Ash Wednesday 2017 - What About the Ashes?

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .  In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.”

“Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”

Our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers will hear this today/tonight when they receive ashes, “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.”

What do the ashes placed on our foreheads today/tonight really represent?

They represent sorrow:

         In the Hebrew Scriptures we see Tamar after her rape sprinkling ashes on her head (2 Samuel 13).  We see Mordecai, Esther’s uncle, putting on sackcloth and ashes as he cried out against the order of King Ahasuerus that all the Jews in his kingdom be killed. (Book of Esther 4)

They represent a plea to God:

         The prophet Daniel when faced with a royal order that would make him deny the practice of his faith said, “I turned to the Lord God, pleading in earnest prayer, with fasting, sackcloth and ashes.” (Daniel 9)

They represent repentance:

         Job came to realize that his righteous life was not the complete answer to God that he initially believed. God’s answer to Job told about the power of God in the universe and overwhelmed Job.  Job responded, “I had hear of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes sees you / therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42)

         The prophet Jeremiah called for the people to repent of their rejection of walking in “the good way” of life God prescribed, by saying, “O my poor people, put on sackcloth, roll in ashes,” (Jer. 6)

So today/tonight in accepting the ashes on our foreheads, we acknowledge our sorrow, we cry out for God’s saving help, and we promise to repent, turning away from our rejection of God’s teaching and turning to following Jesus’ words:  Love your God, with all your heart, your mind and your strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.

When at the time of the Reformation, including the English Reformation, the practice of receiving ashes was dropped.  Although the practice had long roots—by the end of the 10^th century the custom of receiving ashes as a liturgical practice was clearly documented—it appears that the reformers felt the emphasis should be on the “utter depravity of human nature.”

Here is what the priest was instructed to say to the people in the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549 and again in 1559: “To the intent that you, being admonished of the great indignation of God against sinners, may the rather be called to earnest and true repentance, and may walk more warely in these dangerous days, fleeing from such vices, for the which ye affirm with your own mouths, the curse of God to be due.” 

And he says further “Now seeing that all they be accursed (as the Prophet David beareth witness) which do err and go astray from the commandments of God, let us (remembering the dreadful judgment hanging over our heads, and being always at hand) return unto our Lord God, with all contrition and meekness of heart, bewailing and lamenting our sinful life, acknowledging and confessing our offenses, and seeking to bring forth worthy fruits of penance. For now is the axe put unto the root of the trees, so that every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit, is hewn down and cast into the fire. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God; he shall pour down rain upon the sinners, snares, fire, and brimstone, storm and tempest; this shall be their portion to drink.”  Are you appropriately afraid now?

In a few moments we, too, will acknowledge in the Litany of Penitence, our sin and—in great detail—our falling short of God’s commandments.  Yet there is a major difference between what we say and do today/tonight in our worship and the context of the confession of sin and repentance in the liturgy of the Reformation prayer books.  That difference is this: our Litany of Penitence takes place within the context of a Eucharist rather than in the context of a Morning Prayer service with the Litany.

A Eucharist celebration calls into our hearts and minds the power of God’s love in God’s incarnation as Jesus of Nazareth.  We acknowledge the Real Presence of Christ in our midst.  We are taking Christ into ourselves as we receive the blessed bread and wine.  We do this not only today/tonight, but every week!  In doing so we give thanks for the power of God’s love in our lives.

Yes, in so many ways we do fall short of the person who God yearns for us to be. But God’s promise of forgiveness and grace covers our sinfulness. We must simply reach out to receive the promise!

The theologian, Walter Brueggemann, beautifully describes our reaching out to God in his poem, “Marked by Ashes.” Today/Tonight I’ll close with an excerpt from that poem that uses “Easter” as a verb to describe God’s action as we reach out for God’s grace:

“but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes—

 we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:

 of failed hope and broken promises,

 of forgotten children and frightened women,

 we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;

 we can taste our morality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.

We are able to ponder our ashness

with some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky, taste of death.

On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you—

    you Easter parade of newness.

 Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,

 Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;

 Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.

 Come here and Easter our Wednesday with

 mercy and justice and peace and generosity.

We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.”

