So I've been reading this little book, A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy. There's a lot of good stuff in there that I’ve written about in the past. I have now reached that point in the book where the author is discussing the Catholic and Protestant views of the two major sacraments – Baptism and Eucharist. There is some good discussion here about these two sacraments and how the two views could be incorporated into a more cohesive whole.
However (confession time here), right about now I find myself saying, “Well, of course!” quite a bit; and it's not because he has suddenly gotten less insightful. It's because he is focusing on the differences between Catholic and Protestant views, and those views, when brought together into a more cohesive whole, are very Episcopalian. Which means I'm currently having difficulty getting past the obviousness of it all.
But there was one thing he said that caught my attention, and that was the term “Real Presence.” When we say or read that term, most of us immediately think of Communion and the change that happens to the bread and wine as they become the Body and Blood, infused with the Real Presence of Christ. Depending on who you talk to, that change happens during the course of the Eucharist, at the Institution Narrative (“On the night he was handed over . . .”), or during the epiclesis (“Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit . . .”). That change, though, is part of the holy mystery of our worship. Although we believe that the elements have been changed in a major way, a DNA test would not reveal that change; which is why we consider it a mystery.
In discussing the Real Presence of Christ, Fr. Jones expands that term to include the Real Presence of Christ throughout the entire Eucharistic celebration. What if, instead of limiting the Real Presence of Christ to the bread and wine become Body and Blood, we recognized the Real Presence of Christ present in the Scripture readings from the first part of the service? What if we recognized the Real Presence in both Word and Sacrament?
Holy Week begins this Sunday with Palm/Passion Sunday and will move into the Triduum, the single liturgical event spanning from Maundy Thursday to the Easter Vigil. A major part of these services involves hearing readings from Scripture. On both Palm/Passion Sunday and Good Friday, we hear and participate in the reading of the Passion. On Maundy Thursday we hear Scripture during the Liturgy of the Word, and we will hear Psalm 22 read as the altar is stripped. Holy Saturday involves more listening. And at the Easter Vigil we will hear the Exsultet sung, we hear the record of God's saving deeds in history, we hear the various canticles and prayers, and we hear again the words of our baptismal covenant.
There is a whole lot of Word in the liturgies of Holy Week.
Instead of sitting through these readings waiting to get to the “real thing,” what if we saw the totality of the Eucharist as the Real Thing? What if we saw the Holy Mystery of the Real Presence of Christ not only in the elements of bread and wine, but in the form of scriptural warrant?
This Holy Week, and beyond, I invite you to see and participate in the holy mystery of Christ's presence in all parts of the liturgy.
Amen.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
March 9, 2016
I serve as the vice president for the Board of football officials. This past Monday we had our first board meeting of the year and discussed such thrilling topics as scheduling, certification, game fees, attraction and retention, meeting dates from July to November, and board meeting dates from now until July.
As we began talking about meeting dates for the board, the president said, “Hey, Rev . . . when is Easter this year?”
“March 27.”
“Oh . . . that would explain why I couldn't find it on the April calendar.”
Somebody else wondered out loud if he thought maybe Easter had been canceled this year. I informed them that, no, Easter had not been canceled.
Which brings me to today. This isn't so much a “Wednesday Word” as much as it is a “Wednesday Reminder.” Easter has not been canceled. Neither has Palm/Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday. In fact, all of Holy Week will continue as it always has – with our celebration of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, our participation in his last meal and our desertion, the remembrance of his crucifixion and death, all culminating in the joyous events of Easter Day.
Two weeks from today we will be in the middle of Holy Week. The Triduum, the great three days, will begin on Maundy Thursday with our shared meal and final Eucharist of the week. Over those three days we experience and participate in the mystery of dying and rising again. This is the time when we pass over from death to life. This is THE central event of Christianity – Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.
As has been said so often by so many: before you get to Easter, you have to go through Good Friday. There is no resurrection without death. The great paradox of Christianity is that in order to live, you must first die. The Triduum, as an overarching event, allows us to catch a glimpse of that holy movement. For us to truly understand and appreciate Easter, we must make the journey with Jesus and his disciples through the last meal, desertion by his friends, and his death and burial.
Holy Week is just over a week away. And for as much as we see the Triduum encompassing three days and three different services, it is, in fact, one long, unified liturgy. It begins with the gathering on Maundy Thursday and ends at the Resurrection. I encourage you, to the best of your ability, to make this a priority and attend all the events of this liturgical centerpiece of our faith.
May you have a blessed Holy Week.
Amen.
