[Propertalk] Ash Wednesday

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

Here's my draft for Ash Wednesday. Tweaking has already commenced!

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY  	         		 
ASH WEDNESDAY - B
JOEL 2:1-2, 12-17	                          		    	                	 
22nd FEBRUARY, 2012
2 CORINTHIANS 5:20b – 6:10	                                                	 
PSALM 51:1-17
MATTHEW 6:1-6, 16-21

	The first thing that God brought to the attention of the very first 
witnesses to Jesus’ birth – the arrival of God’s Word on earth – the 
first thing that these witnesses heard were the words, “Do NOT be 
afraid” and, in one way or another, that’s what Jesus’ entire message 
was about.
	You have problems with the authorities? Don’t be afraid!
	Your joints acting up? Don’t be afraid!
	Your relationships not what they could be? Don’t be afraid!
	And here’s the big one –
	You think you and God aren’t getting along? Don’t be afraid!

	There are SO many things which can scare the pants off us these days. 
At least Jesus didn’t have 24/7 TV news broadcasts with which to 
contend, but I’d assume that the local gossip telegraph worked pretty 
well in His day. No matter where He went, though, from village to the 
lake, to the countryside to Jerusalem and back again – His message was 
always one of comfort, of healing, of assurance that nothing can ever 
drive us away from God – not even our goofs, our thoughtlessness, our 
sins.

	THAT’S what’s so amazing about this day. We think about the silence in 
which we began. We think about the situations from which we may have 
come to this place. We think about the pain in our knee, or our hip, or 
our head, or our heart. Then we glance through the liturgy for today and 
we see words like ashes – have mercy on us sinners – about people who 
seem to be separated off from their community of faith – remember O 
woman / O man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. This is 
scary stuff, yet it’s also so highly comforting. If Jesus DIDN’T care 
He’d have taken off like a shot at the first sign of trouble in Israel. 
If God DIDN’T love us and want our company, and is willing to do 
anything to ensure our presence at the party, then there would have been 
no need for this. We could have sat at home, perhaps with ice on our 
pained joints, or a drink at our side, or with the phone turned off so 
we won’t be bothered by anyone who’s making our lives such a burden.

	But, instead, God’s Spirit brings us to this place to reflect on the 
gifts with which we’ve been blessed – and possibly misused or not used 
yet – and to hear once again that God longs to forgive us and to bring 
us all home.

	Here’s a marvelous quote attributed to Martin Luther King, Jr. He’s 
said to have remarked, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light 
can do that.”

	Think about that for a minute. Ash Wednesday us a day when the lights 
are on, the candles lit, the altar set – when we find all sorts of 
symbols of light and renewal. Yes, ash will be imposed on our foreheads 
as a reminder of our humanity and that none of us will see Jesus in all 
His welcoming glory without these bodies being put to rest. Yes, we talk 
directly to God about recognizing that we’ve all fallen short of the 
mark. But none of this goes on without the promise of reconciliation.

	The comment in the Gospel passage read today has been confusing to 
some. How come Jesus is reported to have talked about not disfiguring 
our faces and so on, and then, not five minutes later, we come to the 
altar rail and have ashes smeared on us? The point is that this is one 
of the most personal services of the church year. We’re addressed as 
individuals, not so that other folk will notice and pay attention. The 
only people involved here are God and you – God and me.. We take 
responsibility for our speech and actions as individuals. And in all of 
this we note that what we do, what we say, how we behave reflects beyond 
ourselves to the life of the community – whether it be a family, or a 
faith congregation, or a civil community.

	We recognise that sometimes things DO break down, and have to be set 
aside. But no matter where we are and where we go, we’re encouraged to 
remember that we live in the light so that we can set the darkness 
behind us. And once we set that darkness behind us, then we can live 
without fear.

	Note that I didn’t say that we could live without trouble, or 
challenge. Just without fear.

