Ash Wednesday Sermon

A United Methodist minister tells the story of an Ash Wednesday where he just had to be different and heaved a shovelful of palm ash at his horrified congregation.  One parishioner was heard to remark in a whispered gasp, "This is a terrible imposition!"

Humor may not be the first thing that comes to mind when considering Ash Wednesday.  But, the pastor's tale is hardly the only humor-tinged thing related to Ash Wednesday.  I think the people who select the texts that we read week in and week out as well as choose the readings for this day have a delightful sense of humor.  Who else selects a text that warns, "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," and then pair this text with the very public imposition of ashes on peoples' foreheads.  It's pretty hard to confuse those who attend Ash Wednesday services and those who do not!  (Needless to say, those of you attending the evening service have the cover of night to help you out from being too public in your piety!)

Unfortunately, Ash Wednesday has morphed into a day of doom and gloom among some people.  "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return," has become the refrain of what many consider a macabre and morose liturgy.  Indeed, some have called Ash Wednesday the most uncomfortable day of the church year, and this makes sense.  Right?  How often do we consciously and actively reflect upon our mortality? For a parent holding a tiny child and hearing the truth spoken as ashes are traced upon her brow, reality, for the moment, becomes quite sober.  For the newly weds or the couple married 10, 20, 30, 40, or 50 years, these words are a stark reminder of the finality of life and the eventual end to the gift standing next to you.  To those already acutely aware of the frailty of the body-carrying cancer or another disease-the words echo what is an all too familiar reality. 

However, it is clear that Ash Wednesday is not meant to be gloomy or gruesome.  It is a healthy reminder to us-in the midst of this crazed and chaotic world-of life, the gift that is life, and the presence of God in the midst of it all and beyond.  T. S. Eliot wisely quips:

What we call the beginning is often the end   

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

     The end is where we start.

 

And so this is what we do today, make our start to this Lenten season and a start to a desire to be more fully aware of God's presence in life and more fully engaged in God's call to us to live in life by remembering our end.

Or as one ancient tale relates regarding a disciple speaking to the Holy One:

The disciple asks:  Where shall I look for Enlightenment?  "Here," the Holy One said

"When will it happen?"

"It is happening right now," the Holy One said.   

"Then why don't I experience it?""Because you do not look," the Holy One said.

"What should I look for?

"Nothing," the Holy One said,  

"Just look. '

"At what?"

    "Anything your eyes alight upon," the Holy One said.

"Must I look in a special kind of way?"

     "No," the Holy One said.  "The ordinary way will do." 

"But don't I always look the ordinary way?"

   "No," the Holy One said.  "You don't."

  "Why ever not?" the disciple demanded.

   "Because to look you must be here," the Holy One said.   

"You're mostly somewhere else."

As a good friend once said, "I resemble that remark!"  And how many of us are mostly somewhere else?  Bombarded by all the responsibilities, messages, engagements, outings, tasks, and  demands upon our time and energies, it is so very easy to be somewhere else.  The power of Ash Wednesday, in part, is to jerk us back to "here" by shocking us with the reality of our being, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."  And "here" is not a hyper focus on our mortality so much as it is an awareness and living into the fuller presence of God and God's love for you made known to us in each moment and beyond this mortal coil. 

Indeed, Paul glimpsed a bit of this truth in his letter to the community in Corinth when he wrote, "For God says, 'At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.'  See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!"  God invites us into the unfolding of God's mercy and grace, not something awaiting us at some undisclosed location and end of time, but here and now.  God invites us into the fullness of life that Jesus embodies-loving fully and giving wholly and unreservedly-so that we too might experience a bit of that fullness here and now.  God reminds us of our frailty not to Lord it over us but so that we might awaken to the mystery and the wonder of the moment we have been given here  and now.  Far from a terrible imposition, the ashes on your forehead mark the generous imposition of God's grace and mercy for you here  and now  and forever!