March 1, 2009 - Lent 1 (RCL)
Today
is the first Sunday in Lent,
and we have begun that annual time
of penitence and reflection
that prepares us
for the joy and mystery
of Easter.
On Wednesday afternoon
I went to visit one of our parishioners
who was in rehab.
As I walked towards the entry to the rehab facility
I could see through the glass doors
someone who seemed to have dark-colored growth on her forehead,
and that other people in the foyer
looked like they had the same problem,
and for a moment
I wondered if there was some sort of nasty skin condition going round.
And then I opened the door
and realized
that what I had seen
were smudges of black ash,
and of course, it was Ash Wednesday.
It must seem strange
to people who don’t know the tradition of Ash Wednesday
that people would deliberately get ah on them, and then wander around all day
without removing it.
If you have no idea what it’s about, it does look
kind of bizarre.
Though I suspect
that for many of us who think that being ashed is perfectly normal
we’re not so sure of the meaning either. It’s just one of those traditions
of our faith.
“Remember that you are dust
and to dust you shall return,”
are the words
that go with the ash.
Back in Genesis,
when God tells Abraham of his plan
to destroy the city of Sodom
as punishment for its people’s wickedness,
Abraham pleads with God, saying,
“I am but dust and ashes.”
It’s a statement of humility,
of the frailty of human life,
of the very fact that we are created
not creator.
But at the same time
a reminder to God
that we are God’s own creation
and precious
in God’s eyes.
But there’s more.
In the Old Testament,
ashes are uses
as a sign of mourning
at a time of death.
Just as the tradition in our society
is to wear black at a funeral,
back then,
people smeared on ashes.
It was a visible embodiment of grief.
And so when you saw ashes,
you knew that there was a good chance
that someone had died.
The ashes
are a sign of our mortality,
a reminder
that our lives are limited,
that we are not in full control of our destiny,
that one thing is certain for all of us,
that we will
someday
die.
But ashes mean
eve more than that.
Because it wasn’t long
before the use of ashes for mourning death,
extended to another kind of mourning,
the mourning that goes
with knowing that you have done something terribly, irreparably
wrong.
Ashes became
a sign of repentance,
and a sign
not just for other people
but for God.
And so we have taken ashes
and with them, their traditional meanings,
and they have become the sign of the beginning of this season of Lent.
Humility
Mortality.
Repentance.
Those are not words
that we hear too often.
Lent is a time
that really does set us apart.
Humility, mortality and repentance
are not things that we hear talked about a whole lot
on TV or in the news.
And yet they are at the very heart of what it means to be Christian.
Remembering
that we are dependent on God
for life.
Remembering
we are not perfect.
Remembering
that we have failed
and yet
that we can be forgiven.
There’s a realism
about our faith,
a realism
that is particularly acute
in this season of Lent.
And a realism
that I suspect is a gift for us
and that our society
is desperately in need of.
It’s getting to be depressing
to turn on the news
or open the paper.
Madoff here in New York
and Stanford in Texas,
story after story
of financial fraud,
or sometimes not so much fraud
as overreaching,
making decisions based on realities
that aren’t realities at all,
unwise decisions and risk taking and yes, let’s name it, greed.
And at the other end of the financial chain,
lack of information and poor advice and naivety,
all coming together
to create a huge financial mess.
We have discovered, too late,
that growth is not endless
and not all risks are worth taking,
and we can’t all
have it all.
And as I read story after story
about the economic problems we’re in,
it seems to me
that reality
is what we need,
not the overblown rhetoric of the supposed boom years,
nor the scare-mongering
that seems to be taking over now,
the reality
of humility and mortality and repentance.
And it’s that sort of reality
that underpins our psalm today.
To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul;
my God, I put my trust in you;
let me not be humiliated,
nor let my enemies triumph over me.
Let none who look to you be put to shame;
let the treacherous be disappointed in their schemes.
It’s a psalm of confidence,
a prayer
of someone who is struggling
and has chosen
to put their trust in God.
They are praying
that God
will protect them,
will shield them,
will keep them secure.
In the middle of uncertainty
God is, as some of the other psalms attest
a rock, a stronghold,
a place
of safety.
But the psalmist
doesn’t just sit back and expect God to do everything.
Show me your ways, O LORD,
and teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me,
for you are the God of my salvation;
in you have I trusted all the day long.
There are two sides to it.
God, please protect me
and please show me
how to live.
In a world swirling with uncertainty
the uncertainty is not just external
but internal.
Yes, Madoff and Stanford have done wrong,
but what about us? What do we do now?
How do we live wisely?
And so the psalmist asks God for advice.
Looking to the future, show me your ways;
teach me your paths;
let me live
by your wisdom.
But it’s not all about the future.
There’s still the past
to contend with.
Remember, O LORD, your compassion and love,
for they are from everlasting.
Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions;
remember me according to your love
and for the sake of your goodness, O LORD.
Forgive us.
Forgive us
our sins - the stupidity, the greed, the lack of care for others.
Because God is good,
God is gracious,
God will indeed forgive us and guide us,
if only we ask.
Gracious and upright is the LORD;
therefore he teaches sinners in his way.
He guides the humble in doing right
and teaches his way to the lowly.
All the paths of the LORD are love and faithfulness
to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.
And we’re back where we began,
with mortality, humility, repentance.
The focus of Ash Wednesday,
the themes of Lent.
Not so much grovelling
as reality.
And of course, it’s reality
with a promise.
We experience our mortality,
we know our own limitations,
we remember our failures.
Some people think
of Lent as a miserable time,
a time of self-deprivation
and negativity.
But it’s not.
It’s asking the honest questions,
forcing ourselves
to face not illusions
but reality.
Who are we
that Christ should die for us?
Who are we
that we should be forgiven?
Who are we
that we should have
eternal live?
And the answer, the answer of reality, the answer of hope,
a reality that is most important
at a time like this
when our whole society is struggling
with failure and fear.
We are the people of God,
humble, mortal, repentant,
loved, forgiven
and promised
eternal life.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2009