Ash Wednesday

February 17, 2021

 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6.1-6,16-21

 

 + Occasionally, I get critiques on sermons that I preach.

 And I am not a gracious receiver of such criticisms.

 Especially when they involve unconstructive criticism.

 Well, one of those criticism many years ago, was when a former parishioner here made known, not to me but through eh grapevine, that she was upset that I was preaching about death on Ash Wednesday when her child was the church.

 She felt it was her duty to tell he child about death, and so was upset that so much of my sermon—on ASH WEDNESDAY—was about death.

 I kid you not!

 Well, I hate to break this to you on this Ash Wednesday, but I am going to preach about death.

 And if you don’t like it, I commend you to make it your Lenten discipline to keep your criticisms to yourself.

 Because, that’s what Ash Wednesday is all about!

 And I’m going to be even more blunt about it with this illustration.

 There’s a great meme making the rounds right now.

 I know it’s sobering and all.

 But that’s what Ash Wednesday and Lent are all about.

 Sobering up.

 Getting serious about our faith, our lives and, yes, our deaths.

 If you’re coming to church on Ash Wednesday expecting a warm, fuzzy message you’re in the wrong place.

 There’s some wonderful mega-churches around who can do that for you.

 I’m Joel Osteen is not going to preach about death once during Lent.

 But, here, tonight, Ash Wednesday, is a time for us to think about that ultimate moment in our lives, that puts all of our failures into keen perspective.

 Tonight is the night to think about the fact that we will all, one day, die.

 In this service we are reminded in no uncertain terms that one day each every person in this church this evening will stop breathing and will die.

Our bodies will be made into something that will be disposed of—either by being cremated and being buried in the ground.

But, all of this can—and more importantly, should—be something in which we find ourselves opened up to a new understanding and new perspectives on the world and our relationships with God.

That essentially is what Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent are all about.

It is a time for us to stop, to ponder, to take a look around us and to take a long, hard, serious look at ourselves, our failures, and our relationship with God.

It isn’t easy to do.

It isn’t easy to look at where we’ve failed in our lives and in our relationship with others.

It isn’t easy to look at ourselves as disposable physical beings that can so easily be burned to ashes or buried.

It isn’t easy to imagine there will be a day—possibly sooner than later—when life as we know it right now will end.

It isn’t easy to shake ourselves from our complacent lives.

Because we like complacency.

We like predictability.

We like our comfortable existence.

However, we need to be careful when we head down this path.

As we consider and ponder these things, we should not allow ourselves to become depressed or hopeless.

Remembering our failures is depressing and can trigger depression or despair.

Our mortality is frightening.

Yes, it is sobering and depressing to think that everything we, at this moment, find so normal and comfortable will one day end.

But this season is Lent is also a time of preparation.

It is a preparation for the glory of Easter.

It would be depressing and bleak if, in the end, all we are known for our failures.

But, we are an Easter people, not a Lenten people.

And our ultimate goal is unending Life, not eternal death.

Yes, we will hear, in a few moments, those sobering words,

“You are dust and to dust you shall return.”

And those words are true.

But, the fact is, ashes are not eternal.

Ashes are not the end of our story.

Ashes are temporary.

Resurrection is eternal.

Our life in Christ is eternal.

Our failures are temporary.

Our life is eternal in Christ.

All we do on this Ash Wednesday is acknowledge the fact that we are mortal, that our bodies have limits and because they do, we too are limited.

There is a beautiful poem—one of my all-time favorites-written by probably one of my favorite poets, Robinson Jeffers.

In many ways it has a very healthy attitude to the body and the death of one’s body.

Jeffers wrote this following the death from cancer of his wife, Una, in September of 1950. 

The poem is titled “Cremation”

It nearly cancels my fear of death, my dearest said,
When I think of cremation. To rot in the earth

Is a loathsome end, but to roar up in flame — besides, I am used to it,
I have flamed with love or fury so often in my life,
No wonder my body is tired, no wonder it is dying.
We had a great joy of my body…

“We had great joy of my body.”

Hopefully, we can say the same of our bodies when the time comes for us to put our bodies aside.

So, it’s not a matter of denying our bodies or seeing our bodies as sinful, disgraceful things.

The same can be said of our failures.

Our failures make us who we are.

But, we are not defined by them.

We are however formed in the fires of our failures and shortcomings.

It is not a matter of dwelling on our failures in this life.

Rather, it is a time for us to look forward, past our failures, to resurrection, to renewal, to rebirth.

As we head into this season of Lent, let it truly be a holy time of preparation for resurrection.

Let it be a time in which we recognize the limitations of our own selves—whether they be physical or emotional or spiritual.

But more than anything, let this holy season of Lent be a time of reflection and self-assessment.

Let it be a time of growth—both in our self-awareness and in our awareness of God’s presence in the goodness in our life.

As St. Paul says in our reading from this evening: “Now is the acceptable time.”

“Now is the day of salvation.”

It is the acceptable time.

It is the day of salvation.

Let us take full advantage of it.

Let us pray.

Holy and loving God, hear the prayers of your mortal children, your children who are mere dust, made from dust and who will return to the dust. Hear us when we pray to you in this time of discipline, as we strive to better ourselves for your sake and for the sake of your Kingdom. Be with us as we journey through these 40 days of mortification, and let us set our eyes on the joyful Light which awaits us all after the time of our tribulation in Jesus’ name, we pray.