Protestants and Lent at Agabus (mark adams)

Protestants and Lent

Jesus-Passion

“Well, Whitsuntide is here, and we are still separated,” wrote Dietrich Bonhoeffer to his parents from a Nazi prison in 1943, “but it is in a special way a feast of fellowship.” He was referring to Pentecost, one of many feasts once celebrated by all Christians. Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor, and his prison letters reflect an abiding joy in the liturgical calendar. “The time between Easter and Ascension has always been particularly important to me,” he wrote to his fiancee’s mother. “Our gaze is directed to the last thing of all, but we still have our tasks, our joys and our sorrows on this earth and the power of living is granted to us by Easter.”

via WORLD Magazine | Community | Blog Archive | The bond of tradition.

I haven’t observed Lent since my youth (though it’s possible I practiced Lent shortly after my conversion, but I don’t remember). On Ash Wednesday, we’d go to church, the priest would make the sign of the cross in ash on our foreheads, and we’d abstain from some particular thing during the period between Ash Wednesday and Easter. I did not then fully appreciate the Cross. While I confessed Jesus’ death and resurrection, I did not believe, so Lent was in some sense an empty gesture… but not meaningless. Later, I would be drawn to Jesus and transformed, the memories of Lent indelibly marked on my consciousness.

Over the years, I’ve developed an interest in “passion” music, compositions celebrating Christ’s death. The most notable passion is Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion, first performed in 1727. Passions are not pieces one “appreciates” as good music, but rather pieces that inspire reflection. In the 1700s, a sermon would be preached between the two halves of the composition. Afterwards, congregants would go home, reflecting on the great sacrifice, and return Easter Sunday for the resurrection. A resurrection oratorio often would be performed (Bach composed a number of these).

To spend time reflecting on the Cross, not merely commemorating it once a year, seems advisable. Each year, I listen to one of my passion recordings (I do not generally listen to them in “ordinary” time). I think of the great suffering the artist endured, composing what was for him (or her) generally a difficult task — not in the composition, but in the subject matter. I look for the nuances of the performance, the treatment of Christ’s words, the depth of Christ’s sufferings. In the end, I encounter not a great work, but a great act; not a great composition, but a great passion.

This year I plan to listen to Arvo Part’s Passio, or perhaps Bach’s St. John’s Passion (which I regard more highly than his more esteemed St. Matthew’s). I will again consider the great suffering of our Lord, and pray that God would move in my heart, stir my own heart to passion. The celebration of Lent is not a mere religious commemoration, but an entire transformation of the soul, so that Christ’s death and passion embolden ones entire being.

Arvo Part’s Passio (live recording, a bit harsh at first):