Ash Wednesday Ecumenical Service, March 6, 2019
Rooke Chapel, Bucknell University. Kurt Nelson
It’s quite rare,
in a position such as mine,
to speak from a place of certainty.
No doubt you can call to mind,
those unfortunate few religious leaders,
who speak nothing but certainty,
even when it’s clear to the rest of us,
that they’ve little wisdom to impart.
But in actuality, mine is a profession of humility,
of mystery,
and of wondering.
Rife with big questions,
with few easy answers.
But, new as I am to this community,
I’ve come to two conclusions for today,
about which I’m fairly confident.
The first, is that we are a people in need.
And second,
that what we need is almost certainly not,
more stuff.
We are tired and weary. (and, I might add, cold)
And we spend tremendous stores of energy trying to convince others,
that we’re fine.
Even when we’re not.
And we have loads of stuff.
Material stuff, to be sure.
But more importantly, around here,
we have lots of stuff to do.
We fill our lives with stuff.
Convinced, that it is what defines us,
and makes us valuable.
We are marked by what we have,
and even more, by what we can accomplish.
And so, let us admit, to ourselves,
God, and one another.
That we are in trouble.
And let us humbly suggest to ourselves,
that stuff cannot save us.
No matter how much of it we have and do.
Indeed, stuff might be the problem.
But that’s a story for another day.
And so, we come to Lent.
Wherein we, for 40 days leading up to Easter,
remember Jesus’ fasting in the dessert.
And the wandering of the Israelites in the wilderness.
And the rain pouring down on Noah.
A profoundly counter-cultural season,
where we admit that we are weak.
Indeed, we mark ourselves publicly with weakness.
And we try to cut through all the stuff.
Admitting we have a stuff problem.
And, hopefully, taking some time,
to ponder what really matters,
what we really need,
in our soul-deep selves.
And maybe what we need,
Renewal
Repentance
and Community.
This is the good stuff of this season.
Many of us will take on a discipline,
for Lent.
Giving up chocolate or meat.
Or adding prayer or charitable work.
And those are indeed good things to do.
But if you’re pondering a change in habit this Lent,
as you ponder all the stuff that gets in the way,
I might make a couple of humble suggestions:
Maybe a good Lenten discipline,
would be to take a nice nap.
Or sleep for 8 hours at night.
Maybe your Lenten discipline could be rest.
Or maybe it’s about shutting off our phones and screens and televisions,
for just a little while each evening.
Maybe it’s about renewing a friendship.
Or reminding ourselves,
why we’ve invested in certain communities,
or certain people.
Maybe it’s a simple reminder,
that it’s not all about us.
And perhaps we’ll come to the conclusion that Isaiah did,
millennia ago during his time of fasting:
“Is not this the fast that I choose:
to 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…”
And so today,
we mark ourselves,
not with stuff.
Not with accomplishment or success or achievement.
But with dust and ashes.
We remind ourselves that we are small and finite.
We remind ourselves that we have indeed fallen short.
And we remind ourselves,
the good news,
that we are a part of God’s still unfolding story.
Today and everyday.
So let us pause,
and reflect,
on the simple idea,
that we are finite.
Mortal.
We are dust.
And yet, we are loved,
and called forth into a great story,
not of stuff,
but of hope, and justice, and love.
Amen.