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This year Ash Wednesday falls between holidays of a different kind:
Mardi Gras, yesterday, and Valentine’s Day, tomorrow. These two
occasions receive a whole lot more attention and commercial
promotion in our culture: You hear a lot about Mardi Gras parties
and festivities. Everywhere you look you are reminded to remember
your Valentine. You won’t see any Ash Wednesday greeting cards or
promotions. Ash Wednesday is one Christian tradition that the
culture has no interest in co-opting. Truth is, most of us would
prefer to be celebrating Mardi Gras or Valentine’s Day. It’s our
nature. We’re drawn more to things cheerful & upbeat than to things
solemn and somber. Hearts are more fun than ashes. Valentine’s Day
and Mardi Gras are festive & happy occasions. They’re all about fun
and romance and playfulness and good times, eating and drinking,
enjoyment.
All of which are good, by the way. Contrary to some narrow
understandings, the Christian faith is not opposed to people
enjoying themselves, laughing, loving, letting their hair down,
having a good time. God is not a sourpuss or a wallflower.
Christianity does not aim to stamp out romance, parties or anything
else that smacks of fun and enjoyment. Instead, the Christian faith
calls us to live in and observe all the seasons of life. For
everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under
heaven. There is a time to dance and make merry, and also a time to
mourn. There is a time for embracing and celebrating, and also a
time to refrain from embracing. A time for carefree exuberance, and
a time for sober reflection.
Valentine’s Day invites us to remember love and romance—and
especially to remember and appreciate the ones we love most. This is
right and good to do! Ash Wednesday also calls us to remember—but to
remember something quite different. The ashes on our foreheads this
evening call us to remember we are dust, and that to dust we shall
return. Ash Wednesday is a start reminder of our mortality. It
reminds us directly of an awesome reality—we are all terminal.
On September 11, the atmosphere in Manhattan was filled with
ashes, and as a nation we were made grimly and profoundly aware of
our human vulnerability and mortality. On that day people were quite
literally marked with ashes, covered by the falling soot of the
devastated World Trade Towers. All of lower Manhattan was blanketed
with a layer of ashes. On September 11, there was no avoiding or
denying the disturbing realities of sin and death. We witnessed the
reality of human mortality. We experienced grief and sorrow and
dread.
And yet, being human, we somehow get past it and move on (as we
must). We have found ways to again include in our lives laughter and
rejoicing and love and celebrating—time to dance and make merry,
time even to be silly. We can and must move on, but we also need to
REMEMBER. And so we gather to hear the message of Ash Wednesday.
It’s a message not drowned out by the noisy revelry of Mardi Gras or
the romantic overtures of Valentine’s Day: “REMEMBER YOU ARE DUST,
AND TO DUST YOU WILL RETURN.” Memento mori—Remember Death. Remember
that the flower which blooms today will fade and soon be thrown
away. Remember, death comes not just to some, but to all. We are
born to die, some of us long before we think our time is due. In the
midst of life, remember death.
Why should we remember something as chilling and unpleasant as
our own death? There are many reasons. Consider a few:
a. Remember death because it’s the simple truth. Jesus said
knowing the truth will make us free. It’s not good to live a lie, to
live with an illusion, to live in denial. Better to remember death
than to pretend we are immortal or invulnerable.
b. Remember death because it is part of what makes life momentous
and beautiful and precious. Yes, the red roses of Valentine’s Day
will soon wither and die, but no silk rose will even approach the
beauty and fragrance and magnificence of that rose which dies. The
stuffed bird in museum is but a shadow of the living bird on the
wing. Humans are the only creatures who know they will die, and this
lends an urgency and a poignancy and a value to each day we live.
Remember death so that you appreciate the wonder and goodness of
life.
c. Remember death so that you do not squander life, so that you
do not postpone real living. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one.
Remember death so you get your life in order. Life isn’t like that
wonderful moving, “Groundhog Day,” where Bill Murray keeps living
the same day over and over until he gets it right. This life is not
a dress rehearsal. We don’t have forever to get it right, to grow
up, to make amends, to repent, to become wise, to love the ones who
need our love. Death says, “Carpe Diem! Seize the day!”
d. Remember death, because the seed of our mortality is our own
sinfulness. Remember the direct link between our moral fallibility
and our terminal condition. The wages of sin is death. We have
brought death on ourselves by denying God, resisting God, by defying
God, by wanting to be God, by failing to love and trust God, by
failing to love the world and the people God created. Remember death
so you see yourself as you truly are, not as you wish you were.
e. Remember death, because in this remembrance we remember our
need for God. Sin is a persistent problem that none of us can solve
(We are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves). And so we need
a Savior. Death is likewise and implacable dilemma. To know death is
to know your abiding need for God.
And so we have this day we call Ash Wednesday. And we receive
this vivid, tangible reminder of our own sin and mortality. We have
much that is good to remember and to celebrated. Yet we also need to
remember that we are dust, and to dust we will return. So, don’t try
to avoid it or deny it-remember death, and teach those you love to
remember. It is a solemn and awesome remembrance—but it doesn’t have
to be paralyzing or disabling, because we are not the only ones who
remember…
God also remembers. Psalm 51 is the appointed psalm for Ash
Wednesday, and rightly so. Psalm 51 speaks frankly of our
sinfulness, wickedness, iniquity and mortality. Psalm 51 assures us
that we truly are “dusty people.” There is another psalm, Psalm 103,
which we need to hear today, “As a father cares for his children, so
does the Lord care for those who fear him. For he himself knows
whereof we are made, HE REMEMBERS THAT WE ARE BUT DUST. We may be
dust, but we are made in God’s image, and God neither forgets nor
forsakes us. Remember that!. Psalm 103 continues:
“Our days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the
field;
When the wind goes over it, it is gone,
And its place shall know it no more.
But the merciful goodness of the Lord endures forever…”
Today, remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.
Remember the reality of your very own sin and death. And today also
remember God. Remember the God who created you, who walks with you
through all your dusty peaks and valleys, who will be with you when
death draws near, who will finally lead you to a place where sin and
death and ashes are no more.
Remember how much you depend on your good and loving God, so that
you remember to stay close.
Amen.
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