24 February 2012

On Ash Wednesday

    Today, with the beginning of Lent, comes the ashes. This soot applied to the foreheads on the first day of the purple season−Ash Wednesday−can be a rich symbol. It is a gift of the Middle Ages, when Christians sorry for their sins came to the church as Lent began, barefoot and clad in rough cloth. After the prayers, ashes made from palms (whose leaves have been saved for almost a year from the previous Palm Sunday) were tossed into the air or sprinkled on the head.  

        The Ashes mark our sin. They remind us that because we sin, we die, and dying we return to dust, to ashes, with the ashes we confess what we already know about ourselves, wearing our sins upon our brow.

        The ashes went wrong when they were linked to penance-something we must do that makes us suffer, as if our suffering, could earn us some forgiveness. Nothing could be further from the truth! It is His suffering on the cross of Calvary that saves, and His alone. If the ashes infringe upon the work of the Lord Jesus Christ, then they must be put away. And so they were, falling out of use in many Lutheran Churches.

        And yet there was a time, you may recall, when ashes were a substitute for soap, something for cleansing and renewal. Now that gets closer to the truth. We are Christians, and for us the last word is never sin, to death, or ash. The last word-the endpoint, the fulfillment of the Law (Romans 10:4), God’s yes! (2 Corinthians 1:20), God or us (Romans 5:8), the fullness of the Gospel−is Jesus Christ.

        And so if you come near the altar this Ash Wednesday, the ashes will be traced upon your skin where Name and water once graced you at baptism. They will be given to you in the sign of the cross, reminding you that you belong to Christ, that he alone forgives you, and that there is no penance you can do to save yourself, in part or full. Free of charge, it is He who cleanses and renews you, He who saves you as a gift (Ephesians 2:1-10).

        The ashes mark your salvation. They remind us because of Christ, we live, and living to return to life, to discipleship. With ashes we confess what we already know about ourselves, wearing our salvation on our brow.

        The gift of ashes is a symbol, rich and deep, but nothing more. If you think it will help your piety, your discipline, your rejoicing, your faith, then come to the front for ashes on this first Wednesday of the purple season. And if you do not, or if you would simply like to pass it by this year, please do! Faith finds an aid−but not its ground−in this ancient custom. The only ground of faith and life is Christ.

        Always remember with the ashes or without, you are free, as you are Christ’s.

Happy Lent!

Scott Bruzek

21 February 2012

On the Eucharist

The word "Eucharist" means literally "thanksgiving."  A Eucharistic life is one lived in gratitude.  The story, which is also our story, of the two friends walking to Emmaus has shown that gratitude is not an obvious attitude toward life.  Gratitude needs to be discovered and to be lived with great inner attentiveness.  Our losses, our experiences of rejection and abandonment, and our many moments of disillusionment keep pulling us into anger, bitterness, and resentment.  When we simply let the "facts" speak, there will always be enough facts to convince us that life, in the end, leads to nothing and that every attempt to beat that fate is only a sign of profound naiveté.

Jesus gave us the Eucharist to enable us to choose gratitude.  It is a choice we, ourselves, have to make.  Nobody can make it for us. But the Eucharist prompts us to cry out to God for mercy, to listen to the words of Jesus, to invite him into our home, to enter into communion with him and proclaim good news to the world; it opens the possibility of gradually letting go of our many resentments and choosing to be grateful.  The Eucharistic celebration keeps inviting us to that attitude.  In our daily lives we have countless opportunities to be grateful instead of resentful.  At first, we might not recognize these opportunities.  Before we fully realized, we have already said: "This is too much for me.  I have no choice but to be angry and to let my anger show.  Life isn't fair, and I can't act as if it is,"  However, there is always the voice that, ever and again, suggests that we are blinded by our own understanding and pull ourselves and each other into a hole.  It is the voice that calls us "foolish," the voice that asks us to have a completely new look at our lives, a look not from below, where we count our losses, but from above, where God offers us his glory.

Eucharist-thanksgiving-in the end, comes from above.  It is the gift that we cannot fabricate for ourselves.  It is to be received.  It is freely offered and asks to be freely received.  That is where the choice is!  We can choose to let the stranger continue his journey and so remain a stranger.  But we can also invite him into our inner lives, let him touch every part of our being and then transform our resentments into gratitude.  We don't have to do this.  In fact, most people don't.  But as often as we make that choice, everything, even the most trivial things, become new.  Our little lives become great - part of the mysterious work of God's salvation.  Once that happens, nothing is accidental, casual, or futile any more.  Even the most insignificant event speaks the language of faith, hope, and, above all, love.

That's the Eucharistic life, the life in which everything becomes a way of saying "Thank you" to him who joined us on the road.

Henri J. M. Nouwen, With Burning Hearts, pp. 124-126