Ash Wednesday dawned bright and clear in Seattle. It was the day of the earthquake, a rattling, shaking experience, which almost made us forget what had happened the night before. Wednesday morning, however, was anything but bright over Pioneer Square. Those who watched the morning news saw incredibly ugly scenes from Mardi Gras madness. Seventy people injured, including one 13-year-old, one dead. Three hundred plus police officers were required to face the mob of 4000. There were windows broken, cars overturned, fist-fights, assaults, and even a few gun shots. And this was after a few days of warm-up unruliness for Fat Tuesday.

I felt like lamenting: "Why, Lord, must people defile this season set aside to remember your death and resurrection with drunken violence on the night before it begins?" "How long, O Lord, will people whom You created in your image claim the right to act in a stupid, destructive manner?" Later that day, we might have added: "And why, O Lord, on the heels of Mardi Gras madness, does the earth have to shake, causing $2 billion damage in our area?"

The season of Lent speaks to us of things our culture tends to resist. Lent is about penitence. Our culture exalts partying. Lent is about remembering Jesus going to the cross. Our culture wants to see how far it can go and still get away with it. Lent is about self-discipline. Our culture glorifies self-indulgence. Lent is about death leading to life. Our culture is filled with pseudo-life leading to death.

Someone described Lent as that period of time when people deny themselves things they don't want. Maybe it's like the child who saw his grandfather drinking beer during Lent. "Grandpa, I thought you gave up liquor for Lent." "No, sonny, just hard liquor," said grandpa. "Ok, then," said the boy, "I'll just give up hard candy."

Giving up things for Lent may be very good and helpful. But I wonder if we ought not add something for Lent. And, if we do give up something, maybe it should be in order to add something.

Lent speaks to us of things we need in our lives, not just during these six weeks leading up to Holy Week, but all year long. Lent speaks to us of skills we need to learn. And if we don't need these skills now, there will come a time. One of the things Lent can teach us to practice all year long is how to lament.

Someone may be thinking: Pastor, why would we want to do that? We came to church to praise God and to be happy. But sometimes some people come to worship with a deep need to lament. Biblical lament is a kind of prayer. The Bible illustrates prayers of praise and thanksgiving. These are summer-like prayers, bright in tone and feeling. "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord ..." is the epitome of that prayer. We pray these prayers at Christmas, at Easter, at Pentecost. And some of us may have the idea that they are really the only kinds of prayer appropriate for congregational worship.

But there are also winter-like prayers. "Out of the depths have I cried to you, O Lord." On the cross, Jesus was probably reciting one of the great psalms of lament, Psalm 22. There, the ancient poet-king cries out: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning? These are winter prayers. These prayers of lament are what we learn to pray during Lent.