First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Ash Wednesday - March 1, 2001
Buried in yesterday’s stack of e-mails was Stew Peck’s story of an 87-year-old woman who gave up beer for Lent, only to lament the fact that the hard liquor she commenced to drink instead made her brain furry and her tongue fuzzy. Or maybe it was the other way around.
All of which served to remind me that when I was a whole lot younger and just starting out in this Christian life business, there was a lot about Lent not to like. Lent seemed like one long, bleak landscape….a season of willful deprivation punctuated by an abundance of insincere denial. Worse yet, Lent began with a mark that only Catholics had….meaning that my Catholic friends went to mass before class and emerged with black smudges on their foreheads. Which may have started out as the sign of the cross when they left the sanctuary, but looked like a place on their face they forgot to wash by the time they reached the schoolroom.
I knew that their “dirty spot” was something religious….something I didn’t have…. something that set them apart from me and my Protestant friends….and something that made me feel temporarily unholy, not to mention spiritually inferior. But remembering Jesus’ word, “Beware of practicing your piety before men,” I rested secure in the smugness that I knew where they were going.
Surely, I thought, there has to be more to this season than dirt. Which there was. And is. But what? Well, start with this. Lent is largely our own. Meaning that it belongs to the church rather than the world. In case you hadn’t noticed, the world doesn’t give a “fig” about Lent. Never has. Probably never will. Think of the last great Lenten movie you saw.
To be sure, the world observes the day before Lent. Why, that’s Paczki Day. That’s “Gobble Down the Jelly Donuts” day. That’s “Pig Out on Pancakes” day. And in New Orleans, that’s “Bring Mardi Gras to a Drunken Conclusion” day. But one wonders how many people there are this morning who understand why they stuffed their stomachs or soaked their livers yesterday (a Tuesday)….instead of tomorrow (a Thursday)….or next week (perchance on a Monday).
Is there anybody who gorged yesterday who will fast today? I doubt it. And without the denial to follow, does the binge at the beginning make any sense? Does anybody even think about it? No, as far as the over-stuffed and the hung-over view things this morning, Lent provided a wonderful excuse for a party. Except that fewer and fewer people remember what the excuse was.
But for us, Lent is the church’s way of telling time.
· How much longer to Calvary?
· How much longer to Easter?
It is the church’s way of remembering the adult Jesus (and how everything ended)….rather than the baby Jesus (and how everything began).
Once upon a time, Lent was a preparatory period….a time of instruction….getting candidates ready for Easter baptism. Today, it’s much more than that. Or can be.
For some, Lent is a disciplined effort at self-improvement. More than “forty days to thinner thighs,” Lent might involve a conscious decision to better the self in ways deemed necessary or spiritually beneficial.
· Services rendered
· Habits reformed
· Chapters read
· Letters written
· Worship attended
· Kindness rendered
· Reconciliation extended
While for others, Lent is the church’s permission to go inward.
· To investigate the interior life
· To be, rather than do
· To deepen, rather than widen
· To replicate the forty days our Lord spent in the wilderness….staring down temptation….stepping up to obligation….saying, “this I mustn’t do”….countering with “this I ought to do”
· Listening for God
· Waiting upon God
· Meditating
· Praying
· Journaling
· Or merely making peace with silence
As for giving something up….or taking something on….you be the judge. And as for doing better….versus digging deeper….well, you be the judge of that, too. Ask yourself a question: “Which needs more work, my behavior or my interior?” Only you know.
All I know is that a genuine Easter rarely comes to someone who has taken no steps to prepare for it. Somebody….or something….needs to die in order for something else to be born.
Except that there is one other thing I know. Every journey begins with a first step. Which is what Ash Wednesday represents. A first step, that’s all. A first step.
If the ashes are helpful, use them. I will. But that’s me. Now that half a century has gone by, I have gotten over feeling inferior to the Catholics, to the degree that it no longer bothers me to mimic them. Following the 8:00 service, somebody came out and told me that she had used ashes for the very first time. When I asked why, she said: “For purposes of solidarity. I wanted to identify with my Roman Catholic daughter-in-law.”
Ashes are a pretty potent symbol. On one hand, they remind me of my mortality….and I have noticed that I am not getting any younger. On the other hand, they remind me of my fallibility….and I have also noticed I am not getting any better, either. But God seems to know that. And….mercifully….it doesn’t seem to make a difference.
Just as I am and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Note: At First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, we celebrate 13 Ash Wednesday services (each one on the hour) beginning at 7:00 a.m. and concluding at 7:00 p.m. This communion meditation was delivered at the first three of those services (7:00, 8:00, 9:00), thus clarifying the references to “morning.”
