Crosses of Ash: One of the Most Life-Giving Things We Can Do
Ash Wednesday
Isaiah 58.1-12; 2 Corinthians
5.20b—6.10; Matthew 6.1-6, 16-21
St. Gregory’s, Long Beach
What we do on this
day is perhaps one of the most honest things we can do in our life of faith. It
is also one of the most life-giving things we can do. Why is that? It’s all in
the ashes.
As I thought about
how I was going to preach Ash Wednesday this year, I thought about the varied
themes of the day. There are, of course, ashes. And then there is the Gospel
reading, with Jesus talking about various practices of piety. Namely, giving
alms, prayer, and fasting. The three disciplines that have come to be associated
with Lent. In the past, my Ash Wednesday sermons have always focused on these
Lenten disciplines. But this year, I was pulled in a different direction. To
ashes and just what they symbolize.
While our primary
image of the day is ashes, none of our readings focus on ashes. The only
reference is in our Old Testament reading from Isaiah, which contains precisely
one mention of ashes. In God questioning the people about the purpose of
fasting, he asks, “Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in
sackcloth and ashes?” (Is 58.5b). For the ancient Israelites, donning sackcloth
and sitting in ashes was a mourning ritual associated with fasting. The ashes
were a sign of grief and of repentance. Sitting in ashes was a sign of disgrace
and humiliation. Debasing oneself as a recognition of falling short and as an
expression of the desire for repentance. The desire to turn around and do
better.
As for our own
traditions, the ritual of sprinkling ashes over the head or making the sign of
the cross in ashes on the forehead with the words “Remember that you are dust,
and to dust you shall return” is an ancient custom credited to Pope Gregory the
Great. Yes, the Gregory for which our parish is named. The words “Remember that
you are dust, and to dust you shall return” are based on the words God spoke to
Adam and Eve after their fall, and are meant to serve as a reminder to us of
our sinfulness and mortality. These words and the accompanying action of
placing ashes on our forehead contain an implicit reminder of our need to
repent. And also contain an implicit hope and promise of the salvation and
eternal life that were obtained on our behalf through Christ’s death on the
cross.
It is the themes of
sin and death that capture my imagination on this Ash Wednesday. But even more
so, it is the image of ash crosses in which I find particular meaning this
year. Now, admittedly, in our 21st century American culture, we
don’t like to think about sin or death. The prevailing image our culture seeks
to convey is that we are perfect—or that we can become perfect—and that we will
live forever. If not in actuality, that we can live on through our legacy—our
children, our estate, our good works. Or at least, those are the hopes, even
though we know these are illusions. Or maybe, delusions. So we try to pretend
that sin doesn’t exist. Or if it does, it is something others struggle with,
not us. And as for death, we just prefer not to talk about it. Yet we know in
our heart of hearts that we are sinful, mortal beings. So that’s where ash
crosses come in. It is this image that seeks to redeem the sinfulness and
mortality that we so adamantly seek to deny.
The crosses of ash
that we place on our foreheads are indeed one of the most honest things we can
do as Christians. Marking our foreheads with ash, we acknowledge that we will
indeed die and will return to dust. Crosses of ash are a visible reminder and
acknowledgement of our own mortality. But at the same time, it is through the
cross of Christ, symbolized by the cross of ash, that we are promised true and
eternal life. A cross of ash placed on our forehead this day is a trace, a
shadow, of the life-giving cross that is marked on our foreheads at baptism
with the words “you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as
Christ’s own for ever.” While we journey through Lent on our quest to repent
and return to God, we are reminded by the cross of ash that we have already
been reconciled to God through Christ. That through the cross of Christ, sin
and death no longer have dominion over us.
In her book, A Simple Path, Mother Teresa writes:
“Dying is not the end, it is just the beginning. Death is a continuation of
life. This is the meaning of eternal life; it is where our soul goes to God, to
be in the presence of God, to see God, to speak to God, to continue loving him
with greater love. We only surrender our body in death – our heart and our soul
live forever. Yesterday is gone and tomorrow has not yet come; we must live
each day as if it were our last so that when God calls us we are ready, and
prepared, to die with a clean heart.” This is the intention behind the ash
crosses we place on our foreheads this day.
The ash cross is,
therefore, also a reminder of how we are to live between now and the time of
our death. The ash cross calls us to have a new perspective on how we live our
life in light of the death we will one day experience. In light of the cross
that is placed on our forehead as a reminder of who we are and whose we are.
Those crosses of ash are nothing short of a branding. In ranching, branding is
a method of proving ownership or origin of an animal—who they belong to. So,
too, we are branded with the sign of the cross, both at baptism and every Ash
Wednesday, to indicate who we belong to.
In our Gospel reading
from Matthew, Jesus talks about our acts of piety. Through these Jesus seeks to
convey the radical life changes that are called forth in the kingdom of God.
The kingdom we live in even now, by virtue of submitting to having the cross
placed on our heads—in oil at baptism and in ash on Ash Wednesday.
The Lenten
disciplines of praying, fasting, and giving alms all symbolize a turning away
from self-indulgence and turning toward caring for our neighbor and relying on
God. An attitude that we often refer to as “dying to self.” A metaphorical
death that is also represented by the cross of ash. Such Lenten disciplines as
prayer, fasting, and giving of alms open us up to God and to our neighbor. Acts
that bring us into closer relationship with God and one another. This is what
Paul is talking about in our Epistle reading from 2 Corinthians,
where he urges the Corinthians to accept and live within the new relationship
with God that has been made available through Christ—particularly through his
death on the cross.
The cross of ash is
a mark indicating our confession of sinfulness, our sorrow at how we have
fallen short, our desire for repentance, and our desire to turn back to God.
The cross of ash is our recognition of our own mortality, and the hope and promise
of salvation through the cross of Christ. The cross of ash is also liberating.
It is a sign of our acceptance of who we are and our need to rely on God. It is
a sign of putting ourselves in God’s hands. Only then can God truly work to
transform us into the fullness of who we were created to be as his beloved
children.
Ash Wednesday ushers
in our forty-day period of prayer, fasting, and giving of alms, with a call to
repentance, anticipating the certain hope of salvation. Actions that are an
outward sign of our intention to turn around and back toward God. We mark this
day, this intention, with crosses of ash, as a sign of who we are and whose we
are. As an acknowledgment of both our sinfulness and the reality of our death.
As acknowledgement of the hope and promise of salvation and eternal life that
are procured for us through another cross—the cross of Christ. And as a promise
to repent and turn back toward the life-giving ways of God.
Those crosses of ash
that we humbly take upon ourselves are our response to Paul’s injunction: “We
entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5.20b). To live
into the full meaning of the cross of Christ as symbolized by the cross of ash
placed on our heads. That is certainly one of the most life-giving things we
could possibly do. And living into that symbol, through our Lenten journey and
beyond, is even more life-giving.
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