1st Sunday in Lent        Deuteronomy 26:1-11 & Luke 4:1-13         February 21, 2010

I'm not sure if it is due to trying to do many thing in too short of time, or perhaps, dare I say, age catching up to me, but I have found that I am experiencing stages of forgetfulness and the inability to remember where I put something.
Just recently I was complaining about my inability to find some of the things I had hoped to bring to Arizona last week.
And then when I got back I could not remember where I put some of my Barnes & Noble gift cards I had tucked away.
Admittedly, not a big deal, but it is annoying.
At least once a week I find myself making frequent trips from the garage back into the house because I have forgotten my keys, then my cell phone, another trip back because I did not grab my wallet.

I guess in the grand scheme of things, forgetting where I put something is not earth shattering and I have to admit that being a bit forgetful from time to time sure is annoying.
And while I might try to minimize these occasions of forgetfulness I also know that sometimes forgetfulness is not merely an inconvenience, it can be hazardous.
It is hazardous because sometimes I forget myself. Sometimes I forget who I am, not in some dementia sort of way, but in a spiritual sort of way.
For example, when I forget who I am, I am capable of doing and saying terrible things.
When I forget who I am, I have a tendency to behave in ways that do not reflect well on my creator and those who have played significant roles in my life and development.
For example, when I forget who I am I have a tendency to forget about my God who created me and my Savior who died for me.
When I forget who I am, I forget about my mother gave birth to me as well as my father who raised me.

When I forget who I am I forget about one of our former bishops, Roger Monson and fellow pastors who laid their hands upon my head and ordained me.
When I forget who I am I might forget about my wife Julia who has loved me and pledged herself to me.
And when I forget who I am, I might also forget about this congregation, which has called me to serve as your pastor.
These are among the facts by which I define myself, among the gifts out of which I live a life of gratitude. But when I forget about them, even for a moment, I am no longer grateful, and I can become a different person altogether.
And that person is capable of all manner of pettiness, of biting sarcasm, and grouchy behavior.
That person doesn't know gratitude from a ham sandwich. That person will rant and rave and carry on.
That person is righteously indignant, amazingly impatient, shamefully self-centered, relentlessly irritable, and with arrogance that knows no bounds.

You see, when I forget myself, when I forget who I am—a child of God, a servant of Christ, when I forget that I am a child of God, the son of Sharon and Dallas Blenkush, a pastor of the church, the grateful husband of Julia—when I forget these things, I am no longer constrained by them.
I am no longer guided by them.
I am no longer defined by them.
At those times, I am quite simply a loose cannon, my only identity shaped by whatever momentary outrage happens to cross my path.

Memory is perhaps one of the most important of notions for Jewish folks.
Today's Old Testament reading contains a passage that is thought by many to be the most momentous in all the Jewish Scriptures.
"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down to Egypt and lived there…"
So it begins.
And it goes on to tell the story with which many of us are familiar, the story of the Exodus, of Moses and Aaron, and the Ten Commandments.

I believe that Lent is a time for remembering.
It is the time specially and specifically set aside to give you and me the space to remember who we are, to remember how we came to be here, and what we have been called to do.
To remember that "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life."
So that you and I can be children of God, and heirs of God's kingdom.

As Christians, our defining moment, our defining event is the passion and death of Jesus Christ on the cross.
We forget it at our peril.
For when we forget, we forget ourselves as well.
Giving stuff up or taking on some particular Lenten discipline will do us little good if we don't remember why we do what we do.

I believe that as Lutherans we take this notion of remembering pretty seriously.
We encourage people to remember their baptism daily. We make appoint of offering the Sacrament of Holy Communion weekly primarily because Jesus said, "Do this in remembrance of me.'
And we do.
The body and blood of Christ reminds us of the cross, of his death and passion.
They remind us also that upon that cross was wrought our salvation.
In the Ash Wednesday liturgy, we heard those haunting words, "Remember that from dust you came, and to dust you will return."
In other words, remember who we are.
We remember our place in the cosmos.
We remember our mortality and our need for God.

In truth, of course, we often forget ourselves.
We often forget that we are but dust.
We often forget the God loved us and that Christ died for us.
And when we do, we lose the best part of ourselves.
It is at this point when we are in the most danger, the gravest peril.
For when we forget, we are reduced to the lowest human common denominator.
When we forget we find ourselves without the grace of God, and it is not a pretty picture.

If you have ever said or heard someone say, "I don't know you anymore" then perhaps you understand.
If you've ever looked in the mirror and beheld a stranger staring back at you, then you know.
You know the pain and the despair that comes with forgetting—with forgetting, but also with betrayal, betrayal of God and betrayal of self.

Lent is a time for remembering and for discovery.
Jesus went into the wilderness to remember who he was and to discover whom he was, to remember what he was called to do and to discover what he was called to do. When he emerged, he knew who he was.
He knew what he would do.

The forty days of Lent provide us with an opportunity to remember and to discover.
And when we emerge, we will have a better idea of who we are and what we have been called to do.
But Lent is no magic bullet.
To observe a Holy Lent--we must be willing to set aside some time each day to remember: to remember who we are, to remember who God is, and what God was willing to do to secure our salvation.
A wise teacher often said: When we know who we are, then we can be who we are. Then we can be true to ourselves and true to God.

Forgetting where I left some luggage tags or forgetting my keys is one thing.
Forgetting myself is quite anther.
Lent is a time to remember.
God's blessing to each of you during this holy season of Lent. Amen

Pastor Stephen Blenkush
Zion Lutheran
Milaca, MN
www.ZionMilaca.org

 

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