Ash Wednesday February 17, 2010

Ash Wednesday
February 17, 2010

Why are we gathered here today/tonight?
Why the public breast-beating of the confession we’re about to say, naming the seediest of our sins?
Why are we about to allow ourselves to be publicly marked with ashes on our foreheads?

In my spare minutes this week I’ve been watching the Olympics.
You know how the commentators fill in the action with human interest bios on the athletes. I’ve been particularly struck this year by how many of the athletes have come back from serious, serious wounds: the skater whose skate blade cut his other leg to the bone. The skier who raced the men’s downhill a couple of days ago with a cast on the thumb he broke two weeks ago. The woman snowboarder who had been carried off a mountain unconscious at the last Olympics, but who came back to a spectacular win yesterday.
In all the interviews with those athletes, they said much the same thing: “I thought it was all over, but then I decided to do what I needed to do to heal and get back on the mountain or the ice dancing floor.”

We’re here today/tonight because each one of us carries wounds—physical wounds of illness, or—often even more painful—the wounds that others have inflicted on us and the wounds that our sins have made in our lives.
We’re here today/tonight because some part of our minds and hearts long to believe the words we just said in Psalm 103:
God forgives all our sins,
and heals all our infirmities,
There’s only one way that we can get this forgiveness and healing—to bend before the infinite mercy of God.

Practically speaking, how do we do this?
First, trust enough to name before God where we are most wounded. God won’t be shocked. God has heard it all before. But what both you and God need is for you to be honest. Maybe it’s a sin done long ago that still eats away at your peace and confidence. Maybe it’s a person you can’t seem to forgive, no matter how hard you try. Maybe it’s a habit of reacting angrily to other people, or an addiction to alcohol, or food, or drugs.
Don’t bring God a laundry list of things you want to change. Just focus on one. Then actually say to God something like, “Dear God, this Lent help to change just this one thing in my life.”
Next, pray about it, in the morning when you get up and just before bed. Give it to God. None of the wounded athletes I’ve heard this week said, “I just decided to heal it myself.” No, they found the best physician—and the best physician of all is the God who loves us.
In a few minutes we’ll read Psalm 51. It begins with a perfect prayer to God for healing:
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness;
in your great compassion blot out my offences.
Or, in a version I prefer,
In your great tenderness wipe away my sins.

When I hear these words, I always envision a mother wiping the dirt off the skinned knee of her child.

As you are praying during these forty days, giving yourself into the healing hands of God, you also need to do some rehab!
It won’t be easy—those of you who have been through rehab know how painful it can be. But we can’t heal without it.
Rehab means practice, stretching weak muscles, relearning how to do things.
If you’re working on forgiving someone, your rehab program may be simply once a day holding that person up to God’s mercy and grace. Or you may feel God nudging you to reach out toward that person (that is not always the best thing to do).
If you’ve named a habit of anger, say, or envy—try to become aware of just when and how your buttons get pushed. See if you can get a little grace time before you react—perhaps just take a breath before you say those angry words or push send for an e-mail.
If you suspect you’re addicted to something, reach out to someone who knows about these things—they can help you and it is immensely powerful, as AA has proved, to name your addiction to another person.

Why are we here today/tonight?
Like wounded athletes, we all need healing. Otherwise, how can we ever tackle the fogged-over mountain trails and bumpy ice that inevitable comes up in our lives:
We may all give different reasons for being here, but ultimately we came here for one reason alone. In order that, as Jesus says in the Gospel of John: “we might have life, and have it more abundantly.”