Driven by Our "Whys"

A sermon preached with the people of Lordstown Lutheran Church in Lordstown, Ohio.

This evening we meet Jesus in the middle of his Sermon on the Mount. He has already taken us through the marvelous and disorienting beatitudes – telling us the whole social order will be turned on its head in the coming Kingdom of God. He has told us that we are the salt of the earth; the light of the world. He has reminded us of the great “shall nots” of ancient holy scripture, challenging us to more than simply following them to the letter. 

And now, he is teaching about piety. About how we give thanks and praise to God.

Jesus’ words poke at my heart a little bit when I hear them each Ash Wednesday. They make me question myself and my motives, here on this particular day, as I publicly mark myself with a visible symbol of my faith. “Should I be doing this,” I think? And then, “Why am I doing this?”

And, I think it may be that second question Jesus is really getting at here. That “why.”

Jesus is not in the shame game, so this is not about feeling guilty for how we practice our faith. I think this is Jesus saying, our faith is simply not a set of checkboxes. And if we find ourselves thinking that way, we have lost touch with our “whys.”

Jesus tells us, ‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.’ This is just one “why” that might drive us to give. Ultimately, we are never in control. God is. This is just one “why” that might drive us to pray. All things come from God, and belong to God. This is just one “why” that might drive us to fast. We are, all of us, caught up in systems of sin. This is just one “why” that might drive us to repent.

When we allow our “whys” to inform our decisions, the thanks and praise flows from there. And the checkboxes fade away.

I’m not trying to make it sound easy – it’s not! ! But the thing I find so beautiful to think about is that the ways in which we respond to our “whys” will look different. There is room in this life of faith for those who do not have financial resources to give. There is room in this life of faith for those who medically cannot fast. There is room in this life of faith for those who pray in any kind of way – in words, with actions, with sounds, or movement -- in ways that may never be known to us.

Jesus invites us all to this life, and warns us against lionizing those who practice their piety in some very particular, visible way.

A few moments ago, we took part in a public ritual, marking our foreheads with ash. We were told that we are dust. And to dust we shall return.

My “why” for taking part in this ritual may be different from your “why.” I’ve distributed ashes in quite a few places to many people. Some weep. Some remain stone-faced. Some smile. Some chuckle. Some allow a single tear to escape an eye.

Every one of these responses is good. And right. Because each one speaks to the “why” that drove this individual to this tradition on this particular Ash Wednesday.

Because, friends – let’s be honest -- being told “you will die” is troubling. And absurd. And weird. And, most of all, it is true.

And you know what else is true? You will live. That’s the truth sitting right there behind that first one. That’s the truth at the center of our Christian faith.

All of us. We will live.

And this belief in the improbable, impossible reality of resurrection is our ultimate shared “why.” It is this hope of everlasting life that, at our best, shines through to those around us in everything we do.

I know it is somewhat unusual to speak of resurrection as we enter the Holy Season of Lent, but I object to the notion that we are meant to wallow in death and pain for 40 days, pretending we don’t know that new life is just around the corner. We have started our liturgical journey toward Jerusalem, yes. And we know we will meet Jesus at the cross, yes. And we will sit with him there, and wait, and pray.

But we will also, always, know the cross is not and never will be the end of the story.

This evening, I believe Jesus is telling us there is no benefit in piety for piety’s sake. But there is untold benefit in living our everyday lives as followers of Christ, allowing ourselves to be driven by our “whys,” and letting God’s love flow from there.