The sabbath is over – it is early in the morning, and the sun has just peeked over the horizon. Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome carry bundles of fragrant spices to the tomb to anoint the body of their friend and teacher, Jesus. His death was horrific, unspeakable, final. And now these women have to figure out how to go on without him, without the hope and love that he brought into their lives.

There are, in scripture, plentiful images of the Kingdom of God. Throughout Hebrew Scripture and the New Testament the writers of our sacred texts cast visions of what the world might be like when the world is, as Presiding Bishop Michael Curry likes to say, turned from our nightmare into God’s dream.

The story of Nicodemus is not part of our Gospel reading this morning but it does set the stage for us as it introduces us to some of the significant distinctions between this Gospel and the Synoptics, Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Nicodemus came to Jesus by night. He asks him about signs. Jesus speaks of being born of water and Spirit and speaks of himself as the Son of Man. Contrasts, language, those whom we meet and the stories they tell, who Jesus is and what he explains and requires all set this Gospel apart.

Today we commemorate the life, witness and ministry of Barbara Clementine Harris. This coming Saturday, March 13th will mark the one year anniversary of her death, at the age of eighty-nine.

Barbara Harris was the first woman, and first black woman, ordained a bishop anywhere in the worldwide anglican communion. She was elected in the fall of 1988 by the Diocese of Massachusetts and consecrated the following February at Hynes Convention Center in front of eight thousand people. Perhaps you were one among them.

The camp our young people attend and where we hold our fall Parish Retreats bears her name. The portrait on the cover of this morning’s worship bulletin hangs in th

What does it look like to forfeit one’s soul? What does it feel like? How would we know if it were happening?

Jesus said, “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?” The Greek word that is translated “life” in this passage is the word we know as “psyche” – it can also mean “soul,” or “self.” As he teaches his disciples, Jesus seems to be describing the possibility of losing something deeper than physical existence. He is suggesting that there are choices we make in our lives that, while they might preserve our earthly existence, might do much greater damage to our very selves.

I’ve had people tell me they stop going to church during Lent, because life feels full of Lent already. As Elise commented in her sermon on Ash Wednesday, people are asking whether we should skip Lent this year given the year we have been through, and are continuing to go through.

I think skipping church during Lent, or keeping church but skipping Lent makes a lot of sense if your idea of Lent is that of a forty-day focus on pain and suffering. It makes sense if your practice during Lent is to try to figure out ways to make your life harder, to invite suffering into your life in ways it hadn’t previously existed. If that’s your idea of Lent, by all means, take a hard pass.