Sermon from February 25, 1998

Sermon "Ashes to Ashes...In Sure and Certain Hope"
Rev. Dr. Steven A. Peay
Wednesday, February 25, 1998

"Ashes to Ashes...In Sure and Certain Hope"

"Ashes to ashes; dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of the dead..."

The words of committal to the grave echo the words from Genesis 3:19 which traditionally accompany the imposition of ashes. "Remember, o man, that thou art dust. And unto dust thou shalt return." These words, which evoke our creation "from the dust of the earth," are reality words; words which call us to memento mori, remembrance of our mortality; humbling words.

When we realize that the word 'humble' has its roots (please pardon the pun) in humus -- soil, earth, ground -- it makes even more sense. To be humble in not to be like the Dickens character Uriah Heap ("I am so very `umble.") who wore his so-called humility like a cloak. Rather, to be humble is to be grounded, to know what we are and where we are. No doubt, this is why the Old Testament mode of repentance was in "sackcloth and ashes" -- stark reminders of humility.

Lent is the season of the church year which is designed, intended to ground us. Saint Benedict in his Rule for Monks wrote, "The life of a monk ought to be a continuous Lent. Since few, however, have the strength for this, we urge the entire community during these days of Lent to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away in this holy season the negligences of other times." These words, while addressed to monks, have great value for individual Christians. We are gifted with a forty day retreat, a time to stand back and to take stock of how we have related to God, to others, and to ourselves. After an honest look, we throw off what is wrong and begin to put on what is good.

It's very important that we see Lent within the context of the Scriptures we have read today. The Prophet Joel (echoed in the call to worship) and the Apostle Paul both calling us to an eternal now -- the acceptable time -- to return to God...and which of us hasn't wandered a bit? So, we turn to the Scriptures with renewed attention, seeking not just to know them intellectually, but that the Word of God become a source of communication and enlightenment. If we want to hear the call of God we first must listen and we listen through the Word. That's why the Puritans rejected so much of liturgical worship, not always realizing it can be a vehicle of the Word, they wanted to hear God speak.

Since all forms of prayer really are rooted in listening to the Word, then we are also called to greater attentiveness in our times of public worship and private prayer. It is for that same reason, traditionally, we have developed Lenten disciplines -- the `give ups' and `take ups.' Fasting is a discipline we Christians inherited from Judaism. In Matthew's Gospel today, we hear Jesus talk about how this discipline is to be properly undertaken. Long before Lent developed, Christians fasted on Wednesdays (the day of the Lord's betrayal) and on Fridays (the day of his death) -- also became the Jews fasted on Tuesdays and Thursdays -- except during Eastertide. When Lent became officially organized the disciplines of fasting were extended to every day of the season -- a custom still observed by those in the Christian East -- and an element of preparation for the Easter season.

Fasting is something very difficult for our society, but worthy of consideration. It is a grave mistake to think that fasting is an ascetical practice which has absolute value in itself. A Christian fast -- in or out of Lent -- is not something self-imposed, nor is it a penitential punishment. Nor does it show contempt for the body, or any food, or any other thing from which we abstain. Fasting is simply like the virtue of frugality, which values moderation. Fasting heightens our awareness -- it is a grounding -- which then allows us to move on. We know the goodness of what we have even better after we have abstained from it.

Thus fasting is always seen in tandem with prayer and almsgiving -- service to others. In the Fathers of the Church we read again and again, "One fasts to be able to share." Around the year 130 Aristides, an apologist for the faith, wrote: "When there are poor persons among them needing assistance, Christians fast for two or three days and customarily send them the food they had prepared for themselves." Peter Chrysologus -- the name means one "of golden words" -- would preach:

There are three things, my brethren, by which faith stands firm, devotion remains constant, and virtue endures. They are prayer, fasting and mercy, Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy, and fasting: these three are one, and they give life to each other.

The grounding of Lenten observance is to help us on our journey to the renewal of life which is celebrated by Easter. We undertake these disciplines in order that we may continue the walk refreshed and renewed after the forty days. Our disciplines are like seeds, they begin small and hard, but grow into wonderful things. The seeds of Lenten observance may involve abstinence from some favorite food or activity, but could also do just as well to be a "take up" of something we see lacking in our lives. Perhaps more time for Bible reading, for prayer, trying to find something good to say about a difficult person, or working on some problem attitude, all are good Lenten seeds. The seeds we plant in this spiritual spring grow, blossom, and bear fruit throughout the rest of the year -- remember, that `Lent' comes from the Old English word `Lencten' or spring.

We take stock, we admit our faults, our shortcoming, our lack of care, but we do not wallow in our sinfulness. We admit it -- and we move on. God isn't interested in our 'breastbeating,' he wants hearts turned toward him and lives lived toward others in love -- "rend your hearts not your garments." So, we think about, pray about who we are and what we wish to become in light of God's love and will for us. Our Lenten observance -- be it a 'give-up' or a 'take-up' -- is merely a response to deepening that awareness.

The ashes of this day are merely the soil in which we plant the seeds of new life. I like what the poet Mary Clare van Orsdal has written -- it's a bit jarring, but wonderful.

Whoever on that medieval day

decided that it had to be ashes

to sign the season, was in touch with death

but he'd forgotten the place of red earth,

remembered in the gut by those who know

dirt mixed with the blood of woman giving birth.

The flesh of one so full of hope cries out,

comes pushing now the growing, wintered well

in her womb, wailing songs of the longing

for life and love and gentleness of green

and a springtime sun to be welcoming

for us, to warm us out of these our tombs

to bid us light and peace and graciousness.

So we are signed with earth -- with death and birth.

"Remember, o man, that thou art dust...ashes to ashes, dust to dust in sure and certain hope...." Amen.

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