Every year we mark our faces
with the dryness of ash
in the place where we’ve received
and at least one child will receive at Easter
fragrant oil in the shape of a cross.
Every year we hear Jesus warn
about looking dismal and disfiguring our faces
showing others that we’re fasting.
Every year I get to remind God’s people,
that getting ashes isn’t about recognition.
I won’t be saying,
“Good job, champ”
when you come forward in a few moments.
As we start this last leg on road to the font —
or back to the font —
for ourselves and those discerning baptism
I’ll be reminding that you are God’s creation
and that you will die.
Remember that you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.
As we undertake our own pieties this Lent
whether they be giving, fasting, prayer, or a combination,
we’re starting with the dryness of ashes
and working our way to living waters
that leave us never thirsty.
As we undertake our own pieties this Lent,
they reorient us to God
who the Psalmist tells us
is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger,
and abounding in steadfast love,
and relents from punishing.
Walking the last forty-odd days,
we’re invited to remember that we have sinned,
to remember that we are dust,
and to remember
that God didn’t create us to hate us,
but out of God’s deep love for us.
By the end of Lent
I’m sure you’ll be tired
of lyrics from “Following”
by the group Ordinary Time.
That’s what Lent is, though,
it’s an invitation to follow
an invitation to get back on the path
and reorient our lives to following
Jesus the Christ on his Way.
One of those lyrics is on the banner
out front,
and it’s how all the sermons will be ending.
The last verse of the song, though, says
“What do I have that is not Yours?
Curses and thanks on borrowed breath,
Rowing away with borrowed oars,
Not even alone in lonely death.
A net from the deep is rising beneath me now.”
As Jesus warns against drawing attention to ourselves,
highlighting how good we think we are
by blowing trumpets before we give
or making a big show of praying on street corners
or drawing attention to our fasts,
maybe by announcing them on social media
before we start them
he talks about treasure, too.
Those last few verses
can get lost in the litany
of how not to act
to avoid hypocrisy.
It can seem disjointed
after the “Don’t do this,
do this instead.”
But really Jesus is talking
about the wholeness of following him.
Give in secret.
Pray in secret.
Fast in secret.
All of these admonitions
are invitations
to deepen our relationship with Jesus,
to listen for where he’s leading,
to take time alone
and discern our call.
Jesus unpacks that when he says,
“Do not store up for yourselves
treasures on earth,
where moth and rust consume
and where thieves break in and steal;
but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,
where neither moth nor rust consumes
and where thieves do not break in and steal.
For where your treasure is,
there your heart will be also.”
On the day when the Church reminds us
that life is short,
that all that we have — even our breath itself —
is borrowed
Jesus tells us the same thing.
“For where your treasure is,
there your heart will be also.”
Where do we focus our money?
Where do we focus
our time and talent?
Almsgiving —
directly to people in need
or through the vicar’s discretionary fund
is a traditional part
of lenten disciplines.
If you’re new to following Jesus
or new to following Jesus
at St. Hilda St. Patrick
perhaps a lenten discipline for you
could be discerning a financial commitment
a level of proportional giving,
and pledging toward our life together
before Easter.
Our practices and pieties
are for us to discern in our hearts
and maybe with trusted friends and confidants.
Lent isn’t
an extended meditation on the passion
or how bad we are,
each sin being a strike
against a nail in Jesus.
Lent is a time to pause
and take a deep breath.
The Litany of Penitence
we’ll say together in a few minutes
offers us some ways
to acknowledge our sins —
those things which separate us
from God and our neighbor.
Lent isn’t about
wallowing in our misery.
It’s about realizing
that we all mess up
and need to work to make it right.
That’s it.
Someone who is well known
for his deconstruction journey
talks sometimes about how sin isn’t real,
that it’s just a control mechanism
for the historical powerful of the church.
Every time I hear it I want to say
“Bro you cheated on your wife
and blew up your family!
That’s sin!’
That’s it.
As we may acknowledge and bewail
our manifold sins and wickednesses
which we from time to time
commit against God’s divine majesty
we remember
that God didn’t make us
to hate us.
As we’re reminded of our frailty and mortality
with fine ash
reminding us that to the dust we’ll return
we remember
that death has been defeated,
and we’ll celebrate that again
at Easter.
As we mark our faces
with the dryness of ash
we look forward to the font
and waters that will never leave us thirsty.
As we do all of this
in our congregational context of discernment
and in our political context
Lent invites us
To refocus
on listening to
and following Christ.
Whatever journeys we’re making this Lent,
we don’t walk them alone
but with Jesus.
Whatever work we’re called to do,
it’s not on our own
but through Christ
who strengthens us.
O Holy Christ,
Your burdens are light
But your blessings are heavy
Almost too weighty to bear
There’s a hook in this meal
To receive is to follow
And you won’t always say where
What fool would dare follow you?
Amen.