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Psalm 103
Joel 2:1-2,12-17
2 Corinthians 5:20b--6:10
Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 |
(Mt 6:1-6, 16-21 NJB) |
Meditation for Ash Wednesday
We must put away the Alleluia. We are not going to cease praising the Name of our Lord God and Saviour, but Alleluia is special. It is our Paschal victory cry and so, for a time we say goodbye, hoping and trusting that when it returns, our hearts and minds will be free to joyfully and unfeignedly mark its restoration to our midst. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. By putting it away now, we shall not take it for granted and will relish its return all the more. Next, we must burn the palms from our celebration of Palm Sunday last year. Why? We need the ashes to remind us that there is nothing created, most especially ourselves, that has life of its own. Life is a fleeting, but most precious, gift from God, the Creator and sustainer of all things. But why the palms? The answer I fear is all too simple. The palms were used to hail Jesus as the King of Glory in our ceremonial recollection of the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. Yet over the course of the past year, our sinfulness has revealed that far more often we choose to enthrone the world, the flesh or the devil in Christ’s rightful seat, at the center of our lives. And so we burn the palms and wear these particular ashes in recognition of and repentance for all those times when we have not acclaimed Jesus as Lord and have allowed whatever usurper we have momentarily been distracted by to take His place in our hearts and minds. And finally, we mark ourselves with the sign of the cross. This is the great paradox of our redemption. We celebrate and cherish a symbol of evil and torture. We are healed by His stripes. We discover that the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows, is actually the way of reconciliation. We give up our lives along with Jesus and we are born again and freely presented with life eternal. It is not however, that the pain, the injuries, the torture and death are illusory. No, they are all too real. But they have been redeemed and transformed. As a freshman at Concordia College, in Moorhead, Minnesota, I had the pleasure of studying under Dr. Marcus Borg, a first rate theologian, though he was not particularly orthodox. When I was there, at Concordia, I never expected that some day I would quote Dr. Borg in a homily or such, but a few years ago, he published a book called “Taking Jesus Seriously”. I wouldn’t say that he’s become the epitome of orthodoxy, but he does have some words from that book, for us today: “Lent is about mortality and transformation. We begin the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday with the sign of the cross smeared on our foreheads with ashes as the words are spoken over us, "Dust thou art, and to dust thou wilt return." We begin this season of Lent not only reminded of our death, but also marked for death. The Lenten journey, with its climax in Holy Week and Good Friday and Easter, is about participating in the death and resurrection of Jesus. Put somewhat abstractly, this means dying to an old identity—the identity conferred by culture, by tradition, by parents, perhaps—and being born into a new identity—an identity centered in the Spirit of God. It means dying to an old way of being, and being born into a new way of being, a way of being centered once again in God… That's the first focal point of a life that takes Jesus seriously: that radical centering in the Spirit of God that is at the very center of the Christian life.” Lent is upon us once again, my brothers and sisters. It is
time to again to renounce ourselves and begin anew to take Jesus seriously.
We, along with Christ, are now set to begin our journey to Jerusalem. We
know what awaits us there, but still we must go. As the old song says there
is, “No turning back ---no turning back.”
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