This was my last day of serving as supply at St. Luke's Church. I thought I would publish on the blog my sermon for today. This is a thematic sermon, rather than a scriptural one. I wanted to reflect on the season of Lent primarily because we had to cancel both Ash Wednesday and Lent 2. If you do go on to read this, just keep in mind that the writing is written to be spoken. Therefore, some things may be elaborated on more by me when I preach, rather than when I write.
"Remember that You are Dust and to Dust You Shall Return."Lent is my favorite liturgical season.
It really is.
But, this year I feel like we’ve gotten gypped.
Ever since I can remember Ash Wednesday, I have never missed a service.
I remember the humbling process of kneeling at the altar to receive those burned palms on my forehead.
As a teenager, I always felt conflicted about leaving them on my head or wiping them off. At that point in my life, I just didn’t want people to think I was weird walking around with a black smudge on my forehead.
But even then, I was aware that Jesus’ sacrifice made mine look quite trivial in comparison.
As a college student, I took to heart Jesus’ words, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them.” (Matt. 6)
So, it made it pretty easy for me to smear those ashes off my forehead as soon as the service was over.
There was no way I was going to be a hypocrite!
(You know how college students are: working tirelessly to not be the hypocrites that the rest of the world is.)
When I became a priest and had the humbling honor of placing ashes on other people’s foreheads, I continued to rethink leaving the ashes on my own head.
I finally decided to leave them there.
As Christianity continues to be overshadowed by secular culture, wearing that outward mark is a visible sign that we Christians do have something to say and offer in the public arena.
“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
Yes, the reality is that while we are loved and cherished by God, we are just not all that important.
All of our lives will end.
All of our works will someday be lost.
And we will go to the grave.
Lent is that time which is a preparation for the hopeful reminder that we are but dust.
Lent is a mystical time for many of us.
For me, it is a process by which I try to hunker down with God in a different way than I do for the rest of the liturgical year.
It is a time when God and I do the equivalent of pre-marital preparation, except that we do it every year.
It is a check-up and a tune-up and a tune-in—all in one.
For me, it is a time of following God with a few more rules and promises.
In many ways, I feel that during Lent I am more in touch with the ancient practices of Judaism—and I like that.
You see, Jesus said, “I came to fulfill the Law, but not to abolish the Law.”
When I took a class on Judaism in Seminary, I always marveled at how clear life was for Orthodox—or even Conservative Jews.
You knew the rules on the Sabbath—no riding in cars or pushing buttons on elevators because that is work.
You knew that if you were a man you would put on a prayer shawl each morning and strap on phylacteries and pray the psalmist prayers that have been prayed for centuries. You knew the right way to pray and the order in which one should pray.
You knew the rules for eating.
Keep a kosher diet.
Don’t let dairy and meat mix.
Certainly no Big Macs with cheese.
No bacon and sausage.
And no shellfish.
All of these clearly delineated rules appealed to me as ways of honoring God.
And certainly they were less confusing than some of Jesus’ statements…
“I am the living bread that comes down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread shall not die but shall live forever I am the bread of life those who come to me shall not hunger those who believe in me shall have eternal life….”
Leave it to John’s gospel to provide Jesus with some really cryptic sayings.
Not good old clear rules, like don’t eat lobster.
Instead we get literal bread and metaphorical bread and we don’t always know what to do with either.
Ah, but I digress.
One of the simple habits that I have taken up during Lent is to eat vegetarian.
Now I’m not someone who eats a lot of meat, but I do love a good hamburger or steak.
I choose to eat vegetarian for a very simple reason.
I like one of my devotions during Lent to be very concrete.
Avoiding eating meat is a physical thing.
So, during Lent we cook lots of soups, and make vegetable lasagnas and struggle to get our protein in hummus and cheese.
There is something quite meaningful for me to have to remember God every time we do a grocery list and every time we go out to eat.
As my eye scans down a whole menu until I find the eggplant sandwich, I am reminded that it is Lent.
And it doesn’t have to be high and mighty, just a quick recall that this is a different time of year with God.
I would add that this particular devotion makes Sundays during Lent the true feast day that they are meant to be!
On Sunday, we can eat eggs with bacon.
We often like to go out Sunday night and enjoy a juicy hamburger.
That is a physical reminder that the Lord’s Day is always a feast day.
We feast at the banquet of the Lord in the morning with bread and wine and we keep that feast for the rest of the day.
This practice helps explain why Sundays are in Lent, but they are not OF Lent.
I also believe that breaking our fast during Lent is a reminder that Lent is not an endurance test.
It is not about how strong our will is.
Can we hold out for that whole time?
If so, Lent becomes a marathon with us as the central actors, instead of a time of partnering with God.
I must confess that Lent is also a lesson in humility.
I have some other Lenten vows.
I’ve broken them either accidentally or willingly already –and we’re only half way through Lent.
I will share with you that I was at a birthday party for the kids the other day.
There were these nice pot stickers there.
I sat down and enjoyed a few.
I ate some rice, too, and some cabbage.
I didn’t even realize until I got home that I had eaten meat in those pot stickers.
It wasn’t even a moment of ambivalence or excuses or justifications, but rather absolute forgetfulness.
When I got home and realized what I did, I felt stupid.
But, I also felt relieved to know that I had just made a mistake and that God would graciously forgive me.
So, here we do sit half way through Lent.
I hope in some small way that God has claimed a unique spot in your life right now.
A spot that only you and God know needs God’s attention or yours.
I want to close with a story about Lent.
Back when I was a priest at a parish in Chicago, we would take the preschool children outside and burn the palm branches with them.
Usually it was a cold and wintry day and we would have a can of burning palms blowing in the wind.
The kids would stand back with their preschool teachers and marvel at those hot ashes and flames.
The next day, we would have the Ash Wednesday liturgy as a part of their preschool experience.
And we had these little tiny people at the rail.
I would have the privilege to mark their foreheads and say, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
The second year we did this, there was one little girl who was petrified of having the ashes placed on her forehead.
So, we certainly did not push it.
However, I later learned that she was scared because she thought the ashes would still be hot.
She remembered the burning from the day before and was afraid that she, too, would get burned if those ashes touched her forehead.
We are halfway through Lent. Where do you burn for God? Where does God burn for you? Remember that we are but dust and to dust we shall return.
