Reminders
Feb 25, 2009
Gayle McCarty
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
In a few minutes, we will hear those welcoming words, "I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a Holy Lent".
Every year, I long for Lent and eagerly await Ash Wed.
You are probably thinking - what a strange penchant for penitence
and asking - how could anyone joyfully anticipate one of the most solemn services of the church year?
Who in their right mind wants to immerse themselves in the sobering self-examination to which we are called in Lent?
Yet - I do.
For it is this time every year in which the Church calls us - individually and corporately - to accountability - true accountability - to confession and repentance.
On this day, Ash Wed, we can no longer glibly glide through the General Confession we pray in our regular services. The General Confession, to me, is just that - general. It can gloss over the particularity of our sins. It can easily be a generic confession
that does little to prompt us toward that inward journey of soul-searching and honestly naming our individual and/or corporate sins as sins. It is so general that there is a real risk of it simply being recited by rote.
As the Church, we tend to shy away from calling sin a sin. We don't want to make folks uncomfortable.
Yet many of us are sick with sin and we know it and we know God knows it for He knows our heart.
We long for wholeness.
We long for a right relationship with God.
Yes - I eagerly await Ash Wed. - to hear the words of the Litany that drives us into our personal wilderness just as the Holy Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness after His baptism.
It drives us along that often painful, but ultimately freeing inward journey. A journey in which we hold up a mirror and truly see our sins - peering into our own eyes whose gaze we cannot avert -eyes locking and that knowing look exchanged - knowledge of the truth of our soul which we cannot deny.
But, the precursor is the holy imposition of ashes -a mark of our mortal nature.
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Words reminding us of our mortality.
However, many of you may be like me. Quite frankly, we are acutely aware of our mortality for we have recently experienced the deaths of loved ones - pets, family, friends and colleagues.
On my bookshelf, are the ashes of my beloved Sadie, my dog back home, who died my second week of seminary. While I cherish those sacred white ashes in the urn displaying her photo, I need no reminder of the hole in my heart created by her absence.
In my prayer book, I keep the obituary of my favorite uncle, Uncle Cecil, who died my Junior year and at whose funeral I preached my first homily.
And, while I occasionally hold the yellowing newspaper clipping with the photo of his smiling face, I really need no reminder for I have a memory bank full of almost 50 years of love shared.
Every now and then, I wear a watch - a gift from Mrs. Kelly - a dear friend who died at the age of 104 in my Middler year. While I treasure her watch, I need no reminder for all I have to do is to close my eyes and see her mischievous smile and hear her witticisms and remarkable stories.
This past June, my father died from brain and lung cancer. Reminders of him are everywhere -
from the photo situated just so as if he were looking over me,
to the books he bought and inscribed with notes of encouragement (for me to read in my leisure time),
or whenever I hear a really bad joke or a good joke told really badly
or the bittersweet memory of another forehead and another cross -
this one made in oil - just before his death.
No - I need no reminder of my mortality, thank you. I have plenty.
Still, I will join you and come forward for the imposition of ashes.
And, the one imposing the ashes and I will enter into an immediate intimacy.
I will feel the gentle caress as my hair is brushed aside
and my forehead made bare. I will feel that initial touch of another's flesh upon my flesh.
With closed eyes, I will not only feel the sign of the cross made upon my forehead, I will simultaneously see it in my mind's eye.
I will feel and see the fine, delicate, black powder of ashes which in all appearances seems cold and lifeless,
but are, for me, hot to the touch and full of life of those who have died.
Look closely at the messy, blackened, misshapen cross that I will soon bear.
Look closely and you will see the faces of Sadie, Uncle Cecil, Mrs. Kelly and my father and I will feel their warmth beyond the grave.
The finger that traces the cross upon our foreheads will somehow mysteriously and mystically be none other than the very finger of God. The same finger from the same hands that created you and me and gave us life.
No - I need no reminder of my mortality.
Instead, I need to be reminded to heed the words of the prophet, Isaiah, and to "lift up my voice like a trumpet"!
To speak out against injustices be they large or small.
To question -
why are there dioceses that still refuse to ordain women to the priesthood?
To ask -
why do some churches proclaim to be houses of prayer for all people - yet, close their doors to the homeless or those living on the streets?
To implore - why we do have building campaigns to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars,
yet, sponsor other campaigns such as Pennies for Hunger.
Yes, day by day by day, we must "lift up our voices like a trumpet" by refusing to laugh at racist jokes and denouncing derogatory name-calling.
We are called to combat common, everyday complacency, as well as, ingrained institutionalized injustices.
Thanks be to God for the words of the Psalmist - "The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness".
I find extraordinary solace in these words for I can only imagine
how very deeply and how very often we must aggrieve God.
Yes, I need to be reminded to heed the words of the living modern-day prophet, The Right Rev. Barbara C. Harris, the first woman bishop and first Black woman bishop in the worldwide Anglican Communion.
Bishop Harris warns us that, "The temptation we all face is to play it safe; don't take risks; don't make waves."
She has further said, "I perhaps could say things differently, but they still have to be said."
I need to be reminded to heed the wisdom of the late Maggie Kuhn, founder of the Gray Panthers and activist for the aged, who said, "Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes."
I need to "lift up my voice like a trumpet" like courageous, spirit-led, gospel-guided, Baptismal-covenant believing prophets
such as the late Rev. Sue Hiatt and the Rt. Rev. John E. Hines.
Now that is what I need to be reminded of -
to risk - to jump in the deep end - being unafraid to make waves if necessary - to lift up my voice like a trumpet -even if it shakes.
And, in doing so, I follow not the example of Bishop Hines or Harris or any other mortal, but I follow the example of Jesus the Christ himself.
I need to be reminded of the need for the death of my sins - those sins committed via my words or silence - my actions or inaction.
With each and every line of the Litany, I am powerfully reminded of those parts of me which sorely need to die:
pride - exploitation of others - anger and envy - negligence in prayer - blindness to human need and suffering - indifference to injustice and cruelty - false judgments and waste of creation.
That is what I need to be reminded of.
And, with each specific word in each successive line, I see my soul in that mirror - and, I am indicted.
With each refrain of the response, "We confess to you, Lord", there will be a growing taste of ashes in my mouth to match the ashes that will adorn my forehead.
This reminder - I need.
If we let them, the ashes on our foreheads will remain for awhile
and the taste of ashes in our mouths will linger as well. Let us not be in a hurry to cleanse ourselves of these ashes.
Feel them - and taste them.
And, Remember -
that you are dust and to dust you shall return.
