Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Ash Wednesday

I had the great privilege of spending time with the Episcopal Church at Princeton (the chaplaincy at the University) for Ash Wednesday and the following few days. Holy Cross Monastery has a growing relationship with this community and it was a great joy to be among them for the beginning of Lent. We look forward to the visit of that community to the monastery in April.  There are present at the University any number of faithful students, faculty and staff, many of whom shared in the Holy Eucharist for Ash Wednesday. This is my sermon for that liturgy.  


Choosing Between Life and Death

In a few minutes, we are going to engage in a rather old and somewhat odd custom of imposing ashes on your heads while saying the words “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” This action and those words seem to ask us to take heed of this ominous warning and get to work on reforming whatever part or parts of our lives we need to reform. It seems to want to warn us that death is near and that we better listen up and pay lots of attention.
And so given that, I have been wondering about preaching to you a group of mostly young adults who, God willing, are many, many decades away from death and what would it mean to you to hear such a warning. And as I have thought about all of that, it has made me realize that I needed to re-think Ash Wednesday and Lent in general to come to a deeper understanding of what this great liturgical tradition is offering us.
Yes, Lent begins today with a reminder of death. Each one of us will die and that is a fact that cannot be disputed. It is something that is, occasionally, worth thinking about whatever your age is. But this reminder of death is just that, a reminder. It is not a warning or some downer just looking to ruin your day. It is a reminder that death happens.
But it is also a reminder that what follows death is life. Because, you see, Lent ends with a celebration of life. That is the counter intuitive part of Lent. First comes death, then comes life. It goes against everything we are taught about from the time we are young, and yet, there it is. First thing, remember your death. Next thing, now choose to live. Learn what it means to be truly alive in your faith. To live in joy, live in peace, live in faith. Let all those who do not want joy and peace and faith choose death. But we Christians...we choose life. As an aside here, as I use that phrase “choose life” please do not confuse it with the debate around abortion. This sermon has nothing to do with abortion one way or the other.
But that phrase is important. Choose life. It is important because that is what the God who created us, and who conquered death for us, calls us to. No matter our age, no matter our health status, no matter our relationship status, no matter how many papers you have due, God calls us to choose life today, here, in this place, at this time. Yes, it is good to remember that you don't have an eternity here on this earth. And it is good for one reason...to help you to hear the call of life.
And how do we choose life this Lent? This is where today's Scripture readings come in handy. The first reading we heard from the Prophet Joel warns of imminent grave danger coming – a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day when a great and powerful army comes to conquer. But the prophet tells his listeners that it is not to late, that “Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart.”
In other words, it is never to late. Do not worry yourself with rending your garments (an ancient version of giving up sweets). No, rend your hearts. That is quite a graphic image. Rending garments had to do with tearing them and creating big holes in those garments to indicate repentance. But God calls us to much more, God wants us to rend our hearts. To tear open our hearts to become totally available to God.
That, my sisters and brothers, is choosing life. Making ourselves totally available to God to allow God to turn us upside down and inside out. Two weeks ago, yesterday, a very close friend of mine died. Catherine was only 57 years old, a single mother of a 16 year old, an extremely talented psycho-therapist, and a budding spiritual director who was pursuing her Masters of Divinity at Yale. I loved her dearly and really miss her. She died a long, agonizing death from cancer but I know that she is with me here as I preach this sermon to you.
I know she is here because she is the most recent example in my life – and a particularly powerful one at that – of a Christian who knew how to choose life, even under the most dire of circumstances. She had been in the hospital for months and as it became clear that she was not going to be leaving the hospital she continued to say that she was not dying, but rather living, today. Catherine was not in denial. She knew well the various doctor's prognoses. I sat there with her as they told her “just a few more weeks.” She fully understood and said, after the doctors left the room, “then I have weeks to live life the fullest I can.”
And for her that meant spending as much time loving her son Will, talking to me about our friendship and how much that had meant to the both of us, reconciling with her estranged brother, showing great kindness and compassion to nurses, doctors, orderlies and other hospital types, and praying to God in new ways – because the old ways no longer worked, but the new ways did.
So remember that when you receive your ashes. You live not until the day you die. You live until the moment you die. Or at least, you are given that choice. Catherine could have wallowed in her suffering. And it's not that she didn't have her bad days. But she always chose life over death. Love over despair. Service to others over self indulgence.

You see, one the the most grievous theological mistakes that is often made by Christians is that somehow we must earn eternal life. That gift was already given by God, and what God gives, God does not take away. The question then, for us, is whether or not we accept that gift. And, if accepted, what we do with it. Life, for us, is a gift that is given every day, on Ash Wednesday, on Good Friday, on Easter Sunday, and on every other day of the year as well. To choose life is to embrace all that life has to offer and to give back to God, to your community, to the stranger, a heart so perfectly rent that it is open to love in a way that you could not possibly imagine. A heart that is exploding with life. That is what I think it means to remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.
So, my sisters and brothers, as we enter into Lent I want to call each of you, and this community as a whole, to consider what it means to choose life. I would encourage you to not spend much – or any – time on giving up sweets or drinking less beer. These might be great things to do for your health and, if so, do them for that reason. But focusing on those type of Lenten practices is often the modern equivalent of the hypocrisy that Jesus was talking about in the Gospel passage from Matthew.
Instead, what if you were to focus on choosing life this Lent? What would that look like in terms of giving to charity? In terms your prayer life? In terms of fasting? What would it look like for this community to focus on choosing life this Lent? How might that affect your life together as a community? What would it be like to use the example of my friend Catherine for your Lenten practice. That is, not to deny that death will happen one day, one moment – but that every minute God has given you on this earth as beings created in God's image and likeness should be used to embrace life, share love, welcome strangers, care for the poor, and become more fully alive with each and every moment.
Think of what a gift to give back to God that would be this Lent. Remember what the liturgy teaches you: that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return. But remember too, what I am teaching you: you are each beautiful children of God. Choose to live and love each and every day as if you truly believed that. Live to love and love to live. What a beautifully rent heart that would be to offer God this Lent. AMEN.


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