The days are definitely getting longer here. I notice it in the mornings when I have occasionally been opening the blinds in the kitchen before breakfast. I notice it in the early evenings, when it stays light until time for dinner. One thing about living in a more northern location is that the change in the length of days is really dramatic. Not only are the days shorter in the winter and longer in the summer, the rate of change in the spring and fall are especially dramatic. In two more weeks we’ll be moving the clocks forward and we’ll really notice the difference in the evenings.

The name of the season, Lent, comes from the same root as the word “lengthen.” It is partly a reference to the lengthening of the days in the northern hemisphere. The observance of Lent varies widely among Christian churches. I’ve lived inside of the lectionary and the worship cycles of the church for so many years that the changing of seasons is just a part of the way I’ve lived. My own background has not emphasized giving up things for the season, but I admit I have used Lent as an opportunity to attempt to lose weight many times. It seems natural to lose weight in the spring as there is generally more sitting at home in the winter than in the summer. Vanity has led me to pay attention to how my clothing fits as I think about dressing up for Easter even though my dressing up hasn’t been very dramatic. For all of my active career, I wore suits and ties to worship every week. Things are a lot more casual in our new church home, but I still plan on dressing up a bit for Easter.

Six weeks is long enough to change habits if one focuses attention on reasonable goals. I have been grateful simply for the discipline of being more mindful of how I live my life. Often I fall into patterns of behavior without thinking about it much. Lent is an invitation to live more deliberately, choosing the behaviors that are most meaningful to me, enjoying the everyday a bit more, focusing my attention on what matters.

For me, more than other things, Lent is an opportunity to practice grief. It is a reminder of the mortality of all humans, including myself and the ones who are closest to me. None of us will go on forever. That means that each of us will necessarily face times of loss and grief. The season of Lent offers an invitation to look closely at the grief experienced by Jesus’ disciples as we recall his entry into Jerusalem and, during holy week, his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. Practicing grief helps us discover ways to cope with intense grief when it comes into our lives.

In the church we grieve as a community. When loss occurs, we come together and share rituals of farewell. At funerals, we engage in familiar forms of worship even though nothing seems to be normal. We share meals, tell stories, and recall the one who has died. We provide safe spaces for those who are grieving to express their emotions and accept those emotions with love and support. We acknowledge that grief is real and visit those who are experiencing loneliness.

It is not uncommon for church services during Lent to be a bit more somber. In our current church home, we do not usually have a prayer of confession in our worship, but it returns during Lent along with a weekly appeal for mercy. The prayer of confession and Kyrie add a sense of heaviness and somberness that can be a new sensation for some worshipers. It is important, however, that we remember that grief has many languages and not all of them are somber and quiet. Whenever I have been privileged to sit with those who have experienced the recent loss of a loved one I have also heard laughter. Sometimes it is nervous laughter as if those laughing are unsure whether or not it is acceptable to laugh. Sometimes it is a genuine belly laugh prompted by an especially amusing story or memory. I often say that the tears of grief and the tears of laughter mix on our cheeks. When I was a pastor, I thought of opportunities for the congregation to laugh in the midst of Lent. Now as a minister of Christian Education, I think about the children’s moments I lead during worship and how they can provide just a touch of comic relief in the midst of the season. Humor is a powerful tool and one has to be careful to use in in appropriate doses, but a little laughter during the time with children is a way to release some of the tension during a somber season.

On this first Sunday of Lent, I carry years of experience with me as I enter the church. I am well aware that other faithful folks bring different experiences with them to worship. Some have grown up in very liturgical churches and have specific memories of the season. Others have little or no experience with the seasons of the church and need to learn more to understand the changes in liturgy and mood. Over the years, I have seen a lot of grief. I have officiated at a lot of funerals. I have sat with a lot of families as they traveled through the process of the loss of loved ones. I have learned that one does not get over grief. It lingers and becomes a part of one’s identity and, over the years, piles layer upon layer on one’s soul.

We are not weighed down, however, when we are able to honestly express our grief. Past experiences of grief can lead to deeper understanding and less fear. Being familiar with the path that lies ahead might not make the journey any less strenuous. Grief is a difficult road. That reality is why we practice grief in the season - to gain the endurance that will be required of us by life itself.

May your lenten journey be meaningful this year and may you remember that you are not alone in the journey. This season in the life of the church is a reminder that we travel together in community.