Today begins Lent, the church’s season of self-examination, prayer, and good works. We join now with millions of other Christians around the world to begin our forty-day journey to Easter. Shortly, I’ll impose ashes on your foreheads to remind us of our mortality, we’ll confess those things we too often do (or fail to do) in our everyday lives, and just generally strive to bring ourselves back to what’s important, to what, in the final hours of our lives we’ll say, That mattered.
I’m so glad you’re here.
I learned something new last week, and I have a new member to thank for this. She and her mother came to my office to talk about the differences between the Roman Catholic and Anglican Catholic (as I call us, b/c we’re all Catholic, all of the one universal faith tracing back to Jesus and the disciples); they came to talk about the differences between our two traditions.
Now, in the Episcopal Church (we’re Anglican Catholics), when we refer to people we only see a couple times a year, we call them “C&E” or “Christmas and Easter” Christians. I don’t say that disparagingly. You know I’m just happy to see people here, even if that’s once or twice a year. But it’s our shorthand for, you know, people we don’t see too much.
Well, at one point in our conversation in my office the mother referred to “Palms and Ashes” Christians, which is I guess what Roman Catholics call those very occasional visitors to church. They come for their palms (on Palm Sunday) and ashes (today, Ash Wednesday) -- two of the most solemn days of the church year!
I had to laugh. Episcopalians--Anglicans--we turn out for the Christmas carols and Easter baskets. Isn’t that so us? As you can see from attendance here this morning, it’s a little more of a struggle to convince you all to come out for your palms and ashes, nevermind making this one of your top two days of the year.
It says so much about us, and honestly, I love it. It’s a hard thing to live a life. We need to look for the joy where we can find it, and all of us know that at certain times in history and at certain times in our lives, joy becomes a duty. We have to sometimes will ourselves to find it, and to feel it.
I would argue that what we’re doing here tonight and for the next forty days is entirely consistent with our propensity for joy. For one, to observe Lent is to throw into contrast this season and what lies ahead, Easter. It’s to be able to see and truly experience the brightness of Easter and appreciate it like life depends on it, which it does. I guarantee that if you allow yourself to enter into these forty days, and then at the end, Holy Week, you will experience Easter’s joy in a far richer, more profound way.
But also, looked at a certain way (and more immediately), there’s deep joy that comes when we know we’re making that extra effort to live a life that’s purposeful, considerate, careful, not exploitative or thoughtless, mindful of a much bigger world and cosmos than what these 3 lbs sitting on top of our shoulders can comprehend.
Here’s a term I love from Evelyn Underhill, 20th century English mystic: having a rich spiritual life requires “Renunciation of a narrow horizon.” Just the thought of that brings me joy. As does the thought of knowing you’re trying to live a life in alignment with Christ’s teachings.
And if we have any “Palms and Ashes Christians” here, let me add: even our failure to live up to our Christian calling, which becomes so apparent when we actually devote ourselves to it, is occasion for joy. The joy then comes in knowing there’s grace enough - and that grace far greater than our mostly pathetic falls from it.
Yes, ashes signify mortality. Yes, today we are made fully aware that life is short and we’re going to die. Those well practiced in the spiritual life understand how to turn such awareness into a summons to life, and meaning, and deep down joy, and the assurance of grace, which steps up when we fail and makes all our strivings possible at all.
You know, speaking of Roman Catholics and Protestants, today just happens to be the feast day of Martin Luther, 16th century Reformer who inspired the Lutheran movement within Protestantism. Luther heavily influenced our Anglican tradition, too, with our emphasis on the vernacular, the education and participation of lay people in the life of the church, and so much else. Our tradition wouldn’t have evolved the way it did without him.
His best writings are those on grace. And so I’ll leave you with one of his more famous descriptions of it, and of Jesus. Luther wasn’t always the most mirthful man, but it seems entirely in the spirit of Lenten joy to leave us with the thought of God’s grace.
"Christ our Lord, to whom we must flee, and of whom we must ask all, is an inexhaustible well of grace". An inexhaustible well of grace. Hang onto that these next forty days, and you’ll do well, maybe even enjoy yourself. Amen.