It’s the 40th day of Lent, a season that for Christians began on Ash Wednesday, which fell on Valentine’s Day this year, Feb. 14. Since this confluence only happens a few times a century, my congregation took the opportunity to observe a “Lent of Love.” In services, sermons, daily reflections and small group discussions, we’ve been considering how our Lenten practices of introspection, prayer, fasting and study can help us experience God’s love for us, and our love for God and each other.
Tonight is also the culmination of Holy Week, when after remembering in story and ritual Jesus’ Last Supper and crucifixion the last two nights, we’ll gather for the Great Vigil of Easter. “On this most holy night,” we say, “the Church invites her members, dispersed throughout the world, to gather in vigil and prayer.” We’ll kindle a fire in our garden outside and light a special candle, walking behind it into the darkened church for chanted prayers, Bible readings, baptisms and the First Eucharist of Easter.
I’m always grateful for baptisms at the vigil, for the extra joy they bring, and because it gives all of us a chance to renew our own baptismal promises. These include being faithful in study, fellowship, worship and prayer; resisting evil and repenting when we lose our way; and proclaiming the good news by word and example. And then three promises that feel even more challenging: we’re asked to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves; to strive for justice and peace among all people; and to respect the dignity of every human being. All persons, all people, every human being.
Looking for the holy in everyone, loving and serving our neighbors, seeking peace and justice, respecting everyone’s dignity — all this can feel like a tall order, especially at a time in our country and world when the dividing lines between people, between “us” and “them,” can feel insurmountable. But however difficult it is, it’s vital to remember that we are all God’s children. The more we can see our fellow human beings as beloved siblings rather than antagonists or competitors, the more we will be able to find creative solutions to the challenges we all face. “Love your neighbor,” a sign in front of our church reminds us, “who doesn’t look like you, think like you, love like you, speak like you, pray like you, vote like you. Love your neighbor — no exceptions.”
Maybe, even on the eve of Easter after a Lent of Love, it also helps to remember what we say on Ash Wednesday: “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It’s not such a bad thing; it says we’re of Earth, just as the word “human” comes from the Latin word “humus,” meaning earth or soil. So we’re also neighbors of the other inhabitants of our planet, and like them, we won’t live forever. “Everything grows,” a favorite song puts it, “everything has a season, ‘til it is gathered to the Father’s fold.” Humility (which comes from the same Latin root) reminds us that while we’re God’s partners in mending the world, it’s not all on us. We’re human, imperfect, limited — and it’s OK. God is God, and we’re not. But our mortality also means that our time on Earth is limited, so we should make the most of it.
We can do that by reaching out in love to our neighbors, in small and large ways. We can say hello and smile at the people whose paths we cross in our daily lives, trying to imagine how the world looks to them. We can take an extra minute to listen to someone, to help them feel a little less alone in the world. And we can notice the struggles of the people around us, who may need a little help, directly or indirectly. We can pay attention to the inequalities and injustices in our society, and use the gifts we have been given to work for change. We can be advocates for our siblings whose lives are harder than they should be.
Last week, I was one of more than 400 religious leaders who wrote to Gov. Glenn Youngkin urging him to reenact the bills to increase Virginia’s minimum wage. If signed, the bills would increase the minimum wage from its current $12 per hour to $13.50 in 2025 and to $15 in 2026. We are Jewish, Muslim, Unitarian and a variety of Christians from around the commonwealth, and we want our neighbors — more than 600,000 Virginians, disproportionately people of color and women — to be lifted out of poverty, to be able to afford housing, food and health care. Ensuring that these hardworking neighbors earn a living wage is one way of respecting their dignity, of loving them as ourselves.
On this most holy night, may that be our prayer and a promise we keep.
The Rev. Lisa Green is rector of St. Martin’s Episcopal Church in Williamsburg.
