Due to a snowstorm, we postponed our Ash Wednesday service this year by a week. Also, much of this sermon is a repeat of my 2017 Ash Wednesday sermon, when we did this same theme in Greene for midweek services. This series comes from Feasting on the Word: Lenten Companion, calling it “A Fast that Matters.” Portions of this sermon are based on the outline provided in the book. The texts for Ash Wednesday are Psalm 51 and Isaiah 58:1-12.
Here’s the sermon audio and video from our joint Ash Wednesday worship service at Living Hope.
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Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen
Almost nine years ago when I was in a seminary preaching class, I was assigned to give a practice funeral sermon. I was given a sample obituary, a scenario of someone who had died, and I wrote and preached to my class what I thought was a perfectly fine funeral sermon.
When I finished, my professor’s feedback was that my theology was solid and my speaking was ok, but clearly, I had not been to many funerals, which at that point was true.
Part of what I talked about in that practice sermon was that funerals stir up the fear of death for those who attend, because they remind us that we ourselves are going to die.
I counted and I believe I’ve preached 70 funeral sermons since then. I understand better now what Dr. Giere meant.
Funerals are reminders of death, but they’re not usually as sad and scary as I thought. Funerals are about mourning, but they’re also about celebrating the life of the person who died, especially when it’s been a long, full life.
But I stand by part of that practice funeral sermon. It is rarely a pleasant experience to be reminded of our own mortality, to be reminded that someday our earthly lives will come to an end.
Tonight for Ash Wednesday, that’s exactly what we’re doing. We’re here to engage in what might be the strangest, most counter-cultural ritual we do in church, to have ashes put on our foreheads and be told, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
This is not a popular message. Our culture doesn’t like the idea of death. Death is something we can’t control. We live in a culture that says it’s all about me, that says the purpose of life is to live forever. Ash Wednesday claims the opposite.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
The church is supposed to be about the Gospel, the good news, right? People come to church for hope and encouragement, to hear “You are loved” not “You’re going to die!” Where’s the hope in that?
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
And yet, some of you have heard me say this is my favorite church service of the year. It’s not because I’m excited about death; it’s because tonight is a time to be honest. Being a Christian means admitting the truth: You and I cannot defeat death. Ash Wednesday is a service of repentance, a time to be honest about our sins, honest about where we’ve failed and fallen short.
Tonight is about admitting what we know is true: We need God’s help. This service is about hope, but hope in God, rather than ourselves. The entire season of Lent is about admitting we don’t have it all figured out, and turning to God for salvation, letting go of our own false sense of control and instead, allowing God to give us life.
The Lenten journey is about humility, admitting we’re not good enough to make it to heaven on our own, and looking forward to the cross and the empty tomb on Easter, where we see that because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, we are made enough. We are forgiven. God does what we cannot do on our own.
One of the ways we often remind ourselves of this focus in Lent is through fasting, which is the part of Lent our culture notices.
One year right before Lent, I was watching Jeopardy, and the final question was “Famous Catholics who’ve publicly answered this question include Susan Boyle (sweets) & Paul Ryan (beer).” The correct response was, of course, “What are you giving up for Lent?”
How many of you have ever given up something for Lent?
The tradition of giving up something for Lent is a version of the traditional Christian practice of Lenten fasting. Ash Wednesday is intended to mark the beginning of a forty-day period of self-reflection, prayer, and preparation in anticipation of Easter.
The symbolism of the forty days comes from the forty days of rain in Noah’s flood, the forty years of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, and the forty days Jesus spent fasting in the wilderness, the story we just heard on Sunday. Many Catholics, of course, fast from eating meat on Fridays during Lent.
And there’s nothing wrong with fasting. Throughout the Bible, fasting is often a way of showing sorrow, or repentance from sins. It’s a way to show how sincere you are, a way to demonstrate that you’re willing to put God ahead of yourself.
It’s a way to admit your life is fragile, to be honest about what’s important in life. Giving up stuff we depend on is a reminder of our dependence for God.
And don’t hear me wrong: It is good to give up something that distracts you from prayer or keeps you from focusing on God. Take this opportunity to try a new devotional practice. If you’re fasting from a meal, spend that extra time with God.
The danger of Lenten fasting, of giving up something for Lent, is that it’s really easy for it to seem kind of like a New Year’s resolution: another occasion to try making a change in your life, a time for self-improvement. Some years, I’ve tried giving up chocolate, or soda. Making a positive life change is good, but this season of Lent isn’t intended to be about weight loss, or detoxing.
I saw an article last week titled “How to Quit Just About Anything for Lent (Or Just Because).” The Today Show a week ago had a graphic about “Mark Wahlberg’s 40-day challenge” as if it were some kind of new fad idea. Talk about missing the point of Lent!
The reading we just heard from Isaiah warns about the risk of empty fasting. For the people of Israel, fasting had become merely a ritual, a way for them to feel like they were doing their spiritual duty.
Their fast had become all about themselves, about them appearing to have it all together.
God sees their fasting, and criticizes it. Through the prophet Isaiah, God tells the people that their fast is missing the point. Humbling yourself to make yourself feel better doesn’t do anyone any good. It doesn’t make God love you more, and it doesn’t help your neighbors.
Instead, the Lord says, “Is this not that fast that I choose: to let loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked to cover them?”
The fast God chooses is about serving others and looking past yourself. Fasting is a fine practice, but it’s intended to serve others.
Repentance means giving up your reliance on yourself, but it doesn’t stop there. Living life God’s way means living for others, putting others before ourselves, letting go of yourself so you can hold others. Fasting means seeking justice for others, reaching out to those who need to hear a word of hope.
When we acknowledge the reality of death, we are set free to live. We can do justice, we can love mercy, we can act in this world casting aside the hindrances of worry, the fear of what other people think; we can avoid the trap of trying to save or earn our way to eternal life when we accept our own powerlessness in the face of death. When we accept that eternity is in God’s hands, we can stop pretending we’ve got it under control, and we can live in a way that’s meaningful here and now.
Our joy and our hope in life come from God, the one whose love has been poured out for us, who has given up even his own life for us. Because God has served us, we are called to serve others, to seek justice, to love our neighbors. That’s the fast God delights in.
The question for tonight, and for all of Lent, is does our fasting matter? Does the way we live match what we claim to believe?
It’s my favorite Gandalf quote from Lord of the Rings: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” Will our limited time in this world make a difference?
Lent begins with ashes and repentance, and that’s important, even profound. But as you receive the ashes on your forehead tonight, notice their shape. The ashes go on in the shape of a cross, tracing the symbol marked on your head at baptism. Yes, you will die.
But because of the cross, because you have been claimed by God and sealed with the Holy Spirit, there is hope even beyond death. Honestly acknowledging death frees us to live according the purpose given us by the God who has claimed us. God gives significance to your life.
Throughout Lent this year, we’re going to be focusing on returning to God, admitting our need for God, and fasting, but fasting in a way that matters. Not merely giving up something for Lent, but engaging in the fast God calls us to, an active fast serving the world God loves.
As you engage this year in a fast that matters, may you find hope for this life and for eternity in God’s promises. May you find freedom in humble repentance. Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
I invite Pastor Vince to lead us in confession.