Sermon. Ash Wednesday. Rejoice!

Sermon. 10 February 2016. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford

Ash Wednesday

I used up my Ash Wednesday joke on you last year. But as it is a true story, I am going to risk repeating it. Do you remember? How the priest, when it came to the ashing, got somewhat confused and said to the first candidate: 'Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return; turn away from Christ and be faithful to sin'. But! Not only did he say those unfortunate words to the first person, he said the same to everybody there. So by the end, everybody in church – apart from the nonplussed priest – was doubled-up and pretty close to hysterics.

I said last year what I say now: that priest's embarrassment aside, it is a good thing to enter Lent feeling mirth. Lent is a 'solemn' season in the rather technical sense. But that doesn't mean – at all – that we are called to feel glum, or lower our self-esteem. On the contrary, we are called to know strength and hope, to be self-reflective, yes, but also, even now, oriented towards joy. This for (at least) three reasons.

First, the words 'Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return' do not mean: 'You're so rotten you deserve to die'. No. Rather, they mean: 'Remember that you are mortal, that your life is limited, is bounded'. You are unique and unrepeatable, and here only for a span of time. So you are precious. No one in the universe is more precious than you. (Others are as precious as you, including those people you can't stand. But that takes nothing away from the fact that no one is more precious than you.) No one else can live your life. So make the most of it. And we make the most of our lives not by desperately chasing after pleasure. (Think about those people who have tried it; it just doesn't work.) Rather we make the most of our lives by finding our calling (inasmuch as we can) and committing to it (as best we can). So – what are we waiting for?

Second, the words (let's see if I can get it right...) 'Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ' remind us that Christ is already here, waiting for us. We do not have to become good to earn his attention, good will or rewards. Rather, all we have to do is turn. And turn we can, however clumsily. So we already have everything we need to become holy, if we but trust in this. You see how this is not about lowering self-esteem. True self-esteem (not pride) can only be enhanced once we realise Gd is offering us holiness. Just turn.

Third, these things are true because Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death

by death and offering forgiveness and feasting, as we see from the New Testament resurrection accounts. So every day – including even Ash Wednesday and Good Friday – is also Easter. There is no moment that is not also Easter. The saint who saw this most clearly – and I've mentioned him a number of times, so you may well remember – was the Russian St Seraphim of Sarov, who, against the church fasting rules, would stand on the steps of the church on Good Friday, munching his sausages and greeting everyone with 'Christ is risen!'

Let me add another positive note that I haven't mentioned before. People sometimes think that the Roman Catholic Church is a great monolith, with everything determined by the Vatican and no variations. That's not true. For example, the French Catholic church uses different words at the Imposition of the Ashes: 'Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return; rejoice and believe in the Gospel'. I am saying there is something profound here. Lent is not about exuberance and feasting, true, but it is about a different, quieter way of rejoicing.

And just one more variation on this theme. The psalms. Yes, I am unashamedly reminding us of the Lent course this year, on the Psalms, and encouraging us to attend, even intermittently, if we can. The word 'Psalms' comes from the Greek 'psalmoi' which just means 'songs/music'. But the Hebrew is different. It's Tehillim, which means praises.

Now, people who don't read the psalms often think they are, you know, simply nice. You know: 'The flowers are lovely; Gd is all-powerful; all is well. Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.' But if we do read the psalms, we know it's not like that. Rather, all human life is there. Including anger, rage, violence, depression, bewilderment, grief, despondency and despair. These things are not hidden from Gd. As if we could hide these things from Gd. And if we cannot hide them from Gd, why hide them from each other?

And yet! And yet the Hebrew insists that it is all praise. How? There are two ideas. One is that we work our way through these negative emotions to get to praise at the end. Certainly the Book of Psalms ends with a string of psalms of praises, full of the 'A' word we are not allowed to use in Lent. The other idea is that even in the anger, rage, violence, depression, bewilderment, grief, despondency and despair, we are still praising Gd, precisely because we are directly it all towards Gd, confident that he will hold it all, transfigure it all. We don't have to choose between these different ideas; it can be both.

Let us then make these words our own:

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return;

rejoice

and believe in the gospel.

Amen.