	An author wrote in the introduction to his book, “When I was younger, I 
had a Bible thrown at my head during a Sunday school class for asking 
too many questions. Granted, I was probably even more provocative than 
your average adolescent, but I really did have a lot of legitimate 
questions about God, my faith, Jesus and the Bible.

	“The message I got at the time was that church isn't the place for such 
questions.
	“Seriously? If we can't ask the tough, keep-you-awake-at-night 
questions within our faith communities, then what good are they?
	“I left organized religion behind for about ten years, (he wrote) until 
I found a place where my questions not only would be heard and 
tolerated, but also respected and wrestled with questions.” 1

	If we didn’t have some sort of an idea that it would be good to be here 
today – some people might say that it was the Spirit speaking to us and 
encouraging us – if we didn’t feel that we’d be welcomed, with all of 
our questions, and our doubts, and perhaps more than a few thoughts 
about failure – if we didn’t sense, somehow, that we’d be welcomed just 
as you and I are, then I doubt if we’d all be here.

	But we ARE all here. And we’re willing to give things – to give God – 
another chance, because deep within us we’re open to the possibility 
that we CAN be renewed.

	T.S. Eliot wrote a marvelous poem entitled “Ash Wednesday” “which is 
the first long poem written by (the poet) after his 1927 conversion to 
Anglicanism. Published in 1930, it deals with the struggle that ensues 
when one who has lacked faith acquires it. Sometimes referred to as 
Eliot's ‘conversion poem,’ it is richly but ambiguously allusive, and 
deals with the aspiration to move from spiritual barrenness to hope for 
human salvation.” 2

	It begins:
	Because I do not hope to turn again
	Because I do not hope
	Because I do not hope to turn” 3

	You can sense the ambiguity in these first three lines. Yet Eliot goes 
on to show how his willingness to refuse to stop asking questions – of 
God, of congregations and communities, AND of himself – because he was 
willing to ask, and actually found a church family that would ALLOW him 
to ask these questions – ultimately found God who gave him permission to 
ask questions – because Eliot continued to ask questions. He ends up the 
story of his faith journey with the verse:
	Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit
		of the garden,
	Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
	Teach us to care and not to care
	Teach us to sit still
	Even among these rocks,
	Our peace in His will
	And even among these rocks
	Sister, mother
	And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
	Suffer me not to be separated

	And let my cry come unto Thee.

	Obviously, the journey isn’t over as he concludes the poem. Nor are his 
questions gone. But he knows where he can go to ask. He knows where he 
will not be mocked. He knows where he will be accepted – by God; by his 
faith family, and by himself.

	We are here – I hope – because we know above all that we’re loved, no 
matter what.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, in “The Brothers Karamazov” wrote, “At some thoughts 
one stands perplexed, above all at the sight of human sin, and wonders 
whether to combat it by force or by humble love. Always decide ‘I will 
combat it by humble love.’ If you resolve on that once and for all, you 
can conquer the whole world. Loving humility is a terrible force: it is 
the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it.” 4

THAT’S why we’re here – ashes and all! Because we find love in the 
strangest places, such a love the drives away all the darkness of our 
lives.

[ editor - I think we’ll sing:

Hymn 487

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
such a way as gives us breath;
such a truth as ends all strife;
such a life as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
such a light as shows a feast;
such a feast as mends in length;
such a strength as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
such a joy as none can move;
such a love as none can part;
such a heart as joys in love.

Text: George Herbert
Music: Ralph Vaughan Williams

NOTES:

1	 
http://www.amazon.com/Banned-Questions-about-Bible-Christian/dp/0827202466
  and 
http://www.amazon.com/Banned-Questions-About-Jesus-Christian/dp/0827202695
2	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T._S._Eliot
3                  “Ash Wednesday” T.S. Eliot 
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/tseliot/372
4	Fyodor Dostoyevsky, from The Brothers Karamazov via Sojourners



Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)