On Writing, Lent, And A Memoir Of Sorts
As I embrace this upcoming Lenten season, I am grateful for the gift of those who have written. In my hands I hold the book “Lent with the Desert Fathers” by Father Thomas McKenzie. Fr. Thomas holds a disproportionate amount of influence on my life in comparison to the small amount of time we shared together. I initially encountered him while on sabbatical 4 years ago when I donned the steps of an Anglican Church for the first time and experienced a shift deep within me through the ministry of this quirky priest – it was nothing he said but something I watched unfold as we worshipped together.
His sermon wasn’t very long. He did a lot of reading. The congregation cycled through periods of standing, sitting, kneeling, responding, and more. We were being orchestrated in a movement of familiar themes but presented differently than my normal rituals. Why was he wearing a robe? What was the significance of the colors and art? I had lots of questions. But what seized my attention, without letting go throughout the entire assembly, was the central focus of Christ’s ministry. I could not articulate this well at that moment, but the Spirit of God was disrupting something within me that I would continue to work out over the next several years.
I continued to show up and ask questions when possible. Fr. Thomas graciously made space for me and unpacked several aspects of the Christian faith that I was unacquainted with. When I asked him what he knew of us Church of Christ people, he generously spoke of the good he knew of our tradition which for him culminated in our sacramental view of baptism (read Christ is active in the event), which I had not connected those dots previously—somehow. That wasn’t language we used very often, if ever. He also challenged me and listened intently to what God was stirring within me. Most notably he unpacked the role of a priest and in doing so, his definition gave words to what I had experienced in that first encounter years beforehand.
Fr. Thomas taught me that the role of a priest is to “de-self and put on Christ.” When he puts on the robes, which attempt to take away his distinguishable features, he is no longer representing himself but is representing Christ in the assembly. The “success” of the assembly is not centered on the priest’s charisma, but it is centered on the present and active ministry of Christ, represented by the priest in the assembly. There was something strangely appealing to me about this dynamic. In my context, as with most churches, there’s a good deal of unspoken pressure on the pastor in front of the congregation. This idea of de-selfing and representing Christ as a part of something much bigger than the creative energy of the leader ministered to me. This obviously is not limited to the priesthood of liturgical churches, but something did happen within me as I watched it take place in a season in which I could receive it. In a world full of branded ministry on social media, influencers, discussions of scale or impact, Christians judging worship gatherings based on personal experience, or how great the sermon was – this de-selfing posture struck a chord with me as one who is not supremely gifted in the buzzworthy aspects of ministry. Thomas unlocked the imagery of the priesthood that I witnessed and could not initially put into words. The priest’s personality takes a backseat to the unfolding drama that is centered on the person of Christ. For in the assembly, Christ brings us into the presence of God, gives us his words, feeds us at his table, and sends us out as his ambassadors.
I had 3-4 meetings total with Thomas and I always left with a book or two. He was beginning to become a new friend and mentor as he was a portal to many aspects of the faith that I was curious about. Tragically, he and one of his daughters suddenly lost their lives in a car accident in August of 2021. I have experienced an extremely odd grief in the passing of time since then. In all actuality, I did not know Thomas very well. He was very open and generous with me during our time together as I watched his ministry from afar, but I was excited at the prospect of learning more from him. Indeed, we had emailed 3 days before his death and set up time on the calendar to meet more regularly when he was back home from his sabbatical. I have grieved who I knew him to be but also how much more of him there was for me to get to know and learn from. What a loss. Even more so for the many who knew him much better than I did.
I am reflecting on Thomas today for two reasons. First, Thomas taught me a lot about Ash Wednesday and Lent before his death. He regularly counseled others to always keep your own mortality before you as this is central to the gospel that we proclaim. Ash Wednesday is a morbid but real reflection that “you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” I will never be able to separate Thomas from Ash Wednesday.
Second, through the gift of Thomas having written, I can still learn from him. This book will guide my reflections through Lent and it is full of brief commentary from Thomas. It is not the conversation I want but it is an opportunity to continue to learn from him. Perhaps, this should encourage us all to write, I know it does me. One day our bodies will fail us and we will return to dust as we await the resurrection. How we spend our days today deeply matters and so do the legacies we leave behind us through our actions and words. When words are written down, they seem to last much longer.