3 Pillars: A Sermon for 1 Lent

The Rev’d Richard G. Proctor, OA

CtK Episcopal Church

1 Lent, Year C; 3.6.22

Historically speaking, the three pillars of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. And the Episcopal Churches of which I have been a part in my lifetime have typically done a good job of lifting up the first two pillars – prayer and fasting. It was and still is common for us to make a concerted effort to be more faithful in our prayer lives during Lent. We might commit to attending church every week if that is something that we normally don’t do. Or we might decide to pray the Daily Office, read a Lenten devotional book, or perhaps even pick up a new practice like Centering Prayer. And whether we actually follow through with it or not for the entirety of Lent, the expectation and intent is there. During Lent, we have been taught that this is a good time to re-orient our lives and priorities towards prayer and worship.

The Church has also have done a good job of holding up the Lenten pillar of fasting throughout history. Perhaps that is the #1 pillar on our consciousness – as were are so apt to ask “What are you giving up for Lent this year?” We actually might find it easier to give up something like meat on Fridays, chocolate, or alcohol than to commit to daily prayer and weekly worship attendance. And, depending on what you choose to give up, the results might be more immediately gratifying and noticeable than the slow, steady effect that a rhythm of daily prayer and weekly worship can have upon us.

Of course, if we do both – commit to a deeper life of prayer and engage in the holy discipline of fasting, we will likely be well on our way to more meaningful relationships with both God, our neighbors, and ourselves.

But what about the third pillar of Lent? What about almsgiving? Interestingly, in the Book of Common Prayer’s service for Ash Wednesday, we are invited to observe Lent “by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” All good things. And the first two historical pillars of Lent – prayer and fasting – are certainly there. But what about almsgiving? Why isn’t it mentioned?

Has almsgiving – or charitable giving to the poor – become less of a priority – whether it is in Lent or not - in the modern and post-modern church? Or is it perhaps such a large priority of ours that giving money to the poor just goes without saying, and shouldn’t be to relegated to just the 40 days of Lent? I think that both cases can be argued.

What I am most curious about is why almsgiving is no longer listed as a Lenten discipline in the Book of Common Prayer. And I’m curious as to how we might recover this discipline as something to prayerfully wrestle with during the holy season of Lent. This year, our annual stewardship campaign has fallen during the   Lenten season. Might our commitment to prayer and fasting inform our commitment to almsgiving – both to the church and to others? Some of the largest and most difficult decisions we make in a given year have to do with money. How might we use this season that is focused on prayer and fasting to help inform these important financial decisions?

The common thread running through the disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving is how we prioritize the choices we make. Praying more – or praying differently - involves reordering how we prioritize our time. Eating and drinking with more intentionality involves prioritizing our needs over our desires. And how we choose to spend our money also involves a re-orientation of priorities. The 17th-century English poet and priest John Donne noted that our first call as Christians is to address the poverty within our own selves before we can expect to address the poverty that is around us. Once we are transformed by a renewed commitment to prayer and fasting, we will inevitably hear God’s call to share the fruit that our good, faithful work has generated.

Today’s lesson from Deuteronomy frames the discipline of almsgiving within the context of holy memory and gratitude. The abundant blessings of God that the Israelites were enjoying in the land of Canaan were to be shared first, and then enjoyed. And when the Israelites presented the first fruits of their harvest to the priest, they were to recite the freedom story of their ancestors by memory - “The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.”

Notice that the gift back to God is to be grounded in gratitude, not shame or guilt. Somehow, through the centuries, the season of Lent and practice of almsgiving  have taken on – whether intentional or not – a hint of shame and guilt. But that is not the idea or the point. The ashes we receive on our foreheads at Ash Wednesday are celebration and reminder of the fact that when God created us out of dust, God created us in his very own image. And the ashes on our foreheads are our public affirmation that we are working on living into that image more faithfully. Like the Israelites’ gift of the first fruits of their harvest, our ashes are a mark of holy remembering and gratitude, not shame and guilt.

But the reading from Deuteronomy doesn’t end with the gift being placed on the altar and the recitation of the story. It goes on to say, “Then you, together with the Levites and the aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord your God has given to you and to your house.” So, the holy gift of almsgiving ends up being not just a sacrifice on the altar. It ends up being bounty that is shared with the Israelites, the Levites, and all the aliens who resided in the Promised Land. Somehow, there was enough to go around. Somehow, it all worked out, for everybody – even those outside of their religious community.

Almsgiving – whether in ancient Israel or in our context here today – doesn’t have to be grounded in guilt, shame, or what we “ought to do.” If we frame it within the holy disciplines of prayer and fasting, and if we ground it in gratitude for who God is and what God has done for not only us but those who came before us, almsgiving can become a joyful practice for us as individuals and us as a community. “Then [we], together with those who reside in our community and beyond, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord our God has given to us and to our house.”

