By Rev. Donald A. Wells, Theologian in Residence
This journey of ours often takes us in new and challenging directions: a different slant on a text, a new life experience, another year added to our lives or, as Robert Frost would have it --- ‘divergent roads’ --- and we are off on a new and uncharted leg of that journey.
This time we find ourselves entering a town called Bethany, west of Jerusalem. Like most small towns it has a well, surrounded by fig trees, where weary travelers can find water and a handful of figs for refreshment. Nearby there are stalls where merchants sell their wares. We see children playing in the streets and a donkey cart passing by with its load of produce. But our journey was long and we are now ready for the shade of those fig trees and the refreshing water of the well to assuage our thirst and to splash over our faces. A time of respite from the journey.
Respite? A time for refreshment and reflection to gather strength for what lies ahead? We had followed Jesus here looking to witness a miracle, to hear a new teaching or, perhaps, to observe another dramatic confrontation with the authorities. Instead, we have just learned, he is simply visiting Mary, Martha and their brother Lazarus, distant cousins, just to get away from the crowds. He needed a place to find respite in quiet conversation and in the breaking of bread before resuming his ministry. Jesus? Respite?
Our modern sensibilities have trouble with anything less than 24/7. We get rewarded for always being on the job. But biblical scholars have rightly noted the rhythm in Jesus’ life: a time of withdrawal always precedes or follows key dimensions of his public ministry. After his Baptism he went straight into the wilderness. He needed time to be alone with his inner struggles as to the shape of that ministry. After a busy time of teaching there are several instances where he withdrew: once getting into a boat to get to the other side of the lake for a time-out. After his final meal on that Thursday evening, he went into a garden to pray. He knew that time was short. Mini ‘Sabbaths’ if you will.
In his book, The Sabbath, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel helps deepen our understanding even further. To him, the Sabbath was not simply withdrawal from labor and activity in order to deal with the next day’s issues, but a moving into a period of tranquility and peace: a reorientation of life, as it were. We see Jesus embracing his heritage in the observance of Sabbaths of all kinds.
For us in the Church, while not a ‘day’ of tranquility, Lent can provide a different rhythm from the ordinary. It gives us a time frame in which to reflect, study, pray and perhaps engage in a new practice that will help us on our journey. It gives us a chance to hear again Jesus’ invitation to ‘come, follow me’, and to assess how we are doing. Lent can also provide an opportunity to rid ourselves of some of the burdens we carry unnecessarily. They include the guilt society tries to place on us for daring to challenge the 24/7 mentality, and the guilt that some segments of the Church still seek to place on us by saying that our sins make us complicit in Jesus’ death. The Roman authorities executed Jesus, not our sins.
As we sit here by the shaded well in Bethany, we are taking respite from our journey from Jerusalem. But even more, Jesus is teaching us, by example, in spending time with his cousins away from public ministry. Sabbath rest takes many forms. But now it is evening, and we need to find lodging for the night. Even though we have not seen him, he has opened new avenues of thought for us to explore. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but we sense that things may be coming to a head with the authorities. But whatever comes, this time of renewal of both body and spirit was certainly important.
Our Lenten journey will help prepare us for the challenges ahead.