A Sermon for Lent 2, Year C.
Find the readings here.
When the Coronavirus pandemic struck five years ago this month, we had no idea what to expect, least of all how we might be forced to adapt and change because of it. Quite naturally, fear ensued. We’re still processing it. This week I came across a New York Times article about how Covid changed the lives of 29 people. Here are just a few examples:
In response to the uncertainty of the future and the protracted fear of contracting Covid, 72-year-old Donna Sintic from Santa Monica, California gave up trying to control things that were out of her control. She found herself becoming more grateful.
Sarah Kelly, 35, from Winston Salem, North Carolina, who was finishing graduate school when Covid hit, ran out of her savings, moved back to her hometown and lives a much simpler life with the unanticipated joy of a five-month-old baby girl.
Miguel Guzman, 56 from San Antonio, nearly died after contracting Covid. He is grateful to be alive and play his mariachi music. He says when he was facing his own death, he was most concerned about his family and how they would manage without him.
A funeral director, Shawn’te Harvell, 56, from Elizabeth, NJ, was appalled by the way funerals changed during the pandemic. Sometimes it would be just the funeral home director and the deceased at the cemetery with families joining on Facetime. Shawn’te says Covid caused him to reevaluate the way he approaches funerals.
A 22-year-old from Rosemont, Minnesota, Charles Huang, has never had Covid. He is still fearful in public and chooses to mask. Charles says the isolation is ongoing and painful.[1]
The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom then shall I fear, writes the psalmist.
Umm…let’s see, where to begin: reckless drivers, reckless politicians, doctors with scary diagnoses, drug dealers, arms dealers, bullies…friends who talk you into paragliding.
I am afraid of heights. On our recent vacation, we were on a narrow, windy unpaved road leading down, down, down, through the jungle to see one of those magnificent Costa Rican waterfalls when a motorcycle sped past us. At the bottom, the waterfall was beautiful. So was the young man disrobing down to his underwear and heading into the water. When he realized he had company, underwear motorcycle guy was totally unfazed. We made small talk as he emerged from the water, tugged on jeans, tee shirt and helmet, and revved up his bike. As he zoomed off, my husband Rob said, “There goes Tarzan.” The six of us, old college friends, had a good laugh.
A couple of days later, I breathed through my fear of heights and accepted the challenge to go paragliding. My reward? My personal paragliding tour guide turned out to be Tarzan, the underwear-motorcycle guy. And he was just as charming and unruffled at 1500 feet as he was coming up and out of the water. Clearly, it’s all about faith.
Abram, later renamed Abraham, had faith—the quintessential patriarch also doubted. A lot. Like the dreaded circle of death on our computer screens, Abraham’s faith signal would be strong, then flicker, and then, return again as he struggled over his identity, his paternity, and even his masculinity.[3] Throughout his exceptionally long life, in his quest for a reliable, uninterrupted connection with God, Abraham offers consolation for our own often awkward, complicated faith journeys. God works through Abraham to propagate and populate and prove that God always makes good on God’s promises. But knowing when to wait and when to act can be tricky.
At age 86, in one example of flickering faith, Abraham and his wife Sarah decide to take matters into their own hands and start their family by forcing their servant Hagar to be their surrogate. Perhaps Father Abraham had developed a case of temporary amnesia, forgetting God’s promised vision, forgetting his own vision of light, still burning strong in the middle of his “deep terrifying darkness.”
Jesus, on the other hand, demonstrates for us how to stay the course even when things seem darkest. Last Sunday, Jesus was in the wilderness preparing for his ministry, this week Luke’s Gospel takes us to Jesus’ final weeks on the job. Despite having received his termination letter, Jesus is finishing up strong with no time for that “fox” Herod. His sights are set on Jerusalem, where prophets go to die. Fun fact: Jerusalem is mentioned 800 times in the Bible. Luke mentions it 23 times, more than any of the other three Gospels. Fellow etymology nerds might appreciate the meaning behind the name: Jerusalem means to inherit shalom, peace or wholeness.[4]
Jerusalem is in Jesus’ future. And he seems unafraid. Perhaps because he knows fear distracts us from our purpose. That fear prevents us from exercising our faith muscles, keeping us stuck in unhealthy patterns and habits. Perhaps because Jesus is fully awake to the light within; that perfect love that casts out all fear (1 John 4:18).
Love that emboldens us to stand up for justice.[5]
Love that keeps us centered and present.
Love that embraces vulnerability.
Love that makes God’s presence more palpable – some call this union or oneness, the peace that passes all understanding… This love can carry us through just about anything.
There was a prayer jar in the meditation room of the hospital where I completed my clinical pastoral education last year. Each day as my chaplain colleagues and I pulled out the small scraps of paper on which people scribbled their darkest worries and fears, we were reminded of a strange paradox: It takes so much courage, it’s really the bravest among us, who can fully accept our total dependence on God.
Be strong and God will comfort your heart.
My friends, wholeness comes through both strength and vulnerability. A healthy balance of masculine and feminine… 14th Century anchoress, two-time pandemic survivor and theologian, Julian of Norwich, shared her vision of God: “As truly as God is our Father, God is our Mother.”[6]
The Covid-19 pandemic may have changed us. And most assuredly the world will go on changing. And yet God’s love burns strong, in the middle of our darkest fears. Like a mother hen, God gathers us for such a time as this, enfolding us in Her love, even as He emboldens us for service to the world. May it be so.
[1] Jenna Russell and Christina Morales, “How Covid Changed the Lives of These 29 Americans,” The New York Times, March 11, 2025, sec. U.S., https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2025/03/10/us/covid-19-changed-people.html.
[2] Buechner, 4.
[3] Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words, New York, (Harper Collins, 2004), 109.
[4] “Jerusalem Etymology Online, Origin and Meaning,” accessed March 8, 2025, https://etymologyworld.com/item/jerusalem.
[5] “Pauli Murray Center Denounces Removal of the Priest’s Biography from National Park Service Website,” Episcopal News Service (blog), March 10, 2025, https://episcopalnewsservice.org/2025/03/10/pauli-murray-center-denounces-removal-of-the-priests-biography-from-national-park-service-website/.
[6] “Julian the Theologian,” The Christian Century, accessed March 14, 2025, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/features/julian-theologian.
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