Pondering Our Ashness - March 2
Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 32 and 143; PM Psalm 102, 130; Amos 5:6-15; 2 Corinthians 5:20b—6:10; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21
Today’s Reflection
The way of Ash Wednesday and of Lent, indeed our lifelong way as followers of Christ, is a way that is countercultural—not only running counter to the ways of the world, but even running counter to the ways in which we, as believers, are tempted to practice our faith. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus gives us a series of “do not… but” statements. First, Jesus gives us a negative picture of what “practicing your piety before others” can look like—piety gone wrong, if you will… what we should not do. And then, after each “do not” picture of piety gone wrong, Jesus gives us a picture of a better way, of piety gone right: “But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing… But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door … But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may not be seen by others … But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6).
And so, Ash Wednesday, and indeed every day of our life in Christ, is a study in paradoxes and incongruities. In Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, we hear this about Jesus: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5). And then we hear this about ourselves, those who follow Christ: “We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything” (2 Corinthians 6).
As Christians, we live a life of paradox. We are to be in the world, but not of it. We know that we are both sinful and yet fully saved from our sins. We are stuck, on the one hand, in the mud and muck of this fallen world—and yet we are also set free, like a kite or a banner, free to fly and wave in the wind, yet anchored by the security we have in Christ, so that we do not fly off into the atmosphere of our own inclinations. We may have moments of realization that we are drowning and dying in a sea of mistakes and regrets—and then we are brought back up to the surface, brought back to life, realizing the undying hope we have in Christ. We feel unknown, and yet can take comfort that in Christ we are fully known. We realize that while, at the end of the day, we may have nothing in the eyes of this world, in terms of status or wealth or other measures of success—and yet, in Christ (and all that has already been done for us through his incarnation and crucifixion and resurrection) we, in fact, already possess everything that is truly needful.
As we begin our observance of this Holy Season of Lent, I pray that each day we will be able to remember who we are in Christ: people who have nothing and yet possess everything. I leave you to reflect on this poem by Walter Brueggemann, “Marked by Ashes.” I pray we all may have a Holy Lent.
Becky+
Marked by Ashes
Walter Brueggemann
Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day — a gift from you.
This day — like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
halfway back to committees and memos,
halfway back to calls and appointments,
halfway on to next Sunday,
halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
half turned toward you, half rather not.
This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes —
we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:
of failed hope and broken promises,
of forgotten children and frightened women,
we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.
We are able to ponder our ashness with
some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes
anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.
On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you —
you Easter parade of newness.
Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;
Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.
Come here and Easter our Wednesday with
mercy and justice and peace and generosity.
We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.
From Walter Brueggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008).
Questions for Reflection
I wonder what Walter Brueggemann’s poem brings to mind for you when he writes of the “taste of ash in our mouth,” and of “ponder[ing] our ashness with some confidence.” I wonder what it means for us to “submit our ashen way” to God.
Daily Challenge
In this Season of Lent, consider taking on a Lenten practice beyond these Daily Reflection emails. The VCS Stations of the Cross consist of fourteen selected commentaries, each on reflecting on a biblical passage in dialogue with a work of art. Two Stations of the Cross will be posted on the VCS web site or sent out through their Station of the Cross email list each week beginning today and running through Good Friday.