Let us pray: This day/night, O God, we come to you in sorrow at the sinfulness and pain in our world and in our own lives. We turn to you, O God. Restore us and restore our world to be fit for your reign of justice and peace. Let our confession and our receiving of Christ in the bread and wine, renew us to serve and peaceably fight for what is right and just.  May your reign come, your will be done in us and in our world. Amen.

The 6th Sunday after Epiphany: Is the Law a Gift?

Homily based on these readings:  Deuteronomy 30: 15-20 & Matthew 5: 21-37

In the musical “My Fair Lady” the protagonist, Eliza Doolittle, becomes frustrated with the strict regimen her tutor Henry Higgins has developed for her to learn to speak proper English. She sings, “Words, words, words/I’m so sick of words. . .” As we consider the readings this morning, might we think, “Rules, rules, rules/I’m so sick of rules. . .” Particularly rules that seem so impossible: “But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment (which in this passage from Matthew is not a good thing!).”

In preparing for preaching today I found a story told by David Lose, a Lutheran pastor—a story that anyone with a brother or sister can relate to, I think:

“ My friend, Frank, was about eight years old at the time, when he started arguing with his sister. Before long, arguing turned to pushing and shoving, and, soon enough, Frank had his younger sister pinned to the ground with his fist raised in the air. At that moment, his mother came into the room and told him to stop it. In response, Frank – as he described – reared up as only an eight-year-old can and declared, fist still raised in the air, ‘She’s my sister. I can do anything I want to her.’ At this point, Frank’s mom swooped across the room, towered over him, and said, ‘She’s my daughter – no you can’t!’”

If you are a child or young person, have you ever wanted to make up your own rules for your family—for your school? If you are an adult, have you ever wanted to make the rules for the place where you work?  If you are in charge, you do get to make the rules.  This was made quite clear to my grandson when he was about 4 years old, and I was taking care of him. Both his parents were out, and I had asked him to do something.  His reply, “You’re not the boss of me.”  I said back to him, “Your mom and your dad are not here, but I am—so that makes me the boss.”  After he tried it one more time and got the same answer, he finally relented.

Were we (Frank’s mother and I) asserting our power in the situation just because we could?  Or did we have reasons for what we did?  What about Moses?  Was he telling the Israelites about what God expected them to do or not do, because he wanted to assert God’s strength and superiority?  How about Jesus?  Was he trying to scare people about the consequences God would give them if they were angry at, insulting, or swearing at one of their fellow Jews?  What about looking at a person and or touching a person and thinking about how you might treat them as an object for your pleasure rather that a person worthy of respect? What about swearing an oath and really intending it to cover a lie?

Jesus “intensifies” the some of the laws of the Ten Commandments in this passage from Matthew. By doing this he confronts modern people—a perhaps people in his time as well—with words we would prefer not to hear.  Advice to mutilate your body to avoid sin sounds outrageous and, frankly, bizarre.  What can we make of his words?

First, we should agree that he is using “hyperbole” –stating a rule and its consequences in such a way to point to something beneath the rule.  He challenges us with these outrageous statements to look at our intentions—our heart, if you will.  He wants us to look at what the laws can truly mean for us and for those with whom we live and work.

In his commentary on this passage from Matthew, Pastor David Lose gives three reasons why we should love the law and do our best to follow it.  First he describes the law—especially as we see it in the Ten Commandments—as a gift from God.  Rules in our families and in our communities can be gifts as well—even when it doesn’t feel that way some days. 

As we read or listen to the news in this moment in our nation’s life, we are reminded about what we learned in civics class in school. (Mine, by the way, was called, “Problems of American Democracy” which now seems remarkably prescient.) We are a nation who values the “rule of law.”  Our Constitution enshrines this in terms of something called “separation of powers.” We expect judges to decide whether or not some law the Congress has passed--or some order the President has given--abides by the “rule of law.” These days we certainly need to ask ourselves is our system with its rule of law and separation of powers a gift?

To return to Pastor Lose’s point, the law as “gift” has two purposes: first, to strengthen the community and, second, to orient us to the needs of our neighbor. The law uses the boundaries it sets up to remind us of our responsibilities in caring for those around us.  One purpose of the law is to protect those without power.  This orientation to the needs of others will help both ourselves and others live in a family or community or society which fosters human flourishing—nurture, health, safety and, as Jesus taught his followers, abundant life. In the parable of the Good Samaritan Jesus reminds us that the definition of our neighbor may be much broader than we think it is.  The law reminds us that is not just “all about me” or even about all of us in this small group—indeed, it is truly “all about us.”  With “us” meaning “everyone, no exceptions!”

