Why Are We Here?

Why are we here? What are we doing here? Why all of a sudden have all the paraments and my vestments changed from green to purple? Where are the altar flowers? Why did we enter in silence? And why are we engaging in this ancient liturgy of taking on ashes? Have we suddenly heard Jonah’s call to the Ninevites and decided to copy their response?

Perhaps we have done just that. The donning of sackcloth and ashes by the Ninevites is only one of many examples in the Old Testament of collective rituals of prayer, fasting, repentance, and the use of ashes. Indeed, Daniel Clendinen reminds us that in some ways Ash Wednesday is akin to Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement.1 Still today, even those who do not regularly attend synagogue services hear the call to join the “solemn assembly,” confess their offenses against God, and express their hope to be inscribed in the Book of Life for another year. For us Christians too, Ash Wednesday is day of “solemn assembly,” a day of special prayer. But for us, Ash Wednesday is also the beginning of Easter. For the earliest Christians, as we will hear shortly, Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of the intensive preparation for Easter that newcomers to the faith observed. For us too, Ash Wednesday marks our first step on the road that leads us to Jerusalem, the Cross and the Empty Tomb.

Like the ancient Hebrews and the early Christians, we begin our preparation for the remembrance of Jesus’ death and resurrection with a poignant reminder that we too must undergo death. All of today’s readings speak in one way or another of our mortality, but our psalm most particularly reminds us of who we are in God’s sight: “For he himself knows whereof we are made;/ he remembers that we are but dust. Our days are like the grass….” And why do we come here to hear this reminder? Because it is the truth. Despite all the “age-defying” cosmetics that American manufacturers serve up, all the promises of immortality, all our attempts to hide death, we know that “we flourish like a flower of the field” that is scattered by a puff of wind. We know that our lives are uncertain, that no one of us knows how much time we have left, and that apart from God we have nothing. We know, or we are reminded yet again, that “to dust” we shall indeed return. Are we ready to hear that reminder? As a Lenten discipline, consider meditating on this question: how would I live my life if I knew that Easter Sunday would be my last day on earth?

Important as it is, the reminder of our mortality is never God’s last word to us. We also hear today the loud call to repentance and fasting, to acknowledging the ways in which we fall short of God’s expectations. But we do not repent without hope. There is good news here. We do not cringe before an angry vengeful God ready to strike us down for the slightest provocation. We do not expect to be cast into hell for deviations, great or small, from God’s law. We know that we are preparing for Easter. And so, we hear again that, although God cares deeply for justice, God’s nature is one of mercy and love. We hear that, although we cannot save ourselves, God is always ready to rescue, heal, and save us. The psalmist reminds us that: “The Lord is full of compassion and mercy/ slow to anger and of great kindness…. For as the heavens are high above the earth,/ so is his mercy great upon those who fear him.” The prophet Joel repeats that refrain. “Return to the Lord, your God,” he exhorts us, “for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love….” Joel also reminds us, that what God really desires of us is change of heart, transformation. “Rend your hearts and not your clothing,” he commands us. Don’t just make a show of taking part in rites and rituals. Don’t take God’s mercy for granted. Deeply commit yourself to God. Most important, let God continue to change you into the people God created you to be.

Finally, we prepare for Easter by acknowledging once again that we are members of a Body, that we are deeply bound to one another. As we hear in the call of the prophet Joel, all the people are to be gathered into a “solemn assembly.” No one is exempted, not newlyweds, not the elderly, not even babes in arms. St. Paul similarly called the entire Christian community in Corinth to be reconciled to God, so that as a community they might reflect Christ’s saving power to the world around them. We too are members of one another, and what we do on this day, or any other day in the church, we do together. Our repentance and our salvation is never a private affair. Our repentance and renewal is always corporate. Jesus did not die to save me. He was crucified under Pontius Pilate for us and our salvation. Because our repentance and renewal are corporate, because we are members one of another, we are not dependent solely on our own spiritual resources. Lent calls us to uphold and support one another, to encourage each other in Christian formation and transformation, to relearn and deepen our faith and practice together, and to build up our common life in this place.

To help us to remember our mortality, deepen our faith, and strengthen the bonds among us, the church offers us Lent as a time for simplifying our lives through fasting and abstinence, engaging in more intentional corporate and private prayer, serving others, studying our faith and history, and acknowledging our shortcomings. We might think of Lent as a time for the whole church to be on retreat, so that we might take stock of who and where we are, lay aside our own self-preoccupation, and ponder how we can more truly love God and our neighbors. Keeping a good Lent ultimately means drawing closer to God and one another, preparing ourselves once again for the renewal of our baptismal covenant, and looking with hope toward our celebration of the mystery of Jesus’ redeeming death and resurrection.

As we start down the road that leads us to Jerusalem, we do so trusting that we are already saved and deeply loved. Frail and mortal as we are, sinful and ungrateful as we are, isolated and mistrustful of each other as we are, we still trust in the glory that awaits us. In his wonderful sermon for Easter, fourth century bishop and preacher John Chysostom will invite us all to the feast, no matter how well we have kept Lent:

Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord!
First and last alike receive your reward;
rich and poor, rejoice together!
Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!

You that have kept the fast, and you that have not,
rejoice today for the Table is richly laden!

I wish us all a holy and blessed Lent, and I look ahead with hope to a joyful celebration of Christ’s glorious resurrection.

1. “A Day of Ashes and Rituals of Renewal,” Journey with Jesus, accessed on Feb. 20, 2012 at http://www.journeywithjesus.net