Welcome, dear feast of Lent
That's what beloved George Herbert wrote...
but when I was a child I hated Lent with a passion.
I hated the solemn feeling of Ash Wednesday
I hated the dark purple that surrounded me in church
I hated the absence of flowers.
And that was before anyone even hinted at giving up sweets or other delights.
Dear feast? I didn't think so.
Lent was all about death, dust and ashes and going without.
A fast, not a feast at all.
Pancake day?
That was quite different
That was a feast right enough.
Something to celebrate and always the hope that one of my father’s pancakes would go so high it stuck to the kitchen ceiling...It did at least once.
But then I grew up and began to learn the value of a new start, something that is pretty meaningless to children, for whom each moment of life is new....
I learned that having the slate wiped clean is really something to celebrate.
That as we begin to turn over a new leaf, to flip the pancake to show its best side, we really can rejoice.
Listen to Joel again. Not that bit about
The day of darkness and gloom,
a day of clouds and thick darkness!
Nor the part of about terrifying armies!
I promise, his message is not just about misery and destruction.
Listen
Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful
Return.
Come back to where you really belong…
That’s an attractive invitation, - that speaks more of joy than of dread… and indeed that joy should be the mood of the day.
You see,when we receive the ash cross on our foreheads, we do so with two thoughts.
One is, if you like, the down stroke…
…our mortality...the darker, more sombre aspect of today.
You are dust and to dust you shall return.
There’s no escaping that. It’s a reality with which we just have to make our peace sooner or later.
But set against this the other, which crosses out that declaration of annihilation... the route home for us, the way of life and light that means that none of us need fear the end
Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.
It’s as simple as that.
Change direction, away from sin and towards home.
Home to Christ, who is faithful to us.
Christ who does not condemn us, no matter what the evidence of our guilt,
Christ who shows us the overwhelming love of God who meets us, when we are still far off, and have only just begun to make our journey home.
Be faithful to Christ
In that cross of ash we receive both disease and remedy in one. Here is Death and resurrection. The whole of life’s journey and purpose collapsed into a short encounter which deals both with stark reality and transformative hope.
When I was a parish priest I often struggled with the apparently straightforward task of burning the palms to make the ash needed for today.
Often it was an irritating and messy business
Perhaps, even when dried out in the oven, they just wouldn't catch, wouldn't burn
Or they’d smoke and smoulder so determinedly that that my eyes streamed and my hair and my clothes smelled like a kipper factory.
And the task always took about twice as long as I actually had available.
But that's what getting rid of sin can be like
Challenging
Irritating
Messy
And time consuming – it always takes longer than we would hope
A fresh start isn't always easy - But there's no need to despair.
You see today we have another opportunity to look at who we are and who we want to be. To turn around and begin our journey home. To spring-clean hearts, minds and souls so that our light can break forth like the dawn
That can be difficult and painful: often it would be so much easier to rend garments than hearts. Heartbreak hurts– for it usually involves giving up things that are part of ourselves, things that we hold much closer than even the most stubborn addiction to chocolate...so it's good that we keep Lent together, as a community.
Together we can encourage and support one another – by word, by example, by prayer.
Together we can, by the grace of God, begin again to form ourselves into a community which proclaims by deeds that are louder than words our determination to live lives shaped by God’s Great Commandment of love.
Together.
You see, returning to that messy, tiresome business of burning the palms, finally the warmth of a whole tinful smouldering is enough. Finally those dried out leaves catch fire and the flames break forth and spring up and in a few moments those twisted crosses disappear and the residue.......well, that's what we use to remind us of both sides of Lent
Of our frailty and mortality......you are dust, and so am I.
And of our hope in Christ......who is faithful to us, who will lead us through our own wilderness times, through the desert of repentance, who will bring us safely home
I once knew a priest, chaplain at a college of further education, who decided to rewrite part of the liturgy for Ash Wednesday, so that rather than “you are dust and to dust you shall return” his students heard instead the loving reassurance of Jesus:
“I do not call you servants, but friends”
“God loves the world so much”
“Abide in my love”
“I am with you always, to the close of the age”
Those words, those comforts, are implicit in that brief, strangely intimate exchange as we are each marked with the cross, the enduring sign of God’s love retracing the seal of our baptism year upon year.
Ash Wednesday takes us back to that moment, and invites us to reflect on the truth of who we are, and the truth of who God is…knowing that always, ALWAYS, God’s love will win.
In the words of the hymn
“Rejoice oh dust and ashes, The Lord will be thy part
His only, his forever, thou shalt be and thou art”