As we began talking about meeting dates for the board, the president said, “Hey, Rev . . . when is Easter this year?”
“March 27.”
“Oh . . . that would explain why I couldn't find it on the April calendar.”
Somebody else wondered out loud if he thought maybe Easter had been canceled this year. I informed them that, no, Easter had not been canceled.
Which brings me to today. This isn't so much a “Wednesday Word” as much as it is a “Wednesday Reminder.” Easter has not been canceled. Neither has Palm/Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday. In fact, all of Holy Week will continue as it always has – with our celebration of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, our participation in his last meal and our desertion, the remembrance of his crucifixion and death, all culminating in the joyous events of Easter Day.
Two weeks from today we will be in the middle of Holy Week. The Triduum, the great three days, will begin on Maundy Thursday with our shared meal and final Eucharist of the week. Over those three days we experience and participate in the mystery of dying and rising again. This is the time when we pass over from death to life. This is THE central event of Christianity – Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.
As has been said so often by so many: before you get to Easter, you have to go through Good Friday. There is no resurrection without death. The great paradox of Christianity is that in order to live, you must first die. The Triduum, as an overarching event, allows us to catch a glimpse of that holy movement. For us to truly understand and appreciate Easter, we must make the journey with Jesus and his disciples through the last meal, desertion by his friends, and his death and burial.
Holy Week is just over a week away. And for as much as we see the Triduum encompassing three days and three different services, it is, in fact, one long, unified liturgy. It begins with the gathering on Maundy Thursday and ends at the Resurrection. I encourage you, to the best of your ability, to make this a priority and attend all the events of this liturgical centerpiece of our faith.
May you have a blessed Holy Week.
Amen.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
March 2, 2016
Last Saturday the women of the D.O.K. had their semiannual Quiet Day at the church. These started a few years ago when they asked me to lead a day of guided prayer and quiet time for reflection. Over those years I have presented them with themes of A Marian Advent, Easter 3 & 4 Collects, Sayings of the Desert Fathers, and Praying the Psalms. The theme for this past Saturday was Mary Magdalene.
In short, the day is focused on three long silent periods during which the women can make use of a question or thought presented to them for prayer and meditation. These three periods follow Morning Prayer, Holy Eucharist, and lunch. The day closes with Evening Prayer and a final thought of the day. It must be working for them because they keep asking for these Quiet Days.
While the women are scattered throughout the building deep in prayer or thought or contemplation of one kind or another, I also make use of the quiet time doing some reading, going over Sunday's sermon, or letting the sounds and words of ancient church music wash over me. While this is designed as a Quiet Day for the D.O.K., I also participate and find it helpful.
It was during this latest Quiet Day that I noticed something . . . quiet days are LOUD. Birds angrily chirp at each other in some kind of territorial argument. Footsteps echo in the quiet building as one or more of the participants move around to stretch their legs. People cough. Traffic noises are more noticeable. The building creaks. Furnaces kick on and off. These may be Quiet Days, but they are certainly not silent.
As I sat in the quiet of the not-so-silent Quiet Day, I asked myself, “Where do people hear God?”
One of my favorite passages in the Bible comes from 1 Kings 19 – “But the Lord was not in the wind, the Lord was not in the earthquake, the Lord was not in the fire, and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” God was not, in this instance, in any of the big events, but in the sound of sheer silence.
On any given day, I hear traffic, footsteps, voices, wind, rain, arguments, furnaces, and any number of other things. Most of the time I tune them out and they become so much white noise that I simply ignore as I go about my day. But by tuning out all those noises, by not paying attention to them, by not acknowledging the silence that brings them to the fore, am I also not paying attention to the voice of God? Am I tuning out God as just so much background noise?
This Lent, spend some time in quiet; what you hear just might surprise you.
Amen.
In short, the day is focused on three long silent periods during which the women can make use of a question or thought presented to them for prayer and meditation. These three periods follow Morning Prayer, Holy Eucharist, and lunch. The day closes with Evening Prayer and a final thought of the day. It must be working for them because they keep asking for these Quiet Days.
While the women are scattered throughout the building deep in prayer or thought or contemplation of one kind or another, I also make use of the quiet time doing some reading, going over Sunday's sermon, or letting the sounds and words of ancient church music wash over me. While this is designed as a Quiet Day for the D.O.K., I also participate and find it helpful.
It was during this latest Quiet Day that I noticed something . . . quiet days are LOUD. Birds angrily chirp at each other in some kind of territorial argument. Footsteps echo in the quiet building as one or more of the participants move around to stretch their legs. People cough. Traffic noises are more noticeable. The building creaks. Furnaces kick on and off. These may be Quiet Days, but they are certainly not silent.
