February 22, 2026 – The First Sunday in Lent

Fr. Cal Calhoun

In the Name of God, the God who loves us enough to call us to Truth: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Have you noticed anything different this morning? Anything seem off today? I hope like heck you don’t answer that with a “No, it all seems the same.” If so, you are really tuned out, today!

Yes, we started the service with The Great Litany. A tradition on the First Sunday in Lent. The Great Litany is a centuries old form of prayer that covers just about all there is to pray for, and confesses just about everything there is to confess. Which is why this morning we will forego the Prayers of the People and the Confession, because we have really already done that work.

And a side note to newcomers and visitors: today’s service is not typical. It doesn’t look like this every Sunday.

So what is up?  Last Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, we started the season of Lent. Now if you were here on Wednesday, you know that that service was different too. People present had ashes rubbed on their foreheads in the shape of a cross. The ashes are imposed with the words, Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  Yeah, that’s different. It is a truth-telling moment. And you have likely heard the old cliché: the truth hurts. Well Ash Wednesday’s truth is a reminder of our mortality. That can be hard. When you are reminded of your mortality, you often take a hard look at yourself and are led to rearrange your priorities in a way that usually prioritizes relationships: your relationship with God, and your relationships with those you love. Because, faced with mortality, what could be more important than those relationships.

This Sunday, in our Gospel, we hear of Jesus, following his baptism, being led into the wilderness. The Gospel of Mark, says that the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, like he didn’t really have a choice. Which, to me, makes sense, because when we find ourselves in the wilderness, unless we are hiking or camping, we have seldom chosen to be there.

When I think of wilderness, I think about the places nearby that I am blessed to hike. Forests mostly, in this area around us that might be called a temperate rain forest. The Judean wilderness that Jesus ventured into is not anything like that. We visited the Judean wilderness on our trip to the Holy Land. It is a desert. But not a sand dune covered sort of place. There are these rolling hills, that are all more or less the same height. When you view them from a perspective slightly above, they might look like bread rolls on a baking pan. These hills are covered with what is more like gravel and dust than sand. Between these hills are ravines and if there is any foliage, any plants growing, it is in the ravines. You see, on the few occasions they get rain, the rain flows to the ravines. Additionally, the ravines only get full direct sunshine when the sun is directly overhead. Much of the rest of the day they have shade. So if anything can grow in this bleak landscape, it is in the ravines.

We have our own wildernesses. Wilderness is probably is more of an emotional journey for most of us. A time when unexpected events leave us shaken. Realizing that all the things we thought we could depend on, can’t always be depended on. Our wilderness might look like the loss of a job and the loss of security that follows. It might be the death of a loved one. That is another reminder of our own mortality, but it can also change our daily lives when someone we have built our life around is no longer there. So wilderness is another kind of truth telling isn’t it. A time when we have to deal with life on life’s terms, not our terms.

When we talk about Lent, we often quickly go to what are we giving up, as if a season without chocolate is comparable to wilderness. I know I have heard some of you claim that chocolate has a spiritual component, but I am skepti-Cal. When we think of Lent, we might also think of confession, as we make confession more prominent in our service, and talk about Lent as a season of penitence, a time to right our wrongs, to turn to God and away from those things that separate us from God.

I want you to think about Lent as a gift. A gift of truth telling. Telling the truth of our mortality. Telling the truth of what is really important, relationships, relationships with God and those we love. Telling the truth of the wilderness. In the wilderness, we may have to find our way to the ravines, in order to find growth.  Wilderness is hard, and yet it can so often be a place of healing and finding our strength in the midst of those life events we would never choose.

Lent does not begin with confession. Lent begins with love. The love of a God that is forever driven by mercy and compassion. A God whose love begins with truth telling.

So this Lent, if you are going to give up something, give up something that separates you from God and/or those you love. Maybe, instead of giving up something, you take something on. Maybe read a chapter of the Gospel of Luke each day. Maybe add 15 minutes of quiet, of listening time, to your prayers. Maybe add a real sabbath to your Sunday afternoon. No phones or social media or news. Maybe getting outside with those you love. And if the weather is lousy, a game day. Maybe read a novel and keep the TV off.

Lent can be like moving the furniture. Our service structure changes. The intention is that you are aware something has changed. On Ash Wednesday, Father Mark suggested you sit in a different place here in church during Lent, since we can’t really move the furniture in here. A different place gives you a different perspective. Sometimes knowing the truth includes approaching it from a different perspective. And an added benefit, it would give you the opportunity to share the Peace with a different set of folks!

Let this Lent be a gift from a loving God who is calling you to truth and love, compassion and healing. Calling you closer, drawing you into a closer relationship with God. That is what Lent is really about. Amen.

Year C  –  The Second Sunday after Epiphany  –   January 19, 2025   –   The Rev. Cal Calhoun