Historically speaking, the three pillars of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. And the Episcopal Churches of which I have been a part in my lifetime have typically done a good job of lifting up the first two pillars – prayer and fasting. It was and still is common for us to make a concerted effort to be more faithful in our prayer lives during Lent. We might commit to attending church every week if that is something that we normally don’t do. Or we might decide to pray the Daily Office, read a Lenten devotional book, or perhaps even pick up a new practice like Centering Prayer. And whether we actually follow through with it or not for the entirety of Lent, the expectation and intent is there. During Lent, we have been taught that this is a good time to re-orient our lives and priorities towards prayer and worship.

The Church has also have done a good job of holding up the Lenten pillar of fasting throughout history. Perhaps that is the #1 pillar on our consciousness – as were are so apt to ask “What are you giving up for Lent this year?” We actually might find it easier to give up something like meat on Fridays, chocolate, or alcohol than to commit to daily prayer and weekly worship attendance. And, depending on what you choose to give up, the results might be more immediately gratifying and noticeable than the slow, steady effect that a rhythm of daily prayer and weekly worship can have upon us.

Of course, if we do both – commit to a deeper life of prayer and engage in the holy discipline of fasting, we will likely be well on our way to more meaningful relationships with both God, our neighbors, and ourselves.

But what about the third pillar of Lent? What about almsgiving? Interestingly, in the Book of Common Prayer’s service for Ash Wednesday, we are invited to observe Lent “by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” All good things. And the first two historical pillars of Lent – prayer and fasting – are certainly there. But what about almsgiving? Why isn’t it mentioned?

Has almsgiving – or charitable giving to the poor – become less of a priority – whether it is in Lent or not - in the modern and post-modern church? Or is it perhaps such a large priority of ours that giving money to the poor just goes without saying, and shouldn’t be to relegated to just the 40 days of Lent? I think that both cases can be argued.

What I am most curious about is why almsgiving is no longer listed as a Lenten discipline in the Book of Common Prayer. And I’m curious as to how we might recover this discipline as something to prayerfully wrestle with during the holy season of Lent. This year, our annual stewardship campaign has fallen during the   Lenten season. Might our commitment to prayer and fasting inform our commitment to almsgiving – both to the church and to others? Some of the largest and most difficult decisions we make in a given year have to do with money. How might we use this season that is focused on prayer and fasting to help inform these important financial decisions?

The common thread running through the disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving is how we prioritize the choices we make. Praying more – or praying differently - involves reordering how we prioritize our time. Eating and drinking with more intentionality involves prioritizing our needs over our desires. And how we choose to spend our money also involves a re-orientation of priorities. The 17th-century English poet and priest John Donne noted that our first call as Christians is to address the poverty within our own selves before we can expect to address the poverty that is around us. Once we are transformed by a renewed commitment to prayer and fasting, we will inevitably hear God’s call to share the fruit that our good, faithful work has generated.

Today’s lesson from Deuteronomy frames the discipline of almsgiving within the context of holy memory and gratitude. The abundant blessings of God that the Israelites were enjoying in the land of Canaan were to be shared first, and then enjoyed. And when the Israelites presented the first fruits of their harvest to the priest, they were to recite the freedom story of their ancestors by memory - “The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.”

Notice that the gift back to God is to be grounded in gratitude, not shame or guilt. Somehow, through the centuries, the season of Lent and practice of almsgiving  have taken on – whether intentional or not – a hint of shame and guilt. But that is not the idea or the point. The ashes we receive on our foreheads at Ash Wednesday are celebration and reminder of the fact that when God created us out of dust, God created us in his very own image. And the ashes on our foreheads are our public affirmation that we are working on living into that image more faithfully. Like the Israelites’ gift of the first fruits of their harvest, our ashes are a mark of holy remembering and gratitude, not shame and guilt.

But the reading from Deuteronomy doesn’t end with the gift being placed on the altar and the recitation of the story. It goes on to say, “Then you, together with the Levites and the aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord your God has given to you and to your house.” So, the holy gift of almsgiving ends up being not just a sacrifice on the altar. It ends up being bounty that is shared with the Israelites, the Levites, and all the aliens who resided in the Promised Land. Somehow, there was enough to go around. Somehow, it all worked out, for everybody – even those outside of their religious community.

Almsgiving – whether in ancient Israel or in our context here today – doesn’t have to be grounded in guilt, shame, or what we “ought to do.” If we frame it within the holy disciplines of prayer and fasting, and if we ground it in gratitude for who God is and what God has done for not only us but those who came before us, almsgiving can become a joyful practice for us as individuals and us as a community. “Then [we], together with those who reside in our community and beyond, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord our God has given to us and to our house.”