As I sat in the quiet of the not-so-silent Quiet Day, I asked myself, “Where do people hear God?”
One of my favorite passages in the Bible comes from 1 Kings 19 – “But the Lord was not in the wind, the Lord was not in the earthquake, the Lord was not in the fire, and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” God was not, in this instance, in any of the big events, but in the sound of sheer silence.
On any given day, I hear traffic, footsteps, voices, wind, rain, arguments, furnaces, and any number of other things. Most of the time I tune them out and they become so much white noise that I simply ignore as I go about my day. But by tuning out all those noises, by not paying attention to them, by not acknowledging the silence that brings them to the fore, am I also not paying attention to the voice of God? Am I tuning out God as just so much background noise?
This Lent, spend some time in quiet; what you hear just might surprise you.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
February 24, 2016
In his book, A Table in the Desert, the Rev. Paul Jones has a section on Sacraments. The question of what is a sacrament (an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace) and how many sacraments there are (seven in the Episcopal church, if you've forgotten) comes up. For us Episcopalians, we tend to see sacraments as an indelible mark that remains with us for ever.
We see this in baptism, when we are “sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” We become part of the family and that gift of baptism can never be revoked. We can see this in ordinations, where the newly ordained remains ordained for ever (they can be suspended, but that's another conversation). We can see it in marriage as well, where the assumption is that you remain married for ever (again, other complications for another day). We are very Catholic in that understanding.
Fr. Jones points out the difference between Catholics (as well as Anglicans and Orthodox) and Protestants about the issue of sacraments. For Anglicans, Catholics, and Orthodox, the sacraments are indelible marks – outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual graces – that cannot be removed by any act of man because they have been indelibly changed. For Protestants, these sacraments are seen as ordinances, or mandates, that are understood functionally. The only change occurring to the person has to do with a change in their authorized role. If a pastor resigns his post and decides to become a bus driver, he is no longer a pastor. This, I believe, has also led to the unfortunate belief and worry of some people over the possibility of “losing their salvation,” or wondering if they have been saved.
This functionality versus indelibility (yes, I made that up) can be summed up as the difference between what a person brings to the sacrament versus what a person receives from the sacraments. Take baptism, for instance. Many Protestants insist on a “believer's baptism;” that is, a baptism by a person old enough to bring a working knowledge and active choice to become Christian. Anglicans, Catholics, and Orthodox proclaim a baptism in which the person receives the Holy Spirit and is marked for ever.
This is also reflected in the sacrament of Holy Communion. How many times have we heard people say, “I want to take Communion,” or, “I took Communion this Sunday”? That is a very Protestant way of seeing Communion, because it emphasizes what you brought to the table; it proclaims that you believe this event to be important; it is your belief that infuses the bread and wine with meaning.
This is why we do not “take” Communion – we receive Communion. For us, the Holy Eucharist and Holy Communion are part of the divine mysteries, infused with the presence of Christ, by the Holy Spirit. We are participants in a divine action, and nothing we bring to the table causes the bread and wine to become holy; the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ by the divine action of God. When we approach the altar to participate in that holy meal, we receive that holy sacrament; and that outward and visible sign reflects an inward and spiritual grace which we receive into our own bodies.
This Lent, as you work through whatever spiritual discipline you have chosen to follow, don't ask yourself what you are taking from, or getting out of, that discipline – ask instead what you have been receiving from God.
Amen.
We see this in baptism, when we are “sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own for ever.” We become part of the family and that gift of baptism can never be revoked. We can see this in ordinations, where the newly ordained remains ordained for ever (they can be suspended, but that's another conversation). We can see it in marriage as well, where the assumption is that you remain married for ever (again, other complications for another day). We are very Catholic in that understanding.
Fr. Jones points out the difference between Catholics (as well as Anglicans and Orthodox) and Protestants about the issue of sacraments. For Anglicans, Catholics, and Orthodox, the sacraments are indelible marks – outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual graces – that cannot be removed by any act of man because they have been indelibly changed. For Protestants, these sacraments are seen as ordinances, or mandates, that are understood functionally. The only change occurring to the person has to do with a change in their authorized role. If a pastor resigns his post and decides to become a bus driver, he is no longer a pastor. This, I believe, has also led to the unfortunate belief and worry of some people over the possibility of “losing their salvation,” or wondering if they have been saved.
