Joel 2: 12-18
2 Corinthians 5: 20-6: 2
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
A Presbyterian minister friend of mine is amused at the Catholic custom of wearing ashes at the beginning of Lent. Familiar with our readings because we share a common Lectionary, he quotes the Gospel. “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people might see them.” “Yet there you are,” he says, “walking around with black smudges on your foreheads.”
I smile and quote King Mongut of Siam, from The King and I. “Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself.”
We wear ashes, in part, as a public expression of our faith beyond the church walls but also, and more importantly, as a message to ourselves. We are God’s creation, formed through God’s love and we entrust ourselves eternally to God’s care.
Lent is a season in which we are invited to review our lives and engage in practices that will allow us to grow closer to Christ and follow him more nearly on the path of discipleship. Today’s scriptures aim to get us started.
The reading from the prophet Joel commands that we open our hearts, that all people, no matter what stage they are in their lives fast and turn to God in prayer. The Gospel mentions the three pillars of Lenten discipline: prayer, fasting and almsgiving but also asks that we engage in these practices discreetly and not for public show and recognition.
I was wondering, as I prayed with these scriptures if it might be time to re-imagine how one fulfills this call. Must these practices be penitential, or could they be formative?
Almsgiving, donating money that we might have spent on a treat for ourselves is a good thing and as parish life director I would never discourage donations but maybe the dimensions of this practice could be expanded.
What if the alms, the sacrificial gift were generosity of spirit, giving someone the benefit of the doubt or listening in Christian charity to a tedious colleague or neighbor.
What if, instead of revisiting standard forms of prayer that may have grown stale and fruitless we look for moments throughout the day to lift our minds and hearts to God: offering words of gratitude for a stunning sunrise or sunset; appreciating folding clothes or washing dishes as a contemplative moment and whispering a simple refrain, "Jesus, have mercy," or “Jesus, I love you,” as we complete the task. Perhaps prayer could be just silent listening (set a timer for three minutes.) What if we gave God an opportunity to do the talking?
The third traditional aspect of Lenten discipline is fasting. Today and Good Friday we commit to eat only two small meals and one larger meal with no eating in between. That is not a lot to ask especially when compared to other faith traditions who eat nothing between sunrise and sunset. On Fridays, we abstain from meat. With the array of foods we are blessed to have available to us, everything from macaroni and cheese to lobster qualify, this is not a heavy lift. For vegetarians, it is just another day.
Maybe our fasting could be less food oriented and more situated in behavioral choices. We could fast from substances that are harmful to us; from actions that cripple our spirits: bitterness, anger, criticism, envy, second-guessing another’s intentions or our own abilities or compulsively web-surfing. I think we all know what things there are in our lives that we could well do without. There are many ways to fast.
St. Paul, in the Second Letter to the Corinthians reminded us that we are “ambassadors for Christ;” we represent Christ, spreading his presence, his love wherever we are. As we walk through this holy season may we be conscious of individual moments as opportunities to fulfill that call, to make choices that will be beneficial to others and ourselves.
The prophet Micah asked, “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow before God on high?... [God] has told you, O mortal what is good and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (6: 6, 8)