Ash Wednesday Reflection

This is the outline of the sermon I shared today, Ash Wednesday. As one might expect, this outline does not contain exactly the words that were spoken, but it's pretty close.

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So, we’ve come to this time of the church year once again
when we’re invited to remember our mortality

Some of you may remember, or know,
that I enjoy Instagram
that photo-sharing social medium
but I use Instagram not so much as a social media platform
not so much to connect with friends
instead, I use it to see beauty
I follow people who post photo journalism
remarkable poetry
and especially, people who post beautiful photos of things outside

so, I follow people who are much better skiers, mountaineers, cyclists, and poets
than I am or ever will be

One of these people I follow, Amanda Batty,
posted something yesterday
that gets to the heart of the message of Ash Wednesday
this idea that you are dust, and you shall return to dust

the deal is, Amanda Batty is a mountain bike racer
and a little over seven months ago, she crashed really hard
and as I understand it, had to have her foot reconstructed
she’s only just in the past week or so gotten back on a bike

she wrote the following (which I’ve edited for content and for language)


***
I hate feeling vulnerable. I always have. I hate feeling out of control and I hate feeling slow.
I hate feeling broken and less than 100% capable and strong, and it makes me mad
because I still have this absurd mental and emotional attachment to being
superhuman,
to being unbreakable ... To being immortal
[It’s hard to] realize that I’m not exceptional or special or different —
just like everyone else, I too break and scar and will eventually die
[someone told her] “You’re quick to be defensive
because you think people see what you aren’t anymore.”
***


here’s the thing
Amanda Batty realized the thing that's true about each one of us
we live an embodied life
life in a body that's beautiful, and resilient, and also fragile

we are created from the dust of the earth
molded and shaped by our creator
who looks at us and proclaims us good

but still, as many of you know, sometimes we break
and need to take time to heal
sometimes it seems like different parts wear out
(many of you know, it’s happening to me … I’m learning how to need to wear glasses)
sometimes we experience betrayal through our bodies
and we realize that what we had once been able to do
we likely won’t ever again

and make no mistake
these betrayals that we experience in our bodies
they’re different from physical death only in degree
the few dozen sprained ankles I endured
while not crippling, still I experienced a little death
because I thought I was kept from fullness of life
the learning how to remember to bring glasses along
while not catastrophic, still I experience a little death
because I can’t quite see like I once did

but it’s not just our physicality
also, we experience death in the emotional and psychological and spiritual aspects of our life
consider when someone beloved to you is sick or injured
that’s a little death you experience, even as your beloved does as well

whether it’s a stroke or a scratch
a heartbreak or a bad haircut
death, in varying degrees, surrounds us

and then, after all the little deaths
eventually, someday, we’ll just die
our bodies will quit working
it’s humbling
realizing that though we are created good by our God
still we’re not invincible, we’re not immortal
we will die
every single one of us
you are dust, and to dust you shall return

yet, though we shall indeed die,
the promise Christ embodies for us
is the promise that death does not have the final word
that Christ entered into our life and our death,
and has defeated any power death has over us

Oh, death, where is your sting?
Oh, grave, where is your victory? Paul writes

so we begin this season of Lent
acknowledging our mortality
anticipating the promise that we’ll celebrate as the church at Easter
that on the other side of death, God promises us new life

In the name of Christ our Savior. Amen. 

Ash Wednesday

What follows is the text which I shared during Ash Wednesday worship this year. What came out of my mouth was not exactly what you see, and what came into the ears of the hearers was even more vastly different ... such is the nature of homilies/sermons, that G-d's Holy Spirit works in the space between speaking and hearing. 

