Let us pray: O God, speak to me that I may speak of you. Amen.

    One of the traditional understandings of the season of Lent is that it is a time of penance. I want to offer some different perspectives on this particular tradition this morning, but let me first begin with just one act of penance. I hope the Canada Reads people aren’t listening, and I must truly ask forgiveness, not from God, but from our Canadian literary icon, Ms. Margaret Atwood. I haven’t read any of Ms. Atwood’s works of fiction. In fact, the only complete work of hers that I’ve read is an annotated bibliography of Canadian literature: Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature  published in 1972 and updated in 2004. It’s a while since I read it, but as I recall one of the themes of Atwood’s book is that wilderness is a strong motif in Canadian literature and in large part helps to define who we are as Canadians.

    This theory, in my opinion, has a lot going for it. When I think of the range of Canadian works that I have read, the great white north (even though we all know that in many cases it is the south), in various forms, often plays more than a background role. In other words, it is part of our context. That context takes on even more significance when we actually live close to the wilderness. As I reflected on this, I realised that all three places I’ve served in ministry existed just on the edge of pretty vast wildernesses. Bonnyville on the northern edge of Southern Alberta, where if I walked out the front door of my house and turned left, I could go for a long time before I would run into a settlement of any size, and if my compass or GPS bearings were just a bit off, perhaps never! Jasper, where backcountry trails began about a five-minute walk from our front door and now, Yellowknife.

    I was taught well in my years at theological college to think contextually. What is God saying to us in this particular place and time? How does our situation, our environment, inform our understanding of the way God is acting in our lives right now? What does it have to say about God for us in both the short term and the long term? These are the kinds of questions which are important to ask, if we are seeking to live responsibly and responsively to the call of God in our lives.

    So, there’s a pretty good chance that we know something about wilderness. Apparently, according to Ms. Atwood, it’s part of who we are as Canadians. Even if we don’t spend a lot of time roaming around the wilderness, it is still part of our makeup. We could spend the whole winter hunkered down and especially if we are reading something Canadian in our centrally heated abodes, wilderness would still form a context for us that is different from some other peoples, simply because we are Canadians.

    The point of course is that our approach to wilderness times is different from the way people in other places, from other cultures, might respond. We look for wilderness, we like wilderness, we are often happiest when we are surrounded by wilderness. Yes, we like some of the creature comforts, but it feels good for us when other human habitation is out of sight and we are surrounded by nothing but trees, water, a few rocky outcroppings, a stretch of barren land, or a mountain range or two. How many of us, have artwork in our houses that depicts just such a theme? How many of us have pretty paintings of a small cabin in the woods, by the river or looking out on a mountain vista?

    Given this, it may seem weird for us to think of Jesus in the wilderness having a hard time. Many of us go to wilderness for a good time. For sure, there is a reason that Atwood used “Survival” as the title for her bibliography. We know that the wilderness can be a dangerous place. It’s important to be well trained and well prepared, but if we do that, we also know that wilderness is a place where we can find rest, refreshment, relief from the cares of everyday living, and renewal. Rather than a place of temptation - a place where we can be wooed by visions of power, prestige, and the ability to make bread from stones, wilderness becomes a place where we discover closeness with God. The trappings of life are cast away for a time while we live simply and have time for contemplation and reflection.

    I know this is in large part the kind of thinking that has led to the strong ascetic tradition in Christianity. We’ve all heard of religious orders of monks or sisters who live in community away from the temptations of the world around them and of hermits living in a cabin, spending time in reading, prayer and contemplation. This method of seeking closeness with God is a reflection of the ascetic tradition associated with Lent. We almost jokingly talk about “giving something up for Lent”, often by citing something we don’t like already. I’m giving up school for Lent is a pretty common one. I heard that one again, said in jest, at the pancake supper on Tuesday evening. It was followed by a serious rejoinder - a true “giving up” of something pleasurable, the content of which will be left in confidence, but which for me was a touching reminder that wisdom can come in unexpected ways. “I’m giving up church meetings for Lent” is a bit more complicated. I’ve heard of churches that have done that. It might be understood as a somewhat flippant response to a meaningful tradition, but closer inspection reveals that it can also be a gift - a few extra evenings at home over a few weeks, an evening here and there that can be used for a study group or bible study - it’s and idea not without merit.

    As I’ve mentioned, a wilderness escape is an opportunity to find closeness with God. That’s the same reasoning behind the ascetic tradition associated with Lent. Giving up a pleasure or convenience can help us to focus more clearly on the gifts we have from God. I like to think of it in terms of removing distractions rather than doing penance. I began this reflection by saying that one of the traditions of Lent is to think of it is as a time of contrition, confession - denying ourselves something we enjoy. That too, leads to ascetism, but it is also a path fraught with problems. I would much rather capture a tradition which helps us to focus on our relationship with God from a positive perspective than a relationship based on how bad we are. If it helps, how about developing a Lenten discipline. Add something to your life that helps you to focus on your relationship with God. Rather than give something up, do something extra. I’ve been reading “Singing a Song of Faith” the book of daily reflections for Lent. By the way, the two extra copies I advertised in the announcements have both been spoken for. That’s my Lenten discipline. It’s hard for me. I’ve tried to do this in other years with only moderate success. I’ve discovered that my personality type is one which delights in dabbling. I’ll try something for a while and then go on to something else. So, it’s good for me to have a defined time period, but Lent is pretty long. I’m right on track so far - I’ve read each reflection on the day intended, but I have a vacation trip ahead of me, and I’ll be the first to admit that it’s going to be a struggle to bring the discipline into my life for the next forty days or so. But I’ll try and in that trying I will spend at least a few moments each day thinking more closely about my relationship with God.

    The worship committee met a few weeks ago to do some planning for Lent and in that meeting we decided that the overarching theme of Lent would be “journey”. Today the journey begins by going away - into the wilderness - perhaps a scary one for some people but not for wilderness people like us. Maybe it’s more like a pleasant invitation to take a break, to rest up for the journey ahead and get ready. Bake some bread for the trip. We’ll be companions on this journey - there will be times when we walk by ourselves and times when we walk side by side. There will be detours - the optional added side trips - invitations to add an opportunity to discover new closeness with God. Com - panions literally people who share bread together along the way. The bread we eat is Jesus’ bread, and it is sweet and good. God bless the journey. Amen.