Ash Wednesday Sermon (2013) The Rev. Jennifer Looker

Transcription

1 Ash Wednesday Sermon (2013) The Rev. Jennifer Looker 1 Tomorrow is Valentine s Day and one could argue that it is the most commercial holiday of the year; one unabashedly devoted to all things indulgent and decadent, because as one advertisement suggests, you deserve it. It might come as welcome relief then, to gather together on this night. In her book Speaking of Sin: The Lost Language of Salvation Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that Christians never need fear the commercialization of Ash Wednesday. Hallmark will never spend much money on research and design, and shopkeepers will not dress their windows in sackcloth and ashes. There is no apparent danger that repentance will ever catch on with the culture, especially since it does not sell that well in the church. I was curious about this, so I decided to check out the Hallmark website to see whether or not they had Ash Wednesday cards available. As it turns out Barbara Brown Taylor was right- Hallmark has yet to capitalize on this opportunity. But I was shocked to discover that many other companies have. Ash Wednesday cards not only exist, they exist in abundance. The savvy consumer can choose from a wide variety of selections. There are cards with beautiful sunsets and flying angels, cards with ashes and crosses, and even cards with grim looking cemeteries, just in case you really want to bring the point home. Prominently featured on each card are catch phrases saying things like Happy Ash Wednesday or A blissful Ash Wednesday to you and your loved ones. Even more astounding, however, was the discovery that not only can you purchase Ash Wednesday greeting cards, but you can also choose from an entire array of Ash Wednesday merchandise, including t-shirts, thermos bottles, baby bibs, post cards, a set of rather attractive tile coasters, and my personal favorite, the Ash Wednesday shot glass. We will not be handing out commemorative t-shirts or shot glasses at the end of this service, but I do hope that you will have something to take away this night: something that is more lasting and real. Because the truth is, there is nothing commercial or easy about the work of Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday calls us to wake up. It confronts us with uncomfortable truths and dispels us of the illusions we fabricate and the lies that we tell ourselves; lies about being in control and having it all together and being right or even being good. Ash Wednesday confronts us with the reflection that we d rather not see, a reflection that renders us sinners: arrogant, self-indulgent, unfaithful, impatient, dishonest, uncharitable, judgmental, blind to the needs of others and the call of God s grace.

2 2 The irony of course is that God already knows all of our sins. The trouble that most of us have is not in admitting our wrongdoing to God, but rather, in admitting our wrongdoing at all. Most of us struggle to even recognize when we have done wrong, much less to repent of it. Moments in which we feel genuine guilt are all too rare, and when they do happen, we have a tendency to rush through them in an attempt to pacify our discomfort. I know this has been true in my life. A few months after the birth of my third child, I was driving home from church one night and I was feeling tired and overwhelmed. I was anxious to get home and as I was thinking about everything that I still had to do, I looked up and happened to notice that the person driving in the car in front of me was shaking her head back and forth in an angry kind of way. There weren t any other cars around, we were both in the left lane, and I suddenly realized that I was tailgating her, and pretty aggressively. I was driving way too close to her vehicle, without even really thinking about it, and for no good reason other than my impatience at wanting to get home. And although I did experience an immediate sense of guilt and shame for what I had done, my principal source of embarrassment was not the fact that I had behaved in an unsafe and inappropriate manner, but rather, that I had been wearing my collar while I was doing it. My sense of shame had more to do with my appearance then it did my character or actions. It wasn't the aggressive driving that I felt really bad about, it was the fact that I was supposed to be representing the church and had been caught doing something bad. This has been true in my life more times than I care to admit. All too often I have valued public displays of goodness more than I have valued goodness itself. I have cared more about what people think than about doing what is right. And perhaps most troubling of all, I have justified my bad behavior by labeling it as something good, even when that small, still voice has quietly challenged me. The prophet Isaiah gives voice to God's anger and disappointment when we behave in these ways: Look, he says, you serve your own interest on your fast day, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. How often is this true? How often are we guilty of twisting our faith into something that is self-serving and idolatrous? How often do we judge and condemn others under the guise of faithfulness and tradition? How often do we point fingers and hurt feelings because we certain that we are right, that we are justified?