***

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God,
      and from our Savior Jesus the Christ. Amen
 Today, in stark ways, we’re reminded of our mortality – ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
      As we collect ourselves together as community, we’re reminded that none of us,
            not one,
      will escape that return to dust.
 Those who are older,
            and those who are sick in significant ways
      will likely return to dust sooner than the young and healthy.
But even that’s not always the case –
      we all probably know of young and healthy people
            who well before they should have.
 The truth is that, no matter who we are,
      each of us even in this moment is approaching the ashes,
            the ‘ashes to ashes’ ashes,
                  and also the ashes here in worship
      and we approach ashes together –
            old and the young together;
            ill and the well together;
            parents and children together.
 The mark on our forehead, which we’ll receive in a few moments,
       serves as a stark reminder that the wages of sin is death –
            we are dust, and to dust we shall return.
      And at the same time,
            the dusty mark on our forehead that we’ll receive
                  traces the seal of the Holy Spirit,
                        which always is there on our forehead, ever a reminder of our baptism.
 So we approach the ashes today, and we approach our God,
            claiming the promise of our baptism;
 and we approach our God echoing the psalmist:
      Have mercy, O God,
            according to your steadfast love,
            your abundant mercy
      we know we transgress and trespass
            sin, and fall short of God’s glory
 Today we’ll approach this altar twice
      once, to be reminded of our mortality
            our sin, our brokenness and our need for God’s mercy
 and a second time to receive into our very bodies
      the promise of wholeness
            and of forgiveness & mercy
                  and of new life
 Blessings to you, and to all of us, as we enter this holy season.
      May we encounter God in new and surprising places and ways.
 In the name of Christ. Amen

Ash Wednesday Homiletical Reflections

Bearing in mind the truth that sermons are spoken events, a holy interaction between preacher and congregation that is mitigated by Holy Spirit, I post the text that I used for the Ash Wednesday homily at the congregation I serve. 

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, and from our Savior Jesus the Christ. Amen

Remember, you are dust

these are the words we’ll hear in a little bit

when ashes are traced on our forehead

these ashes are a reminder for us who are healthy that life doesn’t last forever

a reminder to the old and the ill that death may be approaching very soon

a reminder for the youngest in our midst

that though there are many years to look forward to,

the vitality of life now is not guaranteed forever

so we trace ashes on our forehead

a reminder of our mortality

a reminder that life is fragile, tenuous

to be blown away, scattered as in the wind, as dry and dusty ashes from a campfire

remember, you are dust

my friend* has pointed out that dust is everywhere

that it does a fine job of settling on stationary things,

collecting in rarely ventured places

making its presence known only when a film develops

but, he points out,

did you ever notice how when the light streams through the window just the right way

endless particles of dust are made visible?

Always we are walking, breathing, living in the dust.

he concludes with a reminder that God does some pretty cool stuff with dust

Remember, you are dust

and when the light shines in the right way,

when the light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it

there is beauty even in dust

In the beginning, God fashioned and shaped the dust

breathed into the dust’s lungs

and created life,

life, in which God continues to take delight

God takes delight in life

which, as we are reminded today, will end

but which, as we are reminded in the waters of our baptism

is made new every day by our God, the author and giver of all life

this ash that we receive on our foreheads in just a moment

it’s not simply ash

there is oil mixed in it

(though I must issue the disclaimer that some pastors don’t mix oil in the ash they use)

I do, though … and this oil, mixed in the ash

will be traced onto the same place as the oil used in baptism …

traced in the same place where the cross was traced, perhaps in oil,

when we were sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.

The oil helps the ash to stick better to our faces

a more long-lasting reminder that we are dust, and we will return to dust

and at the same time, a reminder that underlying the truth of our mortality

is the bigger truth that in God we are given life,

and only by God’s grace and mercy

we have received the gift of new life

Remember, you are dust

mortal, fragile, temporary

remember, you are dust,

and to dust you shall return

remember, we are dust

filled with breath, spirit, life

by our God, who from lifeless dust

creates beauty, and eternally creates new life

remember, we are dust,

and to Christ we shall return.

Amen.

 
* the person I refer to is the Rev. Christian Nisonger, whose Facebook posting I used as a template for the thought and language of this section of the sermon text. 

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