I want to close by referring you to what our Book of Common Prayer says the Ten Commandment mean in terms of human flourishing [BCP p. 848].  I will read the questions and together we will read the answers:

“Q.	What is our duty to our neighbors?
A.	Our duty to our neighbors is to love them as ourselves, and to do to other people as we wish them to do to us;
	V	To love, honor, and help our parents and family; to honor those in authority, and to meet their just demands;
	VI	To show respect for the life God has given us; to work and pray for peace; to bear no malice, prejudice, or hatred in our hearts; and to be kind to all the creatures of God;
	VII	To use our bodily desires as God intended;
	VIII	To be honest and fair in our dealings; to seek justice, freedom, and the necessities of life for all people; and to use our talents and possessions as ones who must answer for them to God;
	IX	To speak the truth, and not to mislead others by our silence;
	X	To resist temptations to envy, greed, and jealousy; to rejoice in other people's gifts and graces; and to do our duty for the love of God, who has called us into fellowship with him.
Q.	What is the purpose of the Ten Commandments?
A.	The Ten Commandments were given to define our relationship with God and our neighbors.
Q.	Since we do not fully obey them, are they useful at all?
A.	Since we do not fully obey them, we see more clearly our sin and our need for redemption.”

So can the gift of the law strengthen our families, our community and our society and orient us to the needs of our neighbor?  This week please think about this, “Is the law a gift?”

The 7th Sunday after Pentecost: Already--Not Yet

This homily was based on Galatians 6: 7-16 and Luke 10: 1-11, 16-20.

On this holiday weekend we celebrate the beginning of the creation of our form of government. We broke away from a colonial system and tried something new. Enlightened men with property thought they could make better decisions about how to govern themselves than a distant monarch and a parliament in which they had no voice. We have broadened the franchise over these past 240 years to make this country one which allows a diversity of voices to govern.  Yet it becomes clear, as we listen to the political rhetoric of this election season, that we have a ways to go yet in creating a “more perfect union” to secure “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” for all people in our country.

As we hear the readings today from Paul’s letter to the Galatians and Luke’s gospel, we might well ask what could they possibly say to us in our world today. Do we think much about circumcision or lack of it? How about corrupted flesh? Does being able to tread on snakes and scorpions sound like something we’d be interested in? Do we understand salvation as our names being written in heaven?

To find out what we need to gain from our scripture readings today in 21^st century America, I believe we need to go in more deeply--past the issues and imagery of 1^st century Palestine and the early church.

Both Paul and Luke view the good news of Jesus Christ as inclusive and expansive. When Paul spoke about “a new creation,” I believe he saw the Jesus movement as making irrelevant previous religious differences that kept people apart. If these differences no longer matter since Jesus has come among us, we can be reconciled with one another. We no longer need to see ourselves as superior to any other person. We can be reconciled to who we really are—beloved by God. Then in this reconciled state we can be open to seeing God’s work in our lives and in the world.

But you might say, how real can this reconciliation when there seem to be people who continue to point out others as different and bad. For example, the Southern Poverty Law Center recently collected 5,000 comments from educators as part of their Teaching Tolerance project. Two-thirds of the teachers report that students who are immigrants, children of immigrants, and Muslim, have expressed fears or concerns about what may happen to them or their families after the election in November. The rhetoric of hate in our political campaign has caused these children to suffer.

There’s an expression to describe the presence, yet absence, of this new creation: “already, not yet.” By his life, death and resurrection and through his teaching, Jesus established that new creation some call the reign or kingdom of God. That’s the “already.” But in Luke’s gospel we see Jesus prepared the seventy followers he sent out to expect rejection when they sought to proclaim God’s reign of peace and healing.  That’s the “not yet” part. In the end as followers of Jesus we believe that God’s love will win and God’s peace with justice will triumph in the fully realized “new creation”—just not yet.