This functionality versus indelibility (yes, I made that up) can be summed up as the difference between what a person brings to the sacrament versus what a person receives from the sacraments. Take baptism, for instance. Many Protestants insist on a “believer's baptism;” that is, a baptism by a person old enough to bring a working knowledge and active choice to become Christian. Anglicans, Catholics, and Orthodox proclaim a baptism in which the person receives the Holy Spirit and is marked for ever.
This is also reflected in the sacrament of Holy Communion. How many times have we heard people say, “I want to take Communion,” or, “I took Communion this Sunday”? That is a very Protestant way of seeing Communion, because it emphasizes what you brought to the table; it proclaims that you believe this event to be important; it is your belief that infuses the bread and wine with meaning.
This is why we do not “take” Communion – we receive Communion. For us, the Holy Eucharist and Holy Communion are part of the divine mysteries, infused with the presence of Christ, by the Holy Spirit. We are participants in a divine action, and nothing we bring to the table causes the bread and wine to become holy; the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ by the divine action of God. When we approach the altar to participate in that holy meal, we receive that holy sacrament; and that outward and visible sign reflects an inward and spiritual grace which we receive into our own bodies.
This Lent, as you work through whatever spiritual discipline you have chosen to follow, don't ask yourself what you are taking from, or getting out of, that discipline – ask instead what you have been receiving from God.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
February 17, 2016
In the service of Morning Prayer, one of two sets of Suffrages follows immediately after the Lord's Prayer. These Suffrages are conveniently and unoriginally labeled as A and B. For most of the year, I utilize Form A for no other reason than it comes first. The second petition within that set has always caught my attention:
Clothe your ministers with righteousness;
Let your people sing with joy.
For those wondering, this particular petition mirrors Psalm 132:9, yet again proving that so much of the Prayer Book is in the Bible. That aside, there are two reasons why this petition has caught my attention over the years.
First is the request to clothe God's ministers with righteousness. We need to remember for whom this petition is concerned. At first glance we might think it has to do with anyone wearing a collar. For those at St. Luke's, that would mean Bishop Michael, Deacon Joani, and myself. But if that's what you think when you read this petition, you are forgetting your Catechism.
The Catechism of the Episcopal Church states, “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.” Everyone in the Church is a minister of the Church. Everyone has a job to do, and only some of them wear collars.
This Lent, as you work to incorporate whatever discipline you chose to take on or give up, may you remember that you are one of God's ministers in this branch of what Presiding Bishop Curry calls “the Jesus movement.” As you make your Lenten journey, may you be clothed in righteousness.
Second is the request to “let your people sing with joy.”
No matter where I have said Morning Prayer, and no matter what group of people are around me during that service, when we get to that line everybody instinctively emphasizes the word sing. It's as if they don't want to simply say that word, but they want to sing it out as we pray the Suffrages. There is always a hint of joy there, and it always causes me to smile just a bit.
We need to remember, especially in Lent, that our worship of God should be a joyful occasion. Lent is certainly the most somber of our seasons, but that does not mean we need to behave, as a comedian once said, like we are sucking on green persimmons. We can be appropriately reverent, but we can also allow our worship to be infused with joy.
This Lent, as we come together to worship God, remember that we are participating with heavenly hosts, with angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, as we worship God in the beauty of holiness. That fact alone should cause us to sing with joy.
You are ministers of God – may you be clothed in righteousness.
You are children of God – may you sing with joy.
Amen.
Clothe your ministers with righteousness;
Let your people sing with joy.
For those wondering, this particular petition mirrors Psalm 132:9, yet again proving that so much of the Prayer Book is in the Bible. That aside, there are two reasons why this petition has caught my attention over the years.
First is the request to clothe God's ministers with righteousness. We need to remember for whom this petition is concerned. At first glance we might think it has to do with anyone wearing a collar. For those at St. Luke's, that would mean Bishop Michael, Deacon Joani, and myself. But if that's what you think when you read this petition, you are forgetting your Catechism.
The Catechism of the Episcopal Church states, “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.” Everyone in the Church is a minister of the Church. Everyone has a job to do, and only some of them wear collars.
This Lent, as you work to incorporate whatever discipline you chose to take on or give up, may you remember that you are one of God's ministers in this branch of what Presiding Bishop Curry calls “the Jesus movement.” As you make your Lenten journey, may you be clothed in righteousness.
Second is the request to “let your people sing with joy.”
No matter where I have said Morning Prayer, and no matter what group of people are around me during that service, when we get to that line everybody instinctively emphasizes the word sing. It's as if they don't want to simply say that word, but they want to sing it out as we pray the Suffrages. There is always a hint of joy there, and it always causes me to smile just a bit.
