10 Feb 2016
Ash Wednesday
In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth,
the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a
mighty wind swept over the waters. The
God said, “Let there be light;” and there was light. And he called the light “day,” and the
darkness “night.”
And God created the skies above, and the depths of the oceans
below. And there in the sky were the two
great lights: the sun to rule in the day, and the moon in the night. And below was the fertile ground called
“earth.” And God brought forth every
kind of vegetation from the earth: fruit trees and budding things in abundance.
And the waters of the sea churned with countless numbers of
living creatures; and birds swooped and flew in the skies. From the earth, God brought more creatures:
cattle, creeping things, and animals of all kinds. And God looked at all he had made and saw
that is was good. But then on the sixth
day, God said: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” And so, God formed man out of the clay of the
earth, and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a
living being.
But God didn’t wish man to be alone, so he put him into a
sleep. And from the man’s side he
created woman. God looked upon his
entire creation, then, and saw that it was “very good.” On the seventh day, God, man and woman, and
all creation rested in peace and joy.
Humanity and God were naked before each other, and there was no shame.
At the start of Lent, it’s good to remember where we came
from . . . and where we’re going. It
helps us to understand why we put
ashes on our forehead, and why we
spend more time in prayer, and fasting, and almsgiving, and why we do
penance. We came from God, and were born
into . . . paradise. And God laid before
us a beautiful vision; a vision of eternal friendship with him and all those
who are good, true, and beautiful.
We started out on the right foot. And we have God to thank for that. But then, somewhere along the way, we took a
wrong turn—many wrong turns in
life. And now, who knows where we’re going in life—except back to
the earth from where we came: “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to
dust.” But, you know, even though we’re
all sinners, and we’ve each damaged our relationships with God and each other .
. . even though we have done that
(and still do that), God remains merciful and faithful.
God hasn’t given up on us.
He’s destined us for greatness! He’s
made us to be good, and true, and beautiful—even to the point of sharing his
divine nature in heaven. And that’s why
he sent his Son to us—to “save” us, to bring us back to his bosom—to be totally
honest with him and each other . . . without
shame.
And so, Lent is both a hopeful time and a time of
sorrow. Of course, God’s mercy is what
gives us hope; our sins and failings do not
have the final word—God’s mercy does.
And so, Lent is a time of hope.
But it’s also a time of sorrow and tears and frustration because we know we can be so much more; we know can be so much better. God doesn’t lay a guilt trip on us to make us
feel bad. Instead, he pokes at our
conscience and says: “You know you
want to be a better person; after all, you’re the spittin’ image of . . . me.
You know you want to make some
changes in life . . . so make them,
and set things right again.”
At the last prayer we have for Mass today, we’re going to ask
God to give us a “spirit of compunction.”
And that’s what “compunction” is: it’s God poking at our conscience, and
giving us a feeling of real sorrow and regret for our sins—for our choices and
habits that have steered us away from
God and our destiny. There’s no guilt
involved in that “spirit of compunction;” just the sad (or tearful) realization
that we can be so much more, so much better as sons and daughters of God. We’ve let God down. We’ve let others down . . . and ourselves.
And, you know, Lent would be pretty dreary if there weren’t
any hope. But there is hope. God doesn’t shame
us into oblivion; instead, he offers us forgiveness, mercy, and love. That’s the kind of God we have. He says to us: “Go and set things
right.” And we understand that. You know, if we hurt somebody, what do we
say? We say: “I’m so sorry. Please, let me make it up to you; I’m sorry,
let me set things right.”
And that’s why we pray, and fast, and give alms. That’s why we do penance and ask God and
others for forgiveness. They’re all ways
we can “set things right again.” But the
Lord asks us to “set things right again” in a particular way.
We first hear about it in the Prophet Joel when he says:
“Rend your hearts, not your garments.”
In other words, pour out—gush out—all
the messy intimacy of your soul and mind to God; rip open your heart to him, as
he has ripped open his heart and body for you.
Share with God what’s on your
mind and in your heart. Do it in
prayer. Write to God in journal or a
diary. Tell God in the Sacrament of
Reconciliation. “Rend your hearts,” the
Prophet says, to “set things right.”
But then Jesus clarifies it even more when he talks about
prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. “When
you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in
secret.” “When you give alms, don’t make
a big show of it.” “When you fast,
anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting,
except to your Father who is hidden.”
Setting things right—making up for our sins, and showing to God we’re
trying to get back on the right track is largely . . . a personal thing. It happens in the intimacy of our
relationships with God and with each other.
Now, in a little bit we’re going to have ashes put on our
forehead. And perhaps the most important
thing you can do with those ashes is to look in the mirror and say to yourself
and God: “I’m a sinner. But I can be
better with your help, God. And so, help
me.” And then wash the ashes off, so as
to not make a public show of it all, and then get to the work of “setting
things right” with God and each other.
The spirit of Lent is summed up by the Prophet Joel: “Return
to the Lord, your God.” But it’s a call
that began way back at the start of creation.
And it’s a call we hear from ahead us, too; from God on the other side
of heaven: “Return to me, my beloved children,” he says. “Return to me.” And, in that, he’s saying not only “Return to
him,” but also “return to your true self.”
God has made us in his image, and destined us for greatness; for
goodness and truth and beauty of heart.
On this Ash Wednesday, let’s ask God for that “spirit of compunction,”
and begin the work of setting things right again . . . with each other, and
with our God.
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