 By Lay Preacher, Charlie Houghton
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen As Sister Joan Chittister noted in a 2017 interview with Emily McFarland Miller regarding Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, “The God who made us dust knows we're dust. We don't have to feel like perpetual failures because we aren't more than we are, and we don't have to be in contest and contention with everybody around us, because once I know myself and realize I have limitations, then two things happen: I realize my need for you, and I do not expect more from you than I expect from myself. So mercy comes with it, joy comes with it, authenticity comes with it, and freedom comes with it. ”[1] This day is a gateway. As we move into Lent, we begin a journey from nothing – dust – to everything – where God sends us God’s own son to teach us how to live in a way that is pleasing to God. This is the beginning of a time of reflection and action. We are called to reflect on our lives. How is our prayer life? Do we spend meaningful time in prayer and reflection? Do we honor Sabbath to rest and reset? Action requires us to look at both what we are doing and how we are doing it. The Gospel talks about doing good things for the purpose of being noticed while doing those good things. Drawing attention to ourselves while doing good works can actually detract from them. These good works become more about us and less about the people we suggest we are helping. Sometimes it means that because we are not paying attention to what others need, we cannot provide appropriately for them. What we really hope to achieve is quiet faith in action. That is to say, we act in love and not for power. As Matthew notes in tonight’s gospel, “Jesus said, ‘Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them’” (Matthew 6:1). Yet here we are, ready to put a cross made of ashes on our foreheads for anyone to see. How do we reconcile this with the idea of not “practicing our piety before others”? It is thought that ashes are a sign of humility, penitence and mortality. Ashes are often a sign of mourning in Scripture. For example, in the book of Job, Job sat in ashes during his afflictions (Job 2:8-10); and in chapter 3 of Jonah, when Nineveh was called to repent, the people, including even the King, immediately turned to God, acknowledged their sin, and donned sackcloth and ashes in repentance. (Jonah 3:1-10) Ash Wednesday sets the tone for Lent. This is a time of self reflection and prayer. The ashes we wear on our foreheads represent our repentance and acknowledgment of the mistakes we have made over this past year. Yet embedded in this repentance is the knowledge that ours is a forgiving God whose love and mercy save us. The origins of Lent are thought to date back to 325 CE, and the length of Lent is thought to honor Jesus’ time spent in the desert after being baptized and before the start of his ministry.[2] The Rev. Canon Porter Taylor, in an article entitled “Entering Lent with Intentionality” says, “Lent is not a time to earn forgiveness for your sins. It is not a time to begrudgingly give something up temporarily only to greedily pick it back up after Easter. It is not a time for false humility or personal piety. Lent is not only a tradition for the liturgically minded. I believe that Lent is for the priesthood of all believers. I believe that Lent is full of hope.”[3] I agree with Rev. Porter and Sr. Joan that Lent can be filled with hope. After all, at the end of Lent is the glorious season of Easter. But our Lent is only just beginning. And we still need to journey through Lent to the foot of the cross before we can reach the empty tomb. And it seems really relevant that we bring ourselves to the foot of the cross as we see the state the world is in right now. It is difficult to look at the world in hope when there is war in Ukraine and Israel; continuing refusal to meet the challenges of climate change by many political and corporate leaders; unwavering support on the part of many politicians for the NRA’s unwillingness to compromise on even the smallest measures when increasing gun violence often hurts the most vulnerable of our society — our children who should feel and be safe while in school. Many things that are important to us seem out of reach, beyond our abilities to impact them. And that may very well be true. Certainly my own sphere of influence does not include international relations or even the ability to give our planet a fighting chance. But that does not mean that I get a pass. If lent is to be hopeful for me, I have to make the effort to participate in some kind of action that makes a difference. Sr. Joan Chittister has a suggestion for how we might participate in something that seems quite simple, but may be more profound than we realize. In a talk she gave at a conference, she suggests saying this silently to everyone and everything you see for thirty days, but I would suggest you keep it for the people you run across, and say it aloud if you can convince yourself to do so, “I wish you happiness now and whatever will bring happiness to you in the future.” It is a small gesture, but it could be important for both you and the person to whom you say it. And Sr. Joan suggests we see what happens to our own souls. I believe a meaningful Lent lies not in what we are willing to give up, but in what we are willing to contribute. Sometimes what I feel able to do is simply to pray. I found some of this prayer online, and rewrote it with my own thoughts guiding it. It is my prayer for hope when I worry that I have too little. It is something I will pray daily throughout Lent in order to remember that Lent is a time of hope. It is a time when I will try to create within myself a light to shine in the darkness, a light to guide others home. So in this difficult and confusing time, I offer this prayer: Heavenly Father and Mother of us all, in times of darkness and uncertainty, I turn to You for hope. You are the source of all hope and the light that shines in the darkness. Fill my heart with hope and light, Lord, and help me trust in Your plan, even when I cannot see the way. I ask this through our God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen [1] Emily Mcfarlan Miller, The Salt Lake City Tribune, Religion section, April 20, 2017, Interview with Sr. Joan Chittister [2] Jack Dutton, Newsweek, February 22, 2023, “Ash Wednesday: Why Christians Put Ashes on Their Forehead [3] Rev. Canon Porter C. Taylor, News & Stories From The Field, Entering Lent With Intentionality, February 12, 2015 Comments are closed.
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