fully in him. This is what we should hope to gain on our Lenten journey.
Did you know that parables run through our streets like sparks through stubble? I pass shop windows on Coney Street all the time that say, “Everything Must Go”. Everything must go. If we apply that to ourselves, we will be well on the way to realising what Lent is about. Lent is a time of departure, of letting go, of severance, and of new stock; it is a time of welcoming new styles and new ways of looking at things. A word very often aligned with what God is and what he does and how he does things is the term new. He makes all things new.
If we take this approach, imagine how far we will have travelled when Easter comes round on the 5th of April. We will be like Bach after having tutored with Buxtehude. Christ’s life in us will shine brightly within us as we create new harmonies to accompany the familiar tunes of life. The melody of our circumstances may not change, but the harmony beneath it will. We will be made new: children of God restored to his image. This has been his plan for us since all eternity. Saint Paul expresses this better than I can:
“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians3:12-14)
Where was Paul going? Toward the heavenly call. What did he hope to gain? To belong ever more fully to Christ.
Let’s make a difference this Lent. If you’ve stalled out, it’s not too late to get back on track. Every day is a new beginning, which allows God to restore all things in Christ. Where are you going? And what do you hope to gain from it?
