If you remember nothing else from today, please remember that you are worthy. For who you are. Because you are, and scripture affirms this time and time again.
But look, I realize that we are in Lent and that Lent is a season of penitence, reflection, and acknowledgment of our spiritual depravity; and, normally, I love sitting in this place. Lent is genuinely my favorite liturgical season because it brings to life the beauty of our mortality and teaches us to embrace death as part of life. Lent teaches us to draw closer to God via the cycle of creation. So, when Mother Nan asked me to fill in today, I fully intended to preach a very Lent-inspired sermon. Fasting, penitence, piety, death to death à the whole thing. Yet, as I went to write that sermon, the words felt inorganic; inauthentic to the movement of the Holy Spirit within me. Instead, I couldn’t help but hear a theme of worthiness amidst the texts of suffering, trial, and strife. This theme of worthiness? This is what spoke to me. Why? Because I – and likely, all of us – are surrounded by narratives of unworthiness. We’re told that we are not good enough, not right enough, not smart enough, not strong enough. We’re told that we are depraved, broken, or nothing more than our sinful nature. Our texts today highlight this messaging. And, if we’re not careful, then we could be tempted to only hear this part of the message. Only hear that we are unworthy, flawed, undignified. But, there is another part to this message. For every message that can be read as we are unworthy, we can also see the worth in that message. In our OT lesson, we read of the Israelites wandering in the desert, expressing anger at Moses and at God for leading them into the desert with no food or drink. Yet, instead of scolding or condemning them, God provided water. The Israelites were still worthy of love, care, and compassion – even in their anger and fear. In our Gospel lesson, we read of Jesus talking with a Samaritan woman. Culturally, Jesus – as both a man and a Jew – should never have been talking to this gentile woman. Yet, first, Jesus approached this woman to ask her for water. Second, when this woman asked Jesus for the water of eternal life, Jesus gave it to her. Jesus, who we know was fully human and fully God, extended God’s love to the cultural other. This woman was still worthy of love, care, and compassion – in her identity, as she was. Then, in our Epistle, Paul expresses that Christ died for us, and is sacrificed for us every time we participate in the Eucharist, for how we are, however we are. We could be ungodly, unrighteous, weak, sinners, and enemies – and this love is still extended to us. Instead of dangling love like a reward, we are all still worthy of love, care, and compassion – even when we feel most unworthy. We are always worthy of God’s love, even when our minds get in the way. Because we are not worthy despite who any of us is; but rather, for who we are. We are worthy simply because we are. This Lent, may you know that you are enough, created from dust by God, loved by God in your humanity, and eventually to be lovingly brought back to God. From dust to dust, and every breath in between, you are enough. Amen. |