“What are you giving up?” (St. Luke’s: Friday, Feb. 16th, 2018; Isaiah 58.1-9; Ps. 51; St. Matthew 9.14-15)

This time, things will be different.  I have a good friend who purchases lottery tickets in a quasi-religious manner.  For years now, this person has not gone a single week without buying a ticket in the hope of hitting the jackpot.  It is said that Albert Einstein defined insanity as follows: “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result”.  Of course, every now and then, someone does purchase a winning ticket.  Watching the media coverage of the presentation of the larger-than-life check to the lucky winner is torture for my friend.  As Gore Vidal said, “Whenever a friend of mine succeeds, a little something in me dies”.  It’s extremely frustrating to see someone else walk away with the prize that you have been hoping to win for so long.  Then again, long-ingrained habits are hard to break… (by the way, today’s LottoMAX jackpot is 55 million $).  So, once again, it’s Lent.  Will this year be any different?  Are we expecting any kind of result from our efforts to draw close to the Lord during these 40 days?

Freedom & frustration.  Today’s first reading reflects the frustration of God’s people following the return from exile in Babylon.  After having destroyed the city of Jerusalem along with the temple of Yahweh, and having exiled the population of the kingdom of Judah, the Babylonians had themselves tasted the bitterness of defeat – at the hands of the Persian Empire.  The Persian emperor, Cyrus, gave permission to those Jewish exiles who so desired to return to their homeland.  This was a “get-out-of-jail-free-card” …with a twist.  The way was clear to return to Jerusalem – but what was there to return to?  What awaited those Jews brave enough to undertake the long journey home was a smouldering pile of rubble, hostile neighbours and no guarantees that the next empire to rule the Near East would be as friendly as the Persians had been.  The invitation extended to the exiles to leave the land of their captivity in order to return home was a challenge to lay everything on the line in the hope of rebuilding their ancestral city – as well as starting their lives over, from scratch.  Most of the Jewish exiles balked at the prospect of uprooting themselves and hitting the road… again.  Most thought that Babylon was as good a place as any to make a life, and they decided to remain where they were.  However, a small number of exiles seized the opportunity to go back to Jerusalem; they rose to the challenge in the hope that perhaps Yahweh’s promises to Abraham would indeed be realized.  With that dream in their hearts, they took to the road their ancestor had travelled 15 centuries before; they retraced Abraham’s steps …from Babylonia to the Promised Land.

It’s not working.  Against all odds, the brave returnees had rebuilt the Temple as well as the walls of Jerusalem.  They had settled into the routine of work and worship, of family and faith.  And yet, something wasn’t right.  There was a common sentiment that God wasn’t paying attention: “Why do we fast, and you do not see it? Afflict ourselves, and you take no note of it?” (Is. 58.3a).  The Temple was rebuilt, sacrifices were being offered, priests had been consecrated for service in the house of God, the Feasts and Fasts were being observed, and still, there was a frustrating feeling of Yahweh’s …absence.  Surely, they were doing everything properly; what was wrong?  Why wasn’t it working?  Where was the payoff?  Faced with the people’s frustration, the prophet Isaiah offers an explanation of the situation.  Our reading today is an example of the perennial challenge of the prophets to God’s people down through the ages: the call to eliminate the discrepancy between our way of worshipping and our way of life; between our liturgical gestures and our attitudes; between what we say and who we are.  Now that we’re all uncomfortable, let us proceed.  Instead of standing in stark contrast to each other, our worship and our lives should reflect each other and inform each other.  This is the challenge to integrity – to an alignment of our beliefs with our behaviour.  Of course, in spite of what we may say, it is our actions that demonstrate what we truly believe, deep down.

Don’t frustrate freedom.  Isaiah puts his finger on the problem:

“…on your fast day you carry out your own pursuits, and drive all your laborers. Yes, your fast ends in quarreling and fighting” (Is. 58.3b).

God’s people were observing the fast days all right – however, besides having given up eating, it was business as usual.  The bottom line was being kept in full view.  Crops needed to be sown, harvests gathered, the fields needed ploughing.  However, since it was a fast, the laborers had to work on empty stomachs.  The image that Isaiah offers to illustrate the situation is that of the laborers being yoked together like cattle and driven to do their work.  What was supposed to be an occasion of drawing near to the God of freedom had become a moment of oppression.  Things had gotten twisted around – the fast was making things worse, not better.

The choice.  What are you giving up for Lent?  This is a question that we may have been asked recently.  Lent is a time for re-examining our priorities.  What motivations are driving us?  At the beginning of Flannery O’Connor’s 1960 novel, The Violent Bear it Away, the main character – a teenaged boy named “Francis Tarwater” – is busy digging a grave for his recently deceased uncle.  As the boy labors under the hot sun, a “stranger” appears and strikes up a conversation with him.  What is he going to do with his life now that he finds himself alone, now that his guardian (and authority figure) is dead?  As the dialogue draws to a close, Francis mutters to himself: “I guess that’s it then – it’s either Jesus or the Devil”; to which the stranger replies “No, the choice is not between Jesus and the Devil; the choice is between Jesus and you”.  There it is – in all its stark simplicity; as yesterday’s Gospel put it, either you do your own thing, or you take up the cross.  So, what are you giving up for Lent?  The challenge of Isaiah is addressed to all of us – as it turns out, the challenge is to give up …yourself.  Stop chasing your own pursuits and go after God’s pursuits; in other words, take care of those around you who are in need.  Free the oppressed; feed the hungry; shelter the homeless; clothe the naked (cf. Mt. 25.31-46) and “don’t turn your back on your own”.  Who are those people whom God has entrusted to our care?  Who are those people who look to us for a listening ear, who trust us to be present with them in their solitude?  If his people put aside their own pursuits and pursue justice, Yahweh promises them healing, light, vindication and …his presence.  This is the way to truly fast, the way to make our voice heard on high (cf. Is. 58.4).

“Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your wound shall quickly be healed…

Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,

you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!” (Is. 58.8-9).

This is the promise for those who are willing to lose themselves; they will find God.  Amen.