Ash Wednesday C2016
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21, Isaiah 58:1-12
Pastor Sarah Stadler
Ash Wednesday, the day we stand before one another and hear startling words: Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.
The day we stand before one another and feel the dry, ashy cross smeared upon our foreheads. The day we stand before one another and confess our sin, our most grievous sin. Ash Wednesday, the day we cannot tell a lie. We are mortal, broken, flawed, sinful.
Our scripture readings for tonight show us mortal, broken, flawed, sinful people who thought that they could tell a lie about who they were. The people of God to whom Isaiah prophesied, they thought that, if they fasted and prayed and made appropriate sacrifices, that would be sufficient to be followers of the Most High, that they could stand before God with clean consciences. They were religious, devout even; they looked tremendously pious. But the truth was that they failed to do justice, that they neglected the most vulnerable people in their society, that they exploited their workers.
“We are so like the hypocrites of whom Jesus spoke. ”
The hypocrites of whom Jesus spoke in his sermon on the mount thought they too could tell a lie about who they were. These hypocrites did all the right things: prayed and fasted and gave. And they did all the right things in the sight of all the right people and made sure that all the right people knew they did all the right things. They were religious, devout even; they looked tremendously pious. But the truth was that their faith, their piety, their love for others and for God was very thin. The truth was that their piety was only skin-deep; it did not penetrate to their hearts.
We are so like the people of God to whom Isaiah prophesied. We are so like the hypocrites of whom Jesus spoke. We like to look perfect, righteous, pure, even immortal. But no matter how hard we try, the truth is that we are mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful. We gossip and tell lies. We take pleasure in the misfortune of people we dislike. We fail to question the systems that produce injustice, and we easily overlook our own prejudices. We ignore those who are most vulnerable in our society and pretend that all is well in the world even when violence and exploitation abound. We even convince ourselves that Jesus was exaggerating when he said such unreasonable things as: Love your enemies. Turn the other cheek. And sell your possessions and give the money to the poor. We are not eager to embrace the difficulties of a life of faith.
“Ash Wednesday, the day we cannot tell a lie.”
But here’s what I love about Ash Wednesday, the day we cannot tell a lie. The truth about who we are is laid bare upon our foreheads, upon each of our foreheads. In a few moments, the cross of ash will be smeared upon your forehead, and the truth will be visible for all to see: you are dust and to dust you shall return. You are mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful, just like your neighbor. We are a whole room, indeed, a whole world, of mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful human beings.
But there is no shame in this truth because there is another truth.
Ash Wednesday, the day we cannot tell a lie. Just as we are mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful, so too are we loved. And the truth of our belovedness is as evident on this day as is our mortality, our brokenness, our flaws, and our sins. The cross that declares us mortal and broken is the same cross that reveals us beloved. That same cross reveals where our belovedness comes from: God. There it is, right on our foreheads. That cross is the sign we receive in baptism, a cross that assures us of God’s everlasting love for us, a cross that reminds us our belovedness is not tied to what we do but simply the result of whose we are: God’s. We are God’s own beloved children.
On this day, Ash Wednesday, we cannot tell a lie. We are mortal and broken, yes, and we are also loved. And it is because we are loved that we can stand before one another and confess our sin, our most grievous sin, with courage and raw honesty. It is because we are loved that we can stand before one another with that dry, ashy cross on our foreheads, our mortality and brokenness there for all to see. It is because we are loved that we can stand before one another and hear of our mortality and our limitations without fear: remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.
“We are mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful, yes, and we are loved. ”
Ash Wednesday is the start of the Lenten season, a 40-day period of time when we reflect on our lives and our walk with God, a time when we repent of our sin and brokenness, a time when we are honest about our flaws and limitations. The great sadness found in our biblical passages tonight, the great sadness about our ancestors in faith—the ones to whom Isaiah prophesied, the ones Jesus chastised—is that they thought they could earn God’s love by covering up who they were. They told God and their community and themselves lies about who they were. But here’s the thing I love about Ash Wednesday: who we are is not shameful. We are mortal, broken, flawed, and sinful, yes, and we are loved. There is no need to tell lies about who we are. God sees who we are and loves us in our brokenness.
The two truths of Ash Wednesday. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Remember that you are loved and that this love will never end.