Sermons from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church
Ash Wednesday, 2008
The Rev. Melissa Skelton
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Jesus said, "Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
"So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
"And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
"And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
"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."
You know the scene—a TV reporter is standing with a microphone thrust into the face of bewildered looking couple with their children huddled around them. They’re all in front of what once was a house but is now little more than charred beams, ashes and embers.
The reporter is asking them about the fire: how they discovered it, how they all got out alive and what they will do now. The husband answers--describing how afraid he was when he realized there was a fire in the house, how he awakened his wife, how the two of them gathered up their children and only had enough time to pick up a photo album before running out the door. It was terrible, so terrible, they both say. But then they look at each other and one of them offers that even with their house and all their possessions gone, it’s good to be alive and to realize through this experience what’s really important.
I think about Ash Wednesday in this same kind of way. We’re not, of course, standing in front of houses that have burnt to the ground, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few photos in our hands. But we are choosing to stand before an uncomfortable reality that’s akin to such an experience. The uncomfortable reality is this: regardless of what we own, where we were educated, who we live with or what religion we subscribe to, regardless of all of these, we each have one, fragile, transitory, potentially whole, easily fractured life to live. And because that life is fragile, transitory, potentially whole, and easily fractured, it deserves a kind of bracing care: a time of reflection that both looks hard at where we trip ourselves up and gives a little space to nurture the health that is in us.
We call that time Lent, and it begins today.
No surprise--our readings for today don’t offer a kind of spiritual manual for how to make the best use of Lent, but they do warn us about some of the pitfalls. Both Joel and Matthew tell us not to get sidetracked by how what we do might appear to others. They warn us against doing things that are motivated to impress ourselves or someone else or even to match the conventional wisdom of the day about what a person should do in Lent. Rather, I believe, they call us to give up the behaviors that get in the way of our turning or returning to our wholeness in God or they encourage us to do something that builds our store of heavenly treasure, that strengthens the positive and Godly inclinations of our hearts and minds.
And so this is why many talk about two different kinds of choices we have before us in Lent—consciously to turn away from a habit or a path that has not taken us to a good place or consciously to add something to our lives that creates a little demand system for the good, the positive, the direction that is of God.
Julia Cameron, the author of the The Artist’s Way explores these two dimensions—the turning away from a destructive or fracturing habit, the addition of something that builds our spirit, in her description of the things that the artist in each of us must do in order to gain access to the creative energy of his or her life. At the end of one chapter she gives the following two assignments (which I’ll adapt it a bit for our purposes today on Ash Wednesday)
Assignment 1: which she calls “The Deadlies”: Take a piece of paper and cut it into seven strips. On each strip write one of these seven words: alcohol, drugs, sex, work, money, food, family and friends. These are “the Deadlies.” For seven days, draw one from the envelope and write about five ways in which it has had a negative impact upon your life. If you believe that one you draw does not have a negative impact on you, consider that this might be your own resistance. After doing this, ask yourself the “awful truth” question—what habit or habits do you have that block the way to your having the life of wholeness that God wants for you? Tell the truth—what do you think might be the problem? What is your payoff in holding on to this block? Take a concrete step to disrupt or remove that block.
Assignment 2: which she calls “The Touchstones”: Make a list of things that you love, things that bring you to life, that are touchstones for you: daffodils, reading anything by Joan Chittister, the color red, going to Mass, journaling, walking in the morning, doing a random act of kindness, homemade vegetable soup. Post this list where it can console you or ground you or inspire you. Take concrete steps to have more of what is on this list in your life.
I will always remember the first time I got to see the ashes of someone who had died. They were in a brass canister. I removed the top and peered in, expecting to see something that would look like the ashes left behind in a fireplace after a glorious fire on a winter night. What I saw, of course looked like so much sand. And I remember thinking: “So this is what it comes to after all the meals, the relationships, the jobs, the joys, the accomplishments, the mistakes, the choices—this is what it comes to.” I remember feeling not sad but sober, not worried but full of wonder, nor fearful but somehow free.
One fragile, transitory, potentially whole, potentially fractured life that deserves a kind of bracing care: a time of reflection that both looks hard at where we trip ourselves up and gives a little space to nurture the health that is in us. This is some of the awareness that takes us into Lent and the some of what the Lenten journey is all about.
And so I bid you a Holy Lent. Sober, full of wonder and free: a journey with God and towards God, a journey with yourself and toward yourself.
