Ash Wednesday: Part II

Social media is a funny thing.

On Ash Wednesday, my Facebook newsfeed was filled with status updates with some variation on, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you will return."  Lots of people changed their pictures to depict the freshly pressed cross of ashes on their foreheads.  I didn't really know what to think of it, since I preached on the text from Matthew 6:1-16, 16-21.  It's the one that talks about not bragging like the hypocrites in the streets about how much you pray or don't act dismal because you're fasting.

Here's my Ash Wednesday sermon, if you're curious:

Sermon: Matthew 6.1-6, 16-21

St. John’s Episcopal Church, Ash Wednesday

February 13, 2013

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.

We’ll each hear these words in a few moments, as we have the opportunity to receive the sign of the cross in ashes on our foreheads.  The mark of Christ on our brow, visible for the whole world to see, labels us as Christ-followers. 

“But when you give alms, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret.  But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret.  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.”

Our Gospel lesson on this day specifically cautions us against practicing our piety before others, showing the visible signs of our faith to others, on the very same day that we will paint your faces and send you out the door. 

Does this confuse anyone else?

In this very act of putting these ashes, these charred remains of last year’s palms, we defy what Christ is teaching here according to Matthew.  Right? 

While we gather in this community to mark ourselves with Christ, we have to read verse 21 again: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Where your treasure is, your heart will be there also.  What you value and hold onto is where your heart is.  These ashes on our foreheads are not to show off to others that we went to an Ash Wednesday service, but as a conversation with God about who we are and whose we are.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. 

Some reflect on these words as degrading or sad, but I find them incredibly inspiring.  Remember that you started out as nothingness and God created you into this living, breathing, loving, caring person, and that your body will return to the earth.  Our holy potter has created us out of clay, naming us and claiming us as the children of the Heavenly Grandfather.  God marks our foreheads with the ashes, not Karen or I, to remind us where our hearts are.  This very act is a way to center ourselves and purify ourselves for God in these coming days.

As a part of the Ash Wednesday service, we will complete Confession and Absolution.  Using words, we’ll acknowledge to God where we’ve fallen short and where we ask for the forgiveness to try again tomorrow.  Acknowledging that we are dust and that we will return to dust, regardless of how well we eat or how much money we put in the offering plate, creates in us a clean heart, ready to receive God into our hearts, despite being unworthy to do so.

In the traditional service at funerals, I’ve witnessed how a person’s face is painted with the sacred color of red.  It was first described to me as a way to make the person recognizable to the Great Spirit once the person entered into the afterlife.  Someone else shared with me that the painting of the sacred color on the face purifies the person who has died, recognizing that the good and bad this person had done was absolved to the Creator.  Similarly, when a warrior returned from battle, the cheeks are painted with black, with ashes even, as a way to get rid of the bad and cleanse the person, inside and out, to be a part of the community again. 

This mark on our foreheads today is like this act of sanctifying and purifying.  These ashes, the charred bits of plants from last year’s Palm Sunday, the time when we remember Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, his final journey into the city as one of us, are rubbed onto our faces to claim us for God.  Our Creator knows us inside and out, up and down, left and right.  This marks us and reminds us of our humble beginning as dust.  Just as God created new life out of the dirt of the earth to form our bodies, God created new life in Jesus Christ, our savior and redeemer, when he came to the world for us, for our plain, dirty selves, completely incapable of creating ourselves and saving ourselves. 

No matter how pretty our prayers are or if we give up chocolate, the time of Lent is to prepare ourselves for Christ in our hearts.  If a life in Christ is what we value, then our hearts will be there also. 

As we enter into the forty days of Lent, I challenge you to think about this cross on your forehead as a way to purify your heart and to discern where your treasure is. 

Who are you?              What do you value?               

What does it mean to have the mark of Christ on your body, but more importantly, what does it mean to have the mark of Christ on your heart? 

Don’t answer these questions to me or to the person next to you.  Answer them for yourself, in secret, where God your loving Creator sees you and can recognize the seal of Christ on your brow long after the ashes have been washed away.