3 3 And how often do we over-task ourselves, convinced of our own importance, attending endless meetings and answering endless s all with the self-assurance that ignoring time for Sabbath is somehow ok because we are doing important things, we are doing ministry. How often do we delude ourselves into believing that what we want and need and seek are the same things as God? And how often do we delude ourselves into believing that if others approve, it must be ok. Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. Jesus understands our desire for approval and our need to feel validated and included. But Jesus is also very clear- this is a path with nowhere to go. It's not the desire to be liked or loved or approved of that is bad, it's what we do with that desire, its how we live it. It is God alone who can satisfy our need to be loved. It is God alone who knows us, completely, with all of our faults and wounds and places of deep hurt, and it is God alone who loves and cherishes us anyway. At face value this seems a simple enough thing. God is there for us, yearning for us, just waiting to be had. God knows and loves us, as we are; it s our sin that gets in the way. But let s be honest- most of us are less than clear about what this actually means. We are taught to believe that God is everywhere and that God is good, but we are also taught that sin is pervasive and ever lurking, and that if we don t try hard enough or work hard enough or become good enough we will be separated from the God that is everywhere and good. We are told that faith is a gift that cannot be earned, except when we are told to work at it. God is forgiving and just, willing to die on a cross for every single person, except perhaps for those other people, not chosen, as though we are somehow different or special. Even Ash Wednesday itself is a confusing tangle of mixed messages: we are told that when we fast, we should put oil on our heads and wash our faces, unless of course it is Ash Wednesday, when we adorn our foreheads with ashes for the entire world to see. Our good works should be done in secret that God who sees in secret may reward usunless of course we are letting our light shine, so that others may be empowered to join us in serving God. For the casual observer looking in, little about our faith and this night makes sense. But we are not casual observers, and the ashes we wear this night are not about publicly proclaiming our piety, but rather, a physical and visual reminder of our shame. And whether our good works are done in secret or shared, the point is that they are done for God, for love and with love.

4 4 At its heart, Ash Wednesday calls us to humility. We place earth, hummus, upon our foreheads and we acknowledge our sin. But as the rule of St. Benedict teaches, the first degree of humility is to keep the fear- or the awe and awareness- of God before our eyes. Humility is not about being fixated on one s sin, but rather, being fixated on God. Yes, we acknowledge and repent of our wrongdoing, but the work we do this night is about more than confessing sin- it s about changing our hearts. It s about moving forward, towards God and in God and for God. It s true, faith is a gift. It s also true that God is everywhere, already waiting to be had. We can t earn it, we can t deserve it, the gift of God s love simply is. But this doesn t let us off the hook. There is still important work to be done: the work of waking up. The work of living life fully aware, of taking nothing for granted and reaching towards the one who calls us by name, again and again, as many times as it takes. For some of us the work of reaching towards God will mean giving things up. The bad habits and compulsive behaviors that distract us from God and numb us from all the feelings of loneliness and pain that we work so hard to escape. For others, the work of reaching towards God will mean committing to new spiritual disciplines: adding time for prayer and study, for reflection and Sabbath. But whether you give something up or take something on, the first step is always the same: the willingness to look beyond the self. The desire to confess that we have lived as masters of our own universe, and it doesn t work. The season of Lent is an invitation to authenticity, a time for putting away our masks, our achievements, and the myriad ways that we deceive ourselves. Lent demands that we wake up and take a good look at ourselves; humbly acknowledging ourselves for who and what we really are: broken. Sinners. And yet blessed by God in spite of ourselves. That is why we commit ourselves to a time of intentional prayer and self denial. Not because we want to prove ourselves as better people, or more faithful Christians. But in gratitude for God s grace and love. Lent is not like a New Year s promise, one that is typically centered around the self. Lent is about the grace of God. But this grace is not cheap. It comes with a high and costly price.

5 5 We will gather together this night for holy Eucharist, and when we do so, we will remember the cost of that grace. We will remember that Christ gave his life that we might live. And although we may feel tempted to rush prematurely to the place of forgiveness and love, if we do so, we will miss an opportunity. An opportunity for greater intimacy and authenticity with our God. God knows the nature of our being. It is when we know the nature of our being, the core of who we are, that we can better understand the gift that is God s forgiveness. We aren t asked to prove ourselves during the season of Lent. We are simply asked to wake up. To sit quietly with the truth of our humanity, and to respond with humility and gratitude. To repent of our sins, and to walk bravely through our own places of wilderness, trusting that the One who loves us and calls us by name will be at our side, every step of the way. Amen.