Heart-Broken                                                                                    from the Pastor

The Ballad of Reading Gaol*  

 --Oscar Wilde

…And thus we rust Life’s iron chain

degraded and alone:

And some men curse, and some men weep,

And some men make no moan:

But God’s eternal Laws are kind

And break the heart of stone.

And every human heart that breaks,

In prison-cell or yard,

Is as that broken box that gave

Its treasure to the Lord,

And filled the unclean leper’s house

With the scent of costliest nard.

Ah! Happy those whose hearts can break

And peace of pardon win!

How else may man make straight his plan

And cleanse his soul from Sin?

How else but through a broken heart

May Lord Christ enter in?

*an old, old word meaning “jail”

In February, hearts are everywhere… They are hanging from drugstore windows, piled high on convenience store shelves with those ridiculously scented fabric roses; they burst forth in sappy, love songs and corner jewelry stores.  February is filled with red hearts, cotton-candy colored hearts, paper-doily hearts, chocolate hearts, and references to romance, love, and relationships.  While we may associate February with Valentine’s Day on February 14th, (partners and spouses take note!), this year, the observance of Lent also begins in February—on Feb. 25th.  And Lent brings to February an interesting counter-point to the overflowing sentimentality of the month.

The hearts in which God seems to be particularly interested are not the kind that are found in card stores, but the broken, shattered, human kind which have suffered, and in their suffering, have become softened with compassion.  Have you ever had your heart broken?  Have you been disappointed or hurt or betrayed?  It’s hard to get through life without experiencing a broken heart which you feel has been caused by someone or something outside of yourself.  But what about those times that we, knowingly or unknowingly, break God’s heart through our own human sin?  What about those times when our actions shatter the great, beating, universal and communal heart of which we are a small, but necessary part?

We know that God cares about love and the substance of the human heart.  God seeks to turn our “hearts of stone” into “hearts of flesh.”  The psalmist prays, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me…” (see Psalm 51).  His words point to a yearning and a need for forgiveness.  The psalmist believes that God can teach him truth, wisdom, and true worship--that is not superficial, selfish, or self-righteous. 

Lent is a time when we examine the breakage of God’s heart and our own, that great jagged line that cuts through all of our endeavors to live in right relationship with our Creator and our fellow human beings.  It’s a season of purposeful self-examination; a time when we confess that we haven’t been the people that God has wanted us to be—in the big things and the little things, a time when we examine and “own up to” the harm and consequences of our own sin, while acknowledging our own mortality, our own limited time on earth.

If this sounds like a downer, it need not be.  Actually, Lent can be one of the more hopeful times of the year.  In the days of Lent, we realize how much we need God’s grace and we do “couples-counseling” with our brother, Jesus.  We learn to focus our hearts on the things that truly matter.  We begin to heal.

Yes, some people give things up for Lent.  Some abstain from drinking, chocolate, shopping, eating too much, or constantly checking their email.  When Lent is over, and their spiritual trial “complete,” they resume these things as if they never left them. The idea is not to prove that we are ascetics, the idea is to examine if the space and energy that we give to these “other loves” might be given to God instead.  For example, if we are tempted to over-consume, how does that break God’s heart by hurting ourselves or other people?

 The psalmist tells us that “a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”  Or in the words of Oscar Wilde, “How else but through a broken heart, may the Lord Christ enter in?”  Or in the lyrics of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Anthem’, “Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering/ There is a crack, a crack in everything/ That's how the light gets in/ That’s how the light gets in.”

May your hearts be broken for God,

and your Spirit healed this Lent and always.

In Christ,

Rev. Dee