Let’s Tell the World
A sermon preached on March 1, 2020 at St. James Episcopal Church in Arlington, Vermont.
On Wednesday, a few of us stood outside for a few hours – offering ashes and prayers for those who stopped by in a practice known as Ashes to Go. I love Ashes to Go. Deeply. It gives me a chance to meet new people and to share a holy moment of connection as two human beings pause in the midst of an otherwise routine day to bathe in two truths: one, the truth that this life is precious and it is finite – that we will die. And two, the truth that God’s love for us is without exception and is infinite – that we will live.
These encounters during Ashes to Go are sometimes emotional. Sometimes, people who have not gone to church in many years, or perhaps have never gone to church – are drawn to this practice. And I find these people have more often than not recently been touched by death or near-death.
On the surface, it seems counterintuitive. Why would someone struggling with death come to a stranger to be told “you will die?” I think the answer lies in the second truth that sits right behind that first one – you will live.
If we Christians are doing it right, our central, foundational hope in the improbable, impossible reality of resurrection shines through to those around us in everything we do. And I think the public display of Ash Wednesday is one of our most effective ways of communicating that hope.
When we show up with an open invitation to experience our symbols, our prayers and our presence with no strings attached, the Holy Spirit does the work more effectively than a theological lecture ever could.
What we show the world on Ash Wednesday is that we Christians are comfortable acknowledging the hardest edges of our time on this planet. We show the world that we see the great pain and injustice and violence and illness and addiction and death all around us. And we create a space that is safe for people to express grief and anger and sadness and any kind of emotion those things elicit in them.
And, at the very same time, we offer the assurance of God’s presence, God’s love and the hope of God’s coming kingdom.
The ashes symbolize death. And, they are administered with the bodily touch of another living human being. One member of the Body of Christ saying, through touch -- “I am right here with you. And so is God.” It’s so breathtakingly simple. It makes me wonder why it seems so very rare and so very special.
And now, having received our ashes, we find ourselves in the season of Lent. And on this first Sunday in Lent, we find Jesus in the wilderness. We find him hungry and alone in a scary place. We find him taunted and tempted.
“You’re famished,” says the devil. “Just go ahead and make those rocks into bread.
Jesus says “no.”
“Why don’t you show off your Godly powers,” says the devil. “Jump off this cliff and show everyone that angels will save you.”
Jesus says “no.”
“Hey, I will make you emperor of the whole world if you worship me,” says the devil.
Jesus says “no.”
Jesus is not here to escape the difficulty of being human – of experiencing the hardship of a wilderness time or a wilderness place. Jesus is here to sit with us in that difficulty. To remind us that we are never alone – that we live in God’s love, and that we are called to show that love by our notice and care for others. Jesus is here to remind us that if we hear a message that tells us “you ought to be able to get through this on you own without any help from anyone,” this is the devil in our ear.
After his wilderness time, Jesus dives directly into his ministry – calling people he meets along the way to join him. Showing his notice, his love and care for the sick, the poor and the forgotten. Meeting with strangers. Hearing them. Healing them. Teaching them that yes, death is coming. And, teaching them that “new and unending life” is coming.
On this cold, snow-covered early March morning – as our country processes the aftermath of yet another mass shooting, as the world is gripped by the news of a spreading virus, as our country continues to violate basic human rights at our border, and as our own community and church mourns beloved friends and family members – Jesus is reaching out to us. Jesus is telling us that our God is right here with us. Jesus is reminding us that our God is stronger than the devil. And Jesus is reminding us that we will die. And we will live.
Every one of us will experience a time when it seems the snow will never turn to grass, that happiness will never return to us, that Easter will not come. And these are the times our communities carry us. Our communities hold the hope of new life for us, when we can’t.
But not everyone has a community. So many people are starving for belonging. For connection. For hope. For the love and care Jesus teaches us to practice.
Ash Wednesday is a day when the church freely offers this love and care to the outside world. On subway platforms and in airports. In hospitals and pubs. On street corners and parking lots. On ski slopes and outside grocery stores.
It’s freeing, really. I think for many it serves as a day where we have “blanket permission” to share the love of Christ with the world without the nagging voice in the back of our minds wondering how this encounter will lead to church growth or an increase in pledging units. And that tells me we might really be onto something with Ash Wednesday.
What if we found a way to freely offer the love of Christ to all throughout the forty days of Lent? To let our foundational hope in the improbable, impossible reality of resurrection shine through? What would that look like if this was our Lenten practice?
What else could we as a parish or as individuals do to bring the love and care of Jesus to the wider community through Lent? Where and how could we be present in such a way that it would help people feel the love of God and know they are not alone? I don’t have the answers, but I sure want to hear yours.
Death will come, sorrow is real, God is here, and resurrection is coming.
Let’s tell the world.