Our country is a bit like that as well. At the very beginning our founders held out the ideal of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” protected by citizens participating in a representative form of government. But the reality of our political process and the lives of many of us stray far from the ideal. Nevertheless, we do not give up hope. As Martin Luther King said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  As Episcopalians we pledge to participate in that “bending.” When we renew our baptismal vows, we promise to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

As we look more deeply into how Luke set the story of the mission of the seventy, we again see inclusiveness and expansiveness. Luke puts this story in the midst of a travel narrative when Jesus is traveling through Samaria toward Jerusalem. He sent the seventy in pairs to all the towns where he planned to go. He didn’t only send them to a few friendly places, but he sent them to many places, even where they might encounter opposition. They were to take the message of God’s peace everywhere they traveled. When they found a place that welcomed their message and the healing they performed, they were not to try to improve their accommodations, but to accept what they were offered. Their trust in God and their humble approach to their mission enabled them to reveal the in-breaking of God’s reign.

As we celebrate our country’s founding this weekend, let us remember that the ideals expressed by the Declaration of Independence continue to be a work in progress. Our commitment as citizens to those ideals and our commitment as Christians to work toward God’s reign of peace with justice may well overlap. In both commitments we should live and act with a humility that comes from trusting that God’s reign of peace with justice will indeed result in all creation—including sinful humanity—being reconciled and thus becoming “new.”

The 6th Sunday of Easter - Discipleship as Co-participation?

“Will you come and follow me/If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know/And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown?/Will you let my name be known,
Will you let my life be grown/In you and you in me?”

         The words of this song written by John Bell for the Iona community in Scotland call us into Christian discipleship.  They describe the sort of call Jesus made to his very first disciples.  They inquire about a willingness to prepare for the tasking of “giving away” our faith—something we are called to do as disciples.

The song continues:

“Will you leave yourself behind/If I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind/And never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare/Should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer pray’r/In you and you in me?

“Will you let the blinded see/If I but call your name?
Will you set the pris’ners free/And never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean,/And do such as this unseen,
And admit to what I mean/In you and you in me?”

Our gospel reading today—from the beginning of the 5^th chapter of John’s gospel—gives us an example of the sort of work we may summoned to do as followers of Jesus.  There are three aspects of this story of the healing of the man who had been ill for 38 years which can apply to circumstances when we try to help others in Jesus’ name.

First, Jesus showed the man respect.  Jesus’ question, “Do you wish to be made well?,” offered the man an opening to express what he was thinking and feeling.  Today we would say Jesus was giving the man “agency.”  The man now had the opportunity to be an active part of what was about to happen.

Second, the man’s reply depicts someone having no hope and resigned to his fate.  Indeed the man showed a lack of “agency.”  His reply attributed his lack of access to what others have done to get to the healing water which prevented him from getting to it, “ . . . while I am making my way, someone else steps down in front of me.”

Finally, Jesus’s words offered the man healing—healing that could come as the man actively responded to those words—healing that would go against the tradition and commandment of “no work” on the sabbath.  Both Jesus and the man surely “risked the hostile state” by this man becoming well, whole and restored to his former state--on the sabbath. 

Richard Rohr, a Roman Catholic priest who practices a contemplative life style, speaks about our becoming “co-participants” in what God is doing to create God’s reign now. This man who had been ill for 38 years became of “co-participant” with Jesus’ did that day.  He responded in faith and with hope when he took up his mat and walked away.

And we can also be “co-participants” with God in the work which draws us closer step-by-step to God’s reign.  This reign will be marked by healing for all, that is, every person becoming whole and becoming their true selves.

This “co-participation” usually will not come easily.  We have to face our own attitudes and those of others:

o   Can we see those we believe may need our help as worthy of our respect?

o   Can we see how they might gain “agency” to make a difference in their situations?

o   Will we support their doing so? 

o   Are we willing to allow ourselves to be vulnerable to criticism and risk what others may think of us when we act or take a stand?

o   Are we willing, with God’s help of course, to offer ourselves fully?

“Will you leave yourself behind/If I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind/And never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare/Should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer pray’r/In you and you in me?

“Will you let the blinded see/If I but call your name?
Will you set the pris’ners free/And never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean,/And do such as this unseen,
And admit to what I mean/In you and you in me.”

“The Summons” © 1987, Iona Community, GIA Publications, Inc. agent