A
cartoon in a recent New Yorker shows an elderly woman using two canes to keep
herself balanced exiting the front door of her church. A much younger (40ish) clergyman stands by
the open front door to greet her—and possibly assist her down the six steps to
the walkway. She smiles and thanks him
with these words, “Thank you, Reverend, your sermon has me super-excited about
croaking.”
As we begin keeping a holy Lent by attending this Ash
Wednesday service, we are encouraged to think about—to use the elderly woman’s
word—“croaking.” When I smear an ashen
cross on your forehead, I will say the words, “Remember that you are dust and
to dust you shall return.” Theologians
dress up this concept with the word “finitude,” which means, of course, each us
will come to the end of our earthly life.
A
lot of anxiety may crop up in our minds when we are forced to face our own
mortality. How? When? Will it be
painful? We usually turn away from
considering such difficult thoughts. We
fill our lives with busy-ness or try to escape with alcohol or drugs or
something else to distract ourselves.
The words we hear and speak on Ash Wednesday tell us
there is no escaping our finitude, no other way in the end but “croaking.” But as Christians, we believe that though we
die, because of Jesus Christ, yet shall we live. Or as the preacher Tony Campolo says, “It’s
Friday, but Sunday’s coming.”
On this day we might echo Tony Campolo and say, “It’s Ash
Wednesday, but Easter’s coming.” This
day we honor the fact that our lives on this earth will end by offering all
that we are RIGHT NOW—including our fears and our sins—to the Holy One who
created us and who loves us. With this
offering of ourselves we are acting out of faith, not fear—faith that God’s
reign, which began with Jesus, will finally triumph over all evil and all death. For in the age to come there will be no more
finitude, but life everlasting!
The theologian, Walter Brueggemann, wrote a poem entitled,
“Marked by Ashes,” that depicts the relationship between today and the Day of
Resurrection. In it he uses the word
“Easter” in a most interesting way—as a verb—“to Easter.” Let’s listen to his thoughts, as we ponder
what this day means and how we can keep a holy Lent.
Marked by Ashes
Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day—a gift from you.
This day—like none other you have ever given, or we have ever
received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and
possibility.
halfway back
to committees and memos,
halfway back to calls and
appointments,
halfway on to next Sunday,
halfway back, half frazzled, half
expectant, half,
turned toward you, half rather not.
This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
[of course, I am reading this on Ash
Wednesday]
but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes—
we begin this day with that taste of ash in
our mouth:
of failed hope and broken promises,
of forgotten children and frightened
women,
we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to
dust;
we can taste our morality as we roll the ash
around on our tongues.
We are able to ponder our ashness
with some confidence, only because
our every Wednesday of ashes
anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky, taste of death.
anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky, taste of death.
On this Wednesday, we submit our ashesn way to you—
You Easter parade
of newness.
Before the sun
sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
Easter us to
joy and energy and courage and freedom;
Easter us
that we may be fearless for your truth.
Come here and
Easter our Wednesday with
mercy and
just and peace and generosity.
We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.
So as we enter this holy
season of Lent, we remember the traditional practices of the season: prayer,
fasting and almsgiving. Yes, we do these
things at other times, but during Lent we try to do them with special
intention. We do them to show
repentance, but we should not do them in fear of damnation. Let us ask God “to Easter” what we do to keep
this Lent, so we do not do them in fear, but in the hope of Resurrection and
Eternal Life. May God bless your keeping
of a Holy Lent.
“Marked by Ashes” by Walter Brueggemann from Prayers for a Privileged People (Nashville:
Abingdon, 2008) p. 27-8.
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