We need to remember, especially in Lent, that our worship of God should be a joyful occasion. Lent is certainly the most somber of our seasons, but that does not mean we need to behave, as a comedian once said, like we are sucking on green persimmons. We can be appropriately reverent, but we can also allow our worship to be infused with joy.
This Lent, as we come together to worship God, remember that we are participating with heavenly hosts, with angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, as we worship God in the beauty of holiness. That fact alone should cause us to sing with joy.
You are ministers of God – may you be clothed in righteousness.
You are children of God – may you sing with joy.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
February 10, 2016
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit.
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness:
the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives;
our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people;
our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves;
our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work;
our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done:
for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty;
for all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us;
for our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us;
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation;
That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord;
Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Amen.
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit.
We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness:
the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives;
our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people;
our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves;
our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work;
our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done:
for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty;
for all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us;
for our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us;
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation;
That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord;
Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
February 3, 2016
Alleluia!
This is a word of praise for God. It's a word we use to celebrate the greatness, power, and glory of God.
Alleluia. Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
Alleluia! Sing to Jesus! His the scepter, his the throne.
Alleluia, alleluia! Give thanks to the risen Lord.
Alleluia is also used in non-liturgical, non-religious, but still thankful and grateful ways.
Alleluia! I found my car keys.
Alleluia! I got job.
Alleluia! We've been approved for a new house.
Alleluia is a word of thanksgiving. It's a word of praise. It's a word we use to celebrate. It's a word of joy.
But, as you know, not everything in life is joyful, praiseworthy, or celebratory. Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things seem unbearable. Sometimes it seems like we are wandering through a wilderness and wonder if we'll ever come out. Our faith, though, tells us that we will arrive on the other side, and God has promised to be there waiting for us.
Lent begins next Wednesday. The somber season begins with the service of Ash Wednesday, a call to a holy Lent through self-examination and repentance, prayer, fasting, self-denial, and the imposition of ashes. And it removes 'Alleluia' from our vocabulary.
As Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness, we also spend 40 days traveling through Lent. I encourage you to plan now for how you will live into a holy Lent, through picking up a new discipline (may I suggest reading a Daily Office) or through the discipline of self-denial (fasting on Fridays is always an option). This last week of Epiphany is a good time to plan for that discipline so that, come Ash Wednesday, you won't be surprised.
We are in the last week of the Epiphany season. This coming Sunday will be your last opportunity to shout, 'Alleluia!' before Easter. We are getting ready to enter the somber season of Lent. We are preparing to wander through the wilderness. Somewhere along the line, you might reexamine the wisdom of picking up a particular discipline or committing to an act of self-denial.
Don't give up. Don't give in. God will meet you on the other side.
Alleluia!
This is a word of praise for God. It's a word we use to celebrate the greatness, power, and glory of God.
Alleluia. Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
Alleluia! Sing to Jesus! His the scepter, his the throne.
Alleluia, alleluia! Give thanks to the risen Lord.
Alleluia is also used in non-liturgical, non-religious, but still thankful and grateful ways.
Alleluia! I found my car keys.
Alleluia! I got job.
Alleluia! We've been approved for a new house.
Alleluia is a word of thanksgiving. It's a word of praise. It's a word we use to celebrate. It's a word of joy.
But, as you know, not everything in life is joyful, praiseworthy, or celebratory. Sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things seem unbearable. Sometimes it seems like we are wandering through a wilderness and wonder if we'll ever come out. Our faith, though, tells us that we will arrive on the other side, and God has promised to be there waiting for us.
Lent begins next Wednesday. The somber season begins with the service of Ash Wednesday, a call to a holy Lent through self-examination and repentance, prayer, fasting, self-denial, and the imposition of ashes. And it removes 'Alleluia' from our vocabulary.
As Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness, we also spend 40 days traveling through Lent. I encourage you to plan now for how you will live into a holy Lent, through picking up a new discipline (may I suggest reading a Daily Office) or through the discipline of self-denial (fasting on Fridays is always an option). This last week of Epiphany is a good time to plan for that discipline so that, come Ash Wednesday, you won't be surprised.
We are in the last week of the Epiphany season. This coming Sunday will be your last opportunity to shout, 'Alleluia!' before Easter. We are getting ready to enter the somber season of Lent. We are preparing to wander through the wilderness. Somewhere along the line, you might reexamine the wisdom of picking up a particular discipline or committing to an act of self-denial.
Don't give up. Don't give in. God will meet you on the other side.
Alleluia!
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