March 5 -- Ash Wednesday

Listen to this sermon HERE.

The rituals of Ash Wednesday bring us face-to-face with and remind us again of two stark realities:  1) We are mortal.  2) And we are sinful.

The imposition of the ashes on our foreheads, which we’ll receive in a few minutes couldn’t spell that out any more plainly: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  

And yet, there is God there.  And while the truth of this day might be blunt, there is a certain grace that comes in being honest.  

Have you ever gotten a secret off your chest.  Shared it with a trusted friend or even brought it completely out in the public?  

We have some dear friends back in the Midwest who are right in the middle of the terrible process of loosing their home.  They do have some housing options for what-next, thanks be to God, but they are definitely losing the beautiful house they’ve been in for over a decade, and a battle they’ve been fighting for at least 5 years.  They were the victims of predatory lending -- the kind of stuff you see on Dateline or 20/20.  It has been a terrifying experience.  They hated to use that word victim or share with others what was going on because they were embarrassed, ashamed, vulnerable.  But they’ve recently brought it all out into the open.  

Maybe you too have hidden or are hiding a secret, and you don’t want to share it because you’re ashamed, or you feel victimized and you’re too proud to say that, or you’re filled with anger and are just trying to keep it buried.  Or maybe it’s a terrible fear we have about being honest, even honest before God.  
I think of the friends I’ve had who are gay or lesbian, but kept their secret in the closet for many, many years -- for lots of good reasons certainly:  it’s still not a safe world for someone who is openly gay. Like people with dark skin, there are still places in our country where your physical safety is threatened if you’re gay or lesbian, bisexual or transgendered.  Not to mention, they could lose jobs or friends or respect.  But what a great and lonely weight to carry -- that secret.  Those are just a few examples as we reflect on secrecy and this theme of honesty before God on Ash Wednesday.   

These two examples -- friends who are victimized by predatory lending and friends who are in the closet -- these are not examples of sinfulness, rather they’re examples of carrying a tremendous weight alone.  And they’re examples of our mortality, and the terror that comes with our livelihood and our identity, our very existence being threatened.  

But there are plenty of examples of sinful secrets too:  ill-intentions we have toward others, the insatiable thirsts for revenge or retaliation, lurking envies, lustful thoughts and actions, addictions that hurt others and hurt ourselves, apathies, willful ignorance to the needs of others, disregard for the planet and future generations.  I was talking to someone the other day about environmental issues, climate change, and he was saying to me that protecting the soil, the skies, our water supplies, forests and animals for the sake of future generations was not his problem or his concern because, “I’ll be dead in a few years,” he said.  He was saying that out in the open, but I wonder if we harbor secrets and thoughts like that in our hearts too.  Willful disregard for the well-being of others.  “Who cares!”  Elie Weisel, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize recipient, says the opposite of love is not hate, it’s apathy.  Not caring.  [pause]
Ash Wednesday.  1) We are mortal.  2) We are sinful.

But when we are honest before God, a burden is lifted.  Ash Wednesday calls us to the fact that we don’t have to pretend before God.  We don’t have to fake it, or say the right thing always, or protect our deepest secrets...before God.  Ash Wednesday is where we start to lay all our mortality and all our sins at feet of Christ.  

And this is a process.  We don’t just gush out all our foibles and faults after a smudging of ashes on the forehead.  It’s a process.  For starters, Lent is 40 days.  The brown, dead-looking branch doesn’t turn green overnight.  But today begins a season of turning, a season of changing.

The Greek word for repent is metanoia, and it means “to turn,” literally, to do a 180 degree turn.  Repent.  Today we begin anew that turn.  From our selfish words to self-giving actions, from being for our rights (and the rights of all our “besties”) to being for the rights of others, from deceitful and apathetic thoughts to loving hearts, from our unhealthy habits to life-giving practices.  The three traditional disciplines of Lent are praying, fasting and alms-giving.  Take those literally...or try breaking them open this season.  See what God has in store for you as you willfully make yourself uncomfortable.  Go to the “desert.”  Get in the dirt.  Make the turn this Lent.  

   

And God will be with you.  As we confess, not only is the burden lifted, but space is cleared, space for the Holy Spirit to enter and work in us.  (Mother Teresa: “God cannot fill what is already full.”)  As we empty ourselves, our hearts, of impurities, God fills us.  We become open for Christ’s teachings and Christ’s healings, open for Christ’s forgiveness, open for change, and open for turning in this 2014 Lenten season.  This is the gift of Lent.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. “[Those words] make clear the meaning of the ritual: because we know that we are creatures who face death, we turn to God, from whom comes life.”  (Keeping Time, 87)

We turn to God, from whom comes life.  Amen.