On the evening of February 5^th 2020 the cruise liner “Diamond Princess” dropped anchor outside the port of Yokohama in Japan. There were 3,700 passengers and crew aboard the ship but no-one was allowed to leave. That was because of one elderly Chinese passenger: he had joined the cruise on January 25^th and left at Hong Kong with a cough. Now news came back that the gentleman had tested positive for the Covid-Sars-19 virus. The Japanese authorities were worried and, following World Health Organisation protocols, placed the ship under quarantine for 14 days. But in the intervening period the ship had docked in a number of places and the usual onboard social life had continued without restrictions.

As time went on, more and more people tested positive for Covid: a total of 61, then 65 the next day, then 135 … the numbers continued to soar and, by February 18^th, had risen to 542. The ship’s medical facilities were completely overwhelmed and the Japanese authorities decided that the most seriously ill patients would be evacuated to the mainland. The United States Government chartered two aircraft to take many of its nationals home and, by March 1^st, the ship was empty. But 712 people (nearly 20% of the “Diamond Princess’s” complement) had been infected; 14 of them – all older passengers – died. Later, the  medical community heavily criticised the virus testing regime and the measures taken to prevent the virus spreading, that was perhaps unfair as it’s easy to be wise after the event. One American expert went so far as to call the “Diamond Princess” a “quarantine disaster”.

On July 27^th 1377, the Great Council of the Republic of Ragusa, located in what today is the city of Dubrovnik, were so concerned about the spread of deadly plague during the Black Death that they made a decree: “Neither people nor goods coming from infected areas will be admitted to the city or surrounding land until they have spent a month in the nearby town of Cavtat or the island of Mrkan for the purpose of disinfection”. The Ragusan Republic imposed strict fines, or punishments such as cutting off offenders’ noses or ears, on offenders who broke the law which was known as “trentine” after the 30 days of isolation. Although isolation had been practiced before, notably in Venice, this was the first time it had become law.

Twenty years later the isolation was period extended to 40 days (you can work out where I’m going here), giving us the term “quarantine”. Conditions in the camps were, as you can guess, appalling, with many deaths. But the city was saved and, many years later, it built the “Lazarettos”, a sort of Hospice just beyond the city wall where visitors — mostly from the Ottoman Empire — would wait out their 40 days. Today they are a historical tourist attraction.

No-one quite knows why the 30-day isolation period was lengthened to 40 days. It may have been for pragmatic medical reasons, with a longer isolation period giving greater protection. It’s certain that the significance of the forty-day period was well-established by Middle Ages, long before the idea of quarantine for disease control had been mooted. Some societies had legal customs which stipulated a forty-day period within which a certain thing had to be done: for instance, an English law, sometimes called the “widow’s quarantine” and apparently included in Magna Carta, decreed that a woman whose husband had just died had the right to continue living, unmolested, in his house for forty days while her share of the estate was decided.

But the 40-day period may also have been inspired by the various times that it’s mentioned in the Bible. We have the days and nights of rain that flooded the Earth in the story of Noah, the length of Moses’ stay on Mount Sinai, the duration of Goliath’s derisive challenge to the Israelites, Elijah’s fearful flight to Mount Horeb, the timespan of Jesus’ resurrection appearances and the length of Jesus’ fast in the wilderness – which of course is now irrevocably linked to the season of Lent – I’m never quite sure why as Lent leads us to Easter, the climactic event at the end of Jesus’ ministry, while his stay in the desert takes us back three years to before its beginning.

The origins of Lent itself are somewhat obscure. We know that the word itself comes from the old English one “lencten” which refers to the Spring season and its lengthening of days. If you go to the old Anglican Prayer Book you will find the Latin names of the Sundays leading up to Easter, which intrigued me as a child: “Quadragesima” (which is today) simply means “forty days”. Several documents from the fourth and fifth century have references to a shorter, three-week, period of spiritual preparation before baptism, usually carried out at Easter; this in itself probably reflects as earlier Jewish practice of preparation for Passover. The problem of course with all these suggestions is that three weeks do not equate to forty days!

There are also hints that the Christians in Alexandria observed a forty-day fast, however it’s difficult to pin down exactly when this took place. Was it a fast after Epiphany which imitated Christ’s own fast in the wilderness? Was it a fast in anticipation of Easter and, possibly, baptism? It’s been suggested that the crucial event in determining Lent was the famous Council of Nicaea which took place in 325 AD, after which liturgical practices in the Church became more uniform. Nevertheless a Catholic scholar has recently written, “The early history of Lent is … something of a ‘choose your own adventure’”. In other words the origins of Lent are both complex and simple: as with so many traditions, it’s all a bit of a mystery.

So much for history – I hope you’ve found it interesting. The question we need to ask now is, “What does Lent mean today?” I’m sure that it’s not just about giving up chocolate; nevertheless we can still follow Jesus’ example and put ourselves under the discipline of a fast. Now that fast – and, I’ll be honest, this is nothing I’ve ever really done myself – need not necessarily involve giving up food (although keeping off the cream cakes and doughnuts might do us all a power of good!) No; it’s been said that Lent can be a time when we suspend some of our normal interactions with the world.

Obviously folk with jobs must keep going to work – but perhaps we ought to temporarily detach ourselves from some of our leisure pursuits, whether that be going to football matches or simply watching television. If we try to do that – and, as I say, I never have – we might discover just how much we are addicted to them, how much they in fact control our lives. This isn’t a permanent state of affairs (indeed, we might even enjoy the activities all the more after a break); but, as one writer has put it, “Fasting introduces a distance between ourselves and the world – the very distance that allows us to look and reflect upon the world and our worldly existence”. We have forty days to pull back and think.

Perhaps, too, we can go back to the stories of Moses and Elijah who both met God on (or in!) a mountain after a period of 40 days. That’s because Lent leads to Easter; although most of us don’t go mountain-climbing on Easter morning (although I can think of two people who climbed Pen-y-Fan and got back down in time for church), we may well come to worship on Easter Day expecting a special encounter with God and go home disappointed if our hearts and souls haven’t been lifted high in praise. There was special joy in the air when we celebrated Easter two years ago, after being locked down by Covid the year before: I remember the stewards anxiously wondering how they could shoehorn everyone into the church while maintaining the required social distancing. Although we’d been meeting, on and off, for several months and still weren’t allowed to sing (but our humming was pretty impressive!), there was a real feeling that we were starting to come out of the pandemic’s quarantine, that winter darkness was giving way to spring sunshine and – of course – that God was alive among us. We’d had far more than forty days of gloom.

So what will we do with ourselves during the next six weeks? I’m not suggesting that we go out to a desert place – Jesus didn’t do that by choice but was, we are told, “driven” by the Holy Spirit. His stay there was a final time of preparation before he was plunged into the hurly-burly of ministry, a period of “toughening-up” to help him face its challenges, seductions, and hostility from the folk who he might have expected to support him. We’re simply not in that kind of situation unless we’re about to start a new job or Christian ministry – I don’t think any of us are. But we all face troubles, trials and temptations; we all get seduced by things which are unhealthy or unhelpful; we all become lazy and complacent, unwilling to question our attitudes or habits; we can all say to God, “Search me and see if there is anything me which needs to change”. Perhaps that’s the best way to use Lent – a way which will hopefully lead to a glorious and liberating Easter.