Tonight we would’ve gathered around tables in fellowship hall to share a potluck meal and a time of fellowship. I would’ve washed and blessed your hands as we gathered to remember how Jesus washed the disciples’ feet and gave them a new commandment—to love one another as he had loved them. Instead of giving thanks around a table, I choose to still give thanks for the good news of this commandment in a time when it seems good news is in short supply.
It’s good to be reminded that our faith, which is hopefully strengthened by worshiping together, is not dependent on church attendance—that, thankfully for me, following Jesus isn’t contingent on how good your potluck dish is. What matters is most is that we love one another. So as much as I want to be with you tonight—as much as I want to eat your delicious potluck dishes, I’m giving thanks that love holds us together even it means keeping our distance for a time in this season.
A friend and colleague recently reminded me that our faith tradition has a spiritual practice that resonates with our inability to gather to worship or share a meal. It’s a practice most of us don’t really pay much attention to these days. But our current situation has prompted us into an unsolicited but no less sacred fast.
Lent is a time of fasting. Some of us may have tried “giving up something” for Lent, but this is usually more a matter of self-discipline than the deprivation and anguish of a true fast. Beloved of God, we are in the midst of an arduous fast that is taking its toll on us both physically and spiritually. Deprived of our common meal and abstaining from gathering together, our bodies and souls long to be reunited.
The prophet Isaiah had some pretty strong words to say about proper and improper fasting: Because when you fast, it’s business as usual, and you oppress all your workers! Because when you fast, you quarrel and fight and strike the poor with your fists! Fasting like this will never make your voice heard on high! Is that the sort of fast that pleases me—a day when people humiliate themselves, hanging their heads like a reed, lying down on sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call fasting, a day acceptable to God? On the contrary! This is the sort of fast that pleases me: Remove the chains of injustice! Undo the ropes of the yoke! Let those who are oppressed go free, and break every yoke you encounter! Share your bread with those who are hungry, and shelter the homeless! Clothe those who are naked, and don’t hid from the needs of your own flesh and blood! Do this, and your light will shine like the dawn—and your healing will break forth like lightning! (Isaiah 58:3-8)
So as you feel the pangs of this sacred fast in your body and soul, know that it is for the healing of the land. And as you prepare your table tonight—as you let your heart grieve and lament those not with you around that table, remember that Christ’s love unites us in spirit and empowers us to keep loving one another in these trying times.
In Love,
Pastor Annette