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Ash Wednesday
March 1, 2006 Sermon
by Rev. Peggy Tuttle, Interim Rector
Readings
In a wonderful collection of ecclesiastical laughs, the Rev. J. Stephen Hines has put together a fabulous little book called Easy on the Alleluias, Harry: A Collection of Episcopal Church Humor (Cashiers Press: 1993).
In the section entitled “Kids,” the Rev Chad Minifie submitted this vignette appropriate for Ash Wednesday:
Two young teenage boys are having a conversation. One looks at the other and announces, “I’ve decided to give up pot for Lent.” The other replies, “What’s that?” “You know,” he says, “it’s that stuff you roll into cigarettes, and you smoke, and it makes you high.” To which his friend retorts, “I know what pot is, what’s Lent?”
Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent and there are many people who don’t know what that season means. We live in a world where many people are unchurched, unfamiliar with what it means to observe Christian traditions. We rarely hear friends talk about fasting! Denying ourselves during Lent usually has an ulterior motive such as weight loss or quitting tobacco or alcohol or chocolate. Eliminating most of those from our lives would only make us healthier (Not chocolate! of course, we need that!) For most of us, we just keep eating three meals a day, if we give up coffee we just find some other source of caffeine to take its place to keep us going.
We are here at the beginning of Lent and it is time to reflect on what that means to us individually and collectively as a worshiping community.
The lives of many communities, throughout the world, have been damaged because of the events of this last year. Some try to forget, for just a short time, by reenacting the rituals of their heritage. Others simply celebrate before entering the season of reflection. That was yesterday – Fat Tuesday, Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras Day, the Day of Carnival.
We celebrated here, in the Parish Hall last night, when many of us gathered for pancakes, applesauce and syrup. We were entertained by a variety of talents performed by kids of all ages.
Today, we are at Ash Wednesday and we wear the mark of death on our foreheads! It is a reminder about things that matter. It is reminder that we are mortal and these bodies can break and wither and decay. But Ash Wednesday and Lent are about much more than that. This is season when we have the opportunity to get to know our God in a new and deeper way.
God cares for us, loves us, grieves with us, laughs with us and bears our burdens. God forgives in ways that we can never imagine. God makes life new again when we find our way back to asking for that forgiveness. Lent is an invitation to forgiveness.
Forgiveness is important to our lives and our relationships. It is important to our health and our hearts. Forgiveness doesn’t mean we condone the actions of others. It means those actions will no longer hold us hostage. Harboring grievances against another is only feeding the monster within us. Feed it enough and it will eat your heart. It will take away your ability to love another. It will prevent you from moving forward in life. You will become a detractor rather than a magnet of friends and family.
God can heal that kind of grief. God can put us back together again if we only ask.
The Rev. John Claypool, former rector of St. Luke’s in Birmingham, Alabama, an author, and preacher extraordinaire but most of all he is a storyteller. In a small book entitled Mending the Heart, (July 1999, Cowley Publications) John tells this story:
All that I know about the wonder of forgiveness can be summed up in something that happened to a friend of mine many years ago when his five-year-old son started kindergarten. In October of that fall, the teacher said to the class, “Would any of you like to make something for your parents as a Christmas present?” Tim, my friend’s little boy, held up his hand: “My dad smokes a pipe! I would love to make him an ashtray.” So the teacher got some clay and helped guide his fingers until they roughly shaped it into the likeness of an ashtray. She asked him about his father’s favorite color and they painted it blue, and then put the ashtray into a little kiln. Tim watched with wonder as the work of his hands began to glisten with bright color.
When it came time for Christmas vacation, the friend and his wife went to the Christmas pageant that was always held on the last day before Christmas break. Following the pageant the little boy went to his classroom and picked up the carefully wrapped gift, but in his haste to run down the hall and put on his coat and wave good-bye to his friends all at once, Tim tripped—and the precious package went up in the air and came down hitting the floor with a terrible cracking sound. When he realized that all the work of the fall and all his hopes for Christmas morning were dashed, the child began to cry as if his heart would break.
The father came from a military background and it made him very uncomfortable to see a male child show his emotion in public by crying. “Don’t cry, son, don’t cry,” he said as he walked over to the little boy. “It doesn’t make any difference.” But his wife, who was much wiser, came right behind him and said, “You are completely wrong. Of course it matters!” And with that, she swept up the weeping child in her arms and began to weep with him the tears that are utterly appropriate when a precious thing in life has been broken. Her husband watched with wonder as she reached into her purse and got out her handkerchief to wipe the tears very gently from her own eyes and from the face of her son. Then she said resolutely, “Come on Timmy, let’s pick up the pieces and take them home and see what we can make of what is left.”
We come to Lent with broken hearts, broken lives, broken relationships, sometimes having lost our hearts over to the brokenness of our lives. We have tripped along life’s pathway and our hearts have fallen to the ground, shattering into pieces. Weeping is even difficult sometimes and the pain can be overwhelming even debilitating. But like the mother in the story, Jesus knows what pain is like and He is there waiting to pick us up, wipe away our tears and begin to mend our hearts.
“Timmy’s mother makes no attempt to avoid the genuine pain of the moment but she also insists there is still a future in spite of the past. There is still something that can be done.” That is the heart of the Gospel. “Because of God’s incredible patience, mercy, and hope, we can stoop over to pick up the pieces, learn what there is to learn from the experience, and then see what we can make of what is left.”
The Prophet Joel writes, “Rend your hearts and not your clothing.” Break open your hearts and let the healing power of God’s love mend your pain, your sorrow, your guilt, your grievances, whatever it is that separates you from fullness of life.
Welcome